The Twelve Essays of Christmas: TFH

What's an abbreviation? It's the short version of a word or phrase.

It's the initial letters of a phrase, like 'AC/DC' (Alternating Current / Direct Current), or 'AKA' (Also Known As). Or nearly initial letters, as in 'XHTML' (Extended Hyper-Text Markup Language).

Except sometimes it's the initial few letters, as in 'PhD' (Doctor of Philosophy). And the letters don't even have to be next to each other, as in 'AWoL' (Absent Without Leave).

And except where it's the initial few letters of a single word, as in 'temp' for 'temporary' or 'temperature', or 'app' for 'application'.

Sometimes it can be pronounced as a word, as in laser (Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation) or snafu (Situation Normal - All Fucked Up), in which case we call it an acronym.

And it can be an english acronym even if the original words aren't in english. Gestapo is Geheime Staat Polizei - Homeland State Police). The cable that's probably connected to your digital TV receiver box is a scart (or SCART) cable, and that's a french acronym (Syndicat des Constructeurs d'Appareils Radiorécepteurs et Téléviseurs). I've worked in video, and with experts in video, and most them had no idea what the letters stood for, or indeed that it wasn't for something in english. Nor did they need to know it to use the hardware.

'Mr' is the abbreviation of 'Mister'. But 'Ms' is the abbreviation of...erm, actually 'Ms' is an abbeviation without a full version. Which is a bit odd. Maybe the theoretical full version would be 'Mizzis'? And aren't these actually contractions and not abbreviations at all?

So what's the difference between an abbreviation and a contraction?

According to the experts at the Oxford English Dictionary (abbreviation: OED), a contraction is a word like 'Can't' or 'Shouldn't', created by dropping sounds or letters from a phrase, and indicating the omission by putting an apostrophe where they used to be.

Abbreviations OTOH (On The Other Hand) are single words created by mashing together multiple words, or short words created by chopping the beginnings and/or endings off longer words.

So...erm, what's the difference between an abbreviation and a contraction? They even list 're and 've (as in 'We're' and 'We've') as abbreviations, when I'd list them as bound-morphemes derived from auxiliary verbs. Or...possibly something else.

But I can definitely tell you that abbreviations are nouns or adjectives - except when they're not. And contractions are not nouns or adjectives - except when they are.

If you've got a better definition, please let me know. In the meantime, here are the 1959 words listed as Abbreviation in the COED. Which isn't listed as an abbreviation in the COED.

