Skip to main content

Collective nouns, clever monkeys and other irritating creatures

If there isn't already a collective noun for emoticons then I would like to propose one. Or since I am discussing emoticons why settle on just one - they seldom appear in the singular, so a crop of suggestions would seem vastly, indisputably, unarguably, undeniably, absolutely, unassailably, enormously, incredibly more appropriate (see what I did there ... excessive and ultimately pointless over-use of adverbs where a smiley face, a thumbs-up, a lightbulb and a clever-looking monkey could have created an identical emoticon-fueled mind-numbing effect). So here is my list -



  • blizzard of emoticons which, of course, is ironic as emoticons arrive suddenly en masse creating anything other than a white out. In fact, they are as much a blizzard as the dancing, singing participants in a flash-mob are a blizzard. Or as the friends who leap out from behind the furniture at a surprise party are a blizzard. Or as the wasps who sense there is a sticky platter of barbecued chicken in the garden are a blizzard. So, perhaps, not a blizzard then. Not a blizzard at all.

  • barricade of emoticons making it impossible to pass linguistically from intended message to comprehension due to the wall created when your brain switches off as your eyes become bogged down trying to decipher the partially blocked message bludgeoned beneath the barrier of emoticons.

  • glut of emoticons which reflects their excessive, unwanted, intrusive, unintelligible and entirely overly abundant supply. Too many adverbs again? An adverb glut perhaps.

  • tureen of emoticons, evoking emoticon soup, which is what my brain turns into when faced with crammed lines of silly icons, which are meant to be telling me a story but are instead giving me eye strain as a struggle to determine if that is tears or sweat or a face drenched in rain. Or whether the cat is smiling or grimacing or might it be a frown. And if the angry man is being angry ironically. Or not.

  •  an asylum of emoticons, which is my favourite and where I think they belong. Asylum or zoo?  Or is that too harsh. Am I turning into the curmudgeon that I dread becoming - the cliche of an intolerant older person? An older person somewhat overwhelmed by technology. And irritated that every time I imagine I've caught up, it - the technology - races off into the ether again. And again, I give chase, but each time the race restarts, my pursuit is slower than the time before. Which is why we have children - to fix things when we accidentally delete something, to show us how to cloud share, and to say "silly you" when we say we've forgotten how to do something so basic that we spend half an hour making it sound far more complicated than it is, before finally admitting to ourselves that it was indeed something that we once knew how to do  but that, what with all this trying to keep up, we have now forgotten, and could they just do it for us. And maybe remind us how to organise our files while they're at it.
:-)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Colour, Delacroix, flochetage and why don't we all have a go at inventing words

Yes - it is a real word. Flochetage. Well, a real-ish word. One invented by the painter Delacroix, when he found the dictionary cupboard bare and required a word to describe his technique of layering different coloured paints, using lightly pulled brush strokes to create texture and pattern and thereby enhance his base-layer colours (... lost? - stick around, read on and all will become clear. Or perhaps muddier ...). Flochetage implies both stringiness and threadiness. Apparently. And it sounds good - in a filling-the-mouth-with-sound sort of a way. Try it ... flochetaaaage. Not that I speak French. So I am probably mis-pronouncing it. Nor am I an artist. So what do I know about painting techniques - except that I think this one works. What I do like is the concept - you invent a new technique in whatever it is you do, hunt around for the vocabulary to describe it, find the dictionary is lacking, so make up a word of your own and announce to the world what it means. Delacroix isn&#

My beloved boy, how lucky I have been

It's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die ... and I say someone here even though the one in question was a dog - but to us he had character and a place forever in our hearts and was more of a familiar someone than some of the people in our lives. So, I'll start again - it's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die, our senses go into overdrive. We notice things that normally would be part of the background of our every day. We breathe more - or rather, we don't but what we do is notice our breathing more, as we watch his. We pause. We think. We listen to ourselves and our inner voices speak. Memories flood our dreams ... though sleep is fitful.  Why am I telling you this? ... ... we lost this beautiful boy today And in the hours before he went, I saw perfect spheres of dew on blades of grass - little orbs holding micro-images of our world; a bumble bee drunk on nectar, yellow-dusted with pollen, resting in a crocus; ten - yes, ten!

Curlews, summer skies and walking in circles.

Summer skies over the Yorkshire Dales and my mind is set to rest mode. But that rest is not totally restful; there is a niggle ... a memory, a hint of childhood, something that unsettles slightly - a light brush stroke of discomfort; a gossamer breath of discombobulation and a 'Woah! Wait a moment!' moment of 'that's-not-right!' - we're about as far from the sea as it is possible to be in middle Britain and yet, I can hear the distinctive Peep! Peep! of oystercatchers and the piercing cry of curlew. Here -  in the blue skies of the North Yorkshire dales and along the footpaths - and above the endless miles of drystone walls are birds that should be at the coast.  Oystercatchers, with their distinctive red pliers attached to their heads feed on - you've guessed it - oyster beds. All along the coastline of the British Isles, their distinctive cry is the call of summer. Drowned out somewhat by the banter of seagulls but sharp and