'm	're	've	4to	4WD
8vo	a.e.t.	a.m.	a/c	A/D
ABC	ABH	ABM	Abp	ABS
ABTA	ABV	AC	ACAS	ACL
ACLU	ACT	ACTH	ACW	AD
ADC	ADF	ADH	ADHD	Adj.
Adjt	Adm.	ADN	ADP	ADSL
ADT	advt	AEA	AEEU	aet.
AF	AFC	AFL	AFL-CIO	AFM
Ag	AGC	AGM	AGR	AH
AHA	AI	AID	AIH	AIM
AK	aka	AL	Ala.	Alas.
ALP	Alta	ALU	AM	Amex
AMRAAM	amu	ANC	AND	anon.
ANS	ANSI	AOB	AOC	APB
APC	APEC	API	Apoc.	Apocr.
app.	approx.	APR	Apr.	AR
ARA	ARC	arcos	arcsin	arctan
Ariz.	Ark.	ARP	arr.	AS
ASA	asap	ASCII	ASEAN	ASH
ASI	ASIC	ASL	ASLEF	ASM
ASP	Assoc.	ASSR	Asst	AST
ASV	ATB	ATC	ATF	ATM
ATOL	ATP	Atty	ATV	AU
AUC	Aug.	AUS	AUT	AV
Ave.	AWACS	AWS	AZ	AZT
b	b.f.	b.h.p.	b/w	B2
B2B	B2C	BA	BAe	BAFTA
BAOR	Bar.	Bart	BBC	bbl.
BBQ	BBS	BC	bcc	BCD
BCE	BCG	BD	Bde	Bdr
BDS	BE	BEd	Beds.	BEF
BEM	BEng	Berks.	BeV	BFPO
BG	BGH	BH	bi	BIS
bk	BL	BLitt	BM	BMA
BMI	BMR	BMus	bn	BNP
BO	BOD	bot.	bp	BPC
BPH	BPhil	bpi	bpm	bps
Bq	BR	Br.	Brig.	BRN
BRU	BS	BSc	BSE	BSI
BSL	BST	BT	Btu	BTW
Bucks.	BUPA	BUR	BVM	BWR
BYOB	c	C.-in-C.	c.f.	c.i.f.
c.w.o.	c/-	c/o	c/s	C2
C2C	ca	CAA	CAB	CAD
CADCAM	CAE	Caerns.	CAF	CAI
cal	Cal.	Calif.	CAM	Cambs.
Can.	Cant.	Cantab.	CAP	cap.
caps	Capt.	Card.	CARICOM	CAT
Cath.	CATV	CB	CBC	CBE
CBI	CBS	CC	CCD	CCJ
CCTV	cd	CD-R	CD-RW	Cd.
CDC	CDN	cDNA	Cdr	Cdre
CDT	CDV	CE	CEng	cent.
CEO	CERN	cert.	CertEd	CET
CF	cf.	CFC	CFE	CFS
CG	CGI	CGS	CGT	CH
ch.	chap.	Chas	ChB	CHD
Ches.	ChM	CHP	Chr.	Chron.
CI	CIA	CID	CIO	CITES
CJ	CJD	cl	CLit	Cllr
CM	Cm.	Cmd.	Cmdr	Cmdre
CMG	Cmnd.	CMV	CNAA	CND
CNG	CNN	CNS	CO	Co.
COD	Col.	Colo.	COMINT	comp
Con	Conn.	Cons.	Const.	cont.
COPD	Cor.	CORE	Corp.	cos
cosec	cosh	COSHH	cot	coth
Coy	CP	cp.	CPA	CPI
Cpl	CPO	CPR	CPS	CPU
CPVC	CR	Cr2	CRC	Cres.
cresc.	CRT	CS	CSA	CSE
CSM	CST	ct	CTC	CTS
CU	cu.	CV	CVO	CVS
CVT	CWO	cwt.	CY	d
D/A	D2	DA	DAB	DAC
Dak.	dal	dam	Dan.	DAT
dB	DBE	DBMS	DBS	DC
DCB	DCC	DCL	DCM	DCMG
DCVO	DD	DDI	DDos	DDR
DDT	DE	DEA	Dec.	DEFRA
deg.	Del.	Dem.	dep.	Dept
Deut.	DEW	DFC	DFE	DfES
Dfl	DFM	DG	DHSS	DHT
DI	dia.	DIL	dim.	DIMM
DIP	Dip.	DipAD	DipEd	DipHE
div	Div.	DJ	DK	dkl
dkm	DL	DLitt	DLL	DM
DMA	DMD	DMs	dmu	DMus
DMV	DMZ	DNB	DNR	DNS
do.	DOA	doc	DOD	DoE
DoH	DOI	dol.	DOS	DoT
doz.	DP	dpc	DPhil	dpi
dpm	DPP	DPT	Dr	dr.
DRAM	DS	DSc	DSL	DSM
DSO	DSP	DSS	DTD	DTI
DTP	DUI	DV	DVD	DVD-R
DVD-ROM	DVD-RW	DVLA	DWP	dwt
DY	dyn	DZ	e.g.	e.p.
E2	ea.	EAK	EAT	EAU
EBD	EBRD	EBV	EC	ECB
Eccles.	Ecclus	ECG	ECM	ECSC
ECT	ed.	EDI	edn	EDP
EDT	Edw.	EEC	EEG	EFA
EFL	EFTA	EFTPOS	EGM	ELF
ELT	EMF	EMG	EMS	EMU
enc.	encl.	ENE	ENG	ENT
EOC	EOT	EP	Ep.	EPA
Eph.	EPIRB	EPNS	EPO	EPOS
EPS	EPSRC	EQ	ER	ERM
ES	ESA	ESC	Esd.	ESE
ESL	ESN	ESOL	ESP	esp.
Esq.	ESR	ESRC	EST	est.
Esth.	ET	ETA	etc.	ETH
EU	Euratom	eV	EVA	Ex.
Exod.	exor	exp	ext.	Ezek.
f	f.o.b.	f.o.r.	f.w.d.	F2
FA	FAA	Fahr.	FAO	FAQ
FAS	FBA	FBI	FC	FCC
FCO	FD	FDA	FDDI	FE
Feb.	FET	ff	ff.	FHSA
FIFA	FIFO	fig.	FL	fl.
Fla	flor.	FM	FMV	FO
fo.	FOAF	FoE	fol.	forex
fp	FPA	FPS	FPU	Fr
fr.	Fri.	FRS	FS	FSA
FSH	Ft	FTC	FTP	fur.
fwd	FX	FY	FYI	G
g	G2	GA	Ga.	GABA
gal.	gall.	GAO	GB	GBA
GBE	GBG	GBH	GBJ	GBM
Gbyte	GBZ	GC	GCA	GCB
GCE	GCHQ	GCMG	GCSE	GCVO
Gdns	GDP	GDR	Gen.	Geo.
GeV	GG	GH	GHB	GHQ
GHz	GIGO	GIS	GLA	Glam.
GLC	Glos.	gm	GMO	GMS
GMT	GMWU	gn	GNP	Gnr
gns	GNVQ	GOC	GOP	gov.
govt	GP	gph	GPI	gpm
GPO	GPRS	GPS	GR	gr.
GRP	grt	gs	gsm	GSOH
GSR	GST	Gt	GUI	GUM
GUY	Gy	h	h.p.	H2
HAART	Hab.	Hag.	Hants	HB
HBM	HC	HCF	HDD	HDL
HDTV	HE	Heb.	Herts.	HEW
HF	HFC	HG	HGH	HGV
HH	hh.	hhd	HI	HIH
HIM	HIV	HK	HKJ	hl
hm	HMG	HMI	HMS	HMSO
HNC	HND	Hon	Hos.	HPV
HQ	hr	HRH	hrs	HRT
HSH	HST	HT	HTTP	HWM
Hz	I	I.Biol.	I.Chem.E.	i.e.
i.h.p.	I.Mech.E.	I.Min.E.	I.Mun.E.	i/c
I/O	I3	IA	IAEA	IATA
IB	IBA	IBF	IBM	IBRD
IBS	IC	ICAO	ICBM	ICC
ICE	ICI	ICT	ICU	ID
id.	IDA	IDE	IEE	IEEE
IF	IFC	IFR	Ig	IHS
IL	Ill.	ILO	ILP	ILS
IMAP	IMF	IMHO	IMO	IMP
IN	in.	Inc.	incl.	IND
Ind.	INF	INLA	INRI	INS
inst.	Inst.P.	int.	inter.	IOC
IOM	IOW	IP	IPA	IPO
IPR	IQ	IR	IRA	IRBM
IRC	IRL	IRO	IRQ	IRS
IS	Is.	ISA	ISBN	ISDN
ISO	ISP	ISSN	ISV	IT
ITA	ital.	ITC	ITN	ITU
ITV	IU	IUD	IUPAC	IV
IVF	IWC	IWW	J2	Jam.
Jan.	Jas.	JATO	JCL	JCR
JCS	Jer.	JET	JIT	Jn
Jnr	Jon.	Jos.	Josh.	JP
Jr	Jud.	Judg.	Jul.	Jun.
Junr	k	K2	Kan.	Kans.
KANU	kb	KBE	Kbps	kbyte
KC	kc/s	kcal	KCB	KCMG
KCVO	KE	keV	KG	Kgs
kHz	kJ	KKK	kl	km
km/h	kn.	Knt	KO1	KS
KStJ	KT	kV	kW	kWh
KWIC	KWT	Ky	l	l.c.
l.h.	L2	LA	La	Lab
LAC	LACW	Lam.	LAN	Lancs.
LAO	LAR	lat.	lb	LBDR
LBO	lbw	LCC	LCD	LCM
LCPL	LD	LDC	Ldg	LDL
LDS	LE	LEA	LED	Leics.
Lev.	LF	LGV	LH	LHD
LI	Lib.	LIBOR	Lieut.	LIFO
Lincs.	LittD	LJ	Lk.	ll.
LLB	LLD	LLM	LM	LMS
LMT	ln	LNB	LNG	long.
LP	LPG	LPO	LS	LSB
LSE	LSO	Lt	LTA	Ltd
LTP	LVO	LW	LWB	LWM
lx	m	m.m.f.	m.p.	M2
MA	Macc.	MAFF	Maj.	MAL
Mal.	Man.	Manit.	Mar.	Mass.
Matt.	max	MB	MBA	MBE
MBO	Mbps	Mbyte	Mc	MC
MCB	MCC	mcg	MCh	mCi
MCom	MCP	MCR	MD	Md.
MDF	MDMA	MDT	Me	MEcon
MEd	med.	MEP	Met	MeV
MEX	mf	MFH	mg	Mgr
MHK	MHR	MHz	MI	mi.
MI5	MI6	MIA	Mic.	Mich.
Middx	mil	min.	Minn.	MIRAS
MIS	misc.	Miss.	MIT	Mk
mks	Mkt	ml	MLA	MLC
MLD	MLitt	Mlle	MLR	mm
Mme	MMR	MMS	MMus	MN
MNA	MO	mo.	MOD	MOH
Mon.	Mont.	MOR	MORI	MP
MPC	mpg	mph	MPhil	MPV
MR	MRBM	MRC	MRCP	MRCVS
MRE	MRI	mRNA	MRPhS	MRSA
MS	MS-DOS	MSB	MSc	MSF
MSG	Msgr	MSgt	MSP	MSS
MT	Mt	MTB	MTBF	MTech
MusB	MusD	MV	MVO	MVP
MW	Mx	MY	n	n.d.
n.o.	n.p.	n/a	n/s	N2
NAACP	NAAFI	NAD	NAFTA	Nah.
NASA	NASDAQ	NASUWT	Nat.	NATFHE
NATO	NAV	NB	NBA	NBC
NBG	NC	NCO	ND	NDP
NE	NEB	Neb.	Nebr.	NEC
neg.	Neh.	NERC	Nev.	NF
NFL	Nfld	NFU	NGO	NH
NHS	NI	NIC	NIREX	NIV
NJ	NL	NLP	nm	NMR
NNE	NNP	NNW	No.	nom.
nor'	NORAD	Northants	Northumb.	nos
Notts.	Nov.	NP	NPV	nr
NRA	NRSV	ns	NSA	NSB
NSC	NSF	NSPCC	NSU	NSW
NT	Nth	NTP	NU	NUJ
NUM	Num.	NUS	NUT	NV
nvCJD	NVQ	NW	NY	NYC
NYSE	NZ	o	o.n.o.	o.p.
O2	OAP	OAPEC	OAS	OAU
OB	ob.	Obad.	OBE	OC
OCAS	OCD	OCR	oct.	OD1
Oe	OECD	OED	OEM	Ofcom
Off.	OFFER	Ofgas	Ofsted	OFT
Oftel	Ofwat	OH	OHC	OHMS
OHP	OHV	OIEO	OIRO	OK
Okla	OLE	OM	ON	ONC
OND	Ont.	OP	op-amp	Op.
OPEC	opp.	OR	orch.	ord.
Ore.	Oreg.	OS	OST	OT
OTC	OTE	OTT	OU	Oxf.
Oxon	oz	p	p.a.	p.c.
p.m.	p.s.i.	p.w.	P2	P2P
PA	Pa	PABX	PAC	par.
Parl.	PAS	Pat.	PAYE	pb
Pb	PBS	PBX	PC	PCB
PCI	PCM	PCMCIA	PCP	PCR
PCS	PCV	PD	PDA	PDP
PDQ	PDSA	PDT	PE	PEI
Pembs.	PEN	Pen.	Penn.	PEP
PET	Pet.	Pf.	PFA	Pfc.
PFI	PG	PGA	PGCE	PhD
Phil.	Philem.	PID	PIM	PIN
PIR	pk	PKU	PL	pl.
PLA	plc	PLO	PLP	PLR
PM	PMG	PMS	PMT	PNdB
PNG	PO	POP	pop.	POS
post-op	POV	POW	pp	PPARC
PPE	ppi	ppm	PPP	PPS
PPU	PPV	PQ	pr	PRA
Preb.	pref.	prep.	Pres.	PRO
Prof.	prop.	Prov.	prox.	PS
Ps.	PSBR	PSNI	PST	PSV
PT	Pt	PTA	PTE	PTFE
PTO	PTSD	Pty	pub.	PVA
PVC	PVS	Pvt.	PW	PWA
PWR	PY	q.v.	Q2	QB
QC	QCD	QED	Qld	QM
QMG	QMS	QPM	qr	QSO
qt	Que.	r	r.f.	r.h.
R2	RA	RAAF	RAC	RAD
RADA	RAF	RAID	rall.	RAM
RAMC	RAN	RAOC	RB	RBI
RC	RCA	RCH	RCM	RCMP
RCN	RCP	RCS	RCVS	RD
RDA	RDBMS	RDC	RDF	RDI
RDS	RE	recd	ref.	Regt
REME	Rep.	repr.	res	ret.
retd	Rev.	Revd	RFA	RFC
RGN	RGS	Rh	RHD	RHS
RI	RIA	RIBA	RICS	RIM
RIP	rit.	RL	rly	RM
RMA	RMM	RMP	rms	RMT
RN	RNAS	RNLI	RNZAF	RNZN
ro-ro	ROC	ROCE	ROE	ROI
ROK	ROM	rom.	RoSPA	ROTC
ROV	RP	RPG	RPI	rpm
rpt	RPV	RR	rRNA	RRP
Rs	RSA	RSC	RSFSR	RSI
RSJ	RSM	RSPB	RSPCA	RSV
RSVP	RTÉ	RT	RTA	rte
RTF	RU	RUC	RV	RWA
Ry	s	S-VHS	s.c.	s.h.p.
s.v.	S2	SA	SAC	SACD
SACW	SAD	sae	SALT	SAM
Sam.	SAR	SARS	SAS	SASE
Sask.	SAT	Sat.	SATB	SAYE
SBS	SC	sc.	ScD	SCE
sch.	SCID	Scot.	SCR	SCSI
SD	SDI	SDLP	SDP	SDR
SE	SEA	SEAQ	SEATO	sec
sec.	sect.	SEM	SEN	Sen.
Senr	Sept.	Sergt	SERPS	SETI
SF	SFA	SFX	sfz	SG
sgd	SGML	SGP	Sgt	sh.
SHAPE	SI	SIB	SIDS	Sig.
SIMM	sin	sing.	sinh	Sir.
SIS	SJ	SJC	SK	SLBM
SLD	SLE	SLR	SM	SME
SMS	SMSgt	SMTP	SN	SNP
Snr	So.	Soc.	SOE	SOHO
Som.	SP	sp.	SPAD	SPCK
SPF	spp.	SPQR	Spr	sq.
SQL	SQUID	sr	Sr	SRA
SRAM	SRN	SRO	SS1	SSAFA
SSC	SSE	SSL	SSP	ssp.
SSRC	SSRI	SSSI	SST	SSW
st	Sta.	Staffs.	START	stat
STD	stg	Sth	STOL	STP
str.	Sts	Sub-Lt.	Sun.	Supt
Sus.	Sv	SVGA	SW	SWA
SWAPO	SWG	SY	SYR	t
T2	TA	TAB	TAM	tan
tanh	Tas.	TB	TBA	TBC
tbsp	TCD	TCDD	TCM	TCP/IP
TD	TEFL	tel.	temp	temp.
ten.	Tenn.	TENS	TESL	TESOL
Tex.	TFT	TG	TGWU	Th.
THC	Thess.	THI	Thos	Thur.
TIA	TIFF	Tim.	Tit.	TKO
TLC	TM	TN	TNT	to
Tob.	TOC	TOW	Tpr	TQM
TR	TRH	tRNA	TSgt	tsp
TSR	TSS	TT	TTL	TTS
TU	Tu.	TUC	Tues.	TV
TVA	TVEI	TVP	TX	u.c.
U2	UAE	UBR	UC	UCAS
UDA	UDC	UDI	UDR	UEFA
UF	UHF	UHT	UK	UKAEA
ult.	UMTS	UN	UNA	UNCSTD
UNCTAD	UNDP	UNDRO	UNEP	UNESCO
UNFPA	UNHCR	UNICEF	UNIDO	UNITAR
Univ.	UNRWA	UPS	UPU	uPVC
URC	URL	US	USA	USAF
USB	USD	USM	USN	USP
USS	USSR	UT	UTC	Utd
UV	UVA	UVB	UVC	v
V2	VA	VAD	VAR	var.
VAT	VC	vCJD	VCR	VD
VDT	VDU	VED	Ven.	VFR
VG	VGA	vgc	VHF	VHS
VI	Vic.	VIN	VIP	Vis.
Visc.	VJ	VLF	VLSI	VN
VO	VOD	vol.	vols	VP
VPL	VPN	VR	VRML	VS
VSO	VSOP	VT	VTO	VTOL
VTR	vv.	w	w.e.f.	w.f.
w.p.	w/o	W2	WA	WAC
WAG	WAL	WAN	WAP	War.
Wash.	Wb	WBA	WBC	WC
WCC	WD	WEA	Wed.	Weds.
WEU	WFTU	WHO	WI	Wi-Fi
Wilts.	WIP	WIPO	Wis.	Wisd.
wk	WLTM	Wm	WMD	WML
WMO	WNW	WO	Worcs.	WORM
WP	WPC	wpm	WRAC	WRAF
WRNS	WRVS	WSW	wt	WTO
WV	WWF	WWI	WWII	WWW
WY	Wyo.	X	X3	xd
XHTML	XL	XML	y	Y2
Y2K	YAC	yd	YHA	YMCA
Yorks.	yr	yrs	YT	YTS
YV	YWCA	Z2	ZA	ZANU
ZAPU	Zech.	Zeph.	ZW

The Twelve Essays of Christmas: Plural Doves

Some nouns usually occur in the plural form.

Scissors and trousers are the obvious examples, but the COED lists 598.

There's no logical reason why you can't use any of these words in the singular, but aside from a gay pride march, when have you ever worn one trunk? Is the smallest unit of greeting one felicitaion? If your room is only slightly messy, is that a shamble? How cold are you if you have a solitary goosebump? What kind of surgery can a doctor do with one forcep? So far in this country I haven't got up to a single shenanigan, or had just one operatic.

So welcome to my ephemerum, which required just one cojone to make, and is best seen through a binocular. 598 plural nouns.

abdabs	ackers	acrobatics
adenoids	adnexa	aerobatics
aerobics	aerodynamics	aeronautics
aesthetics	Africana	afterpains
afters	agnolotti	airwaves
Albigenses	alexanders	alms
amaretti	amends	Americana
Amish	analects	animatronics
annals	annates	anthropophagi
antics	Antipodes	Apocrypha
apologetics	aquarobics	arcana
archaea	archaebacteria	arisings
arms	arrears	astronautics
astrophysics	athletics	atmospherics
avionics	Bacchanalia	backblocks
backstairs	backwoods	badlands
Baganda	ballistics	ballocks
banns	barracks	Basotho
battels	bedclothes	beestings
Belgae	bell	belles
bellows	belongings	bibliometrics
bilboes	billiards	binoculars
biodata	biodynamics	bioenergetics
bioethics	bioinformatics	biomechanics
bionomics	biophysics	biosolids
biosystematics	biscotti	blandishments
blini	blinks	bliny
bloomers	bluchers	blues
bollocks	boondocks	boonies
bowls	branks	breeches
breeks	briefs	bristols
Bros	buckyballs	buckytubes
bumsters	cahoots	calamari
calends	calisthenics	Callanetics
callisthenics	camiknickers	cannelloni
cantharides	capellini	cappelletti
castanets	cattle	chaparajos
chaps	chausses	Chilopoda
chitterlings	chives	chops
chromodynamics	chuddies	churidars
circs	civics	cladistics
clamdiggers	claspers	claves
cleavers	cliometrics	clothes
coccidia	cognoscenti	cojones
collywobbles	combinatorics	commons
congrats	Consols	cornflakes
cornrows	craps	crenellations
criminalistics	crosstrees	crostini
crudités	cryogenics	cryonics
culottes	culturati	curiosa
customs	cyanobacteria	cybernetics
cytogenetics	daks	darbies
darts	dermatoglyphics	deserts
Dianetics	dibs	dietetics
digerati	diggings	digs
dioptrics	dogmatics	doldrums
dramatics	dreadlocks	dregs
droppings	DTs	duckboards
dumps	dynamics	earmuffs
earnings	eaves	Ebonics
econometrics	economics	eights
ejecta	electro	electrodynamics
electronics	elevenses	energetics
entrails	environs	ephemera
equites	ergonomics	erotica
esoterica	estovers	ethics
eubacteria	eugenics	Eumenides
eurhythmics	eurythmics	evens
exequies	exotica	exuviae
facetiae	faeces	fajitas
falsies	fantods	farfalle
fasces	fauces	fedayeen
felicitations	felloes	fettuccine
fidayeen	filings	fisherfolk
fisticuffs	fives	fleshpots
flews	flinders	fluidics
folk	folkways	fomites
footlights	forceps	forequarters
frites	fry	fusilli
galligaskins	gallows	galluses
gasworks	genetics	genitalia
genomics	gentlefolk	geophysics
geotechnics	geriatrics	giblets
glanders	glasses	gleanings
glitterati	gnashers	gnocchi
goings	goods	goosebumps
goujons	graffiti	graphics
grissini	grits	groats
grouts	gubbins	gymnastics
habdabs	hachures	Hagiographa
halteres	hames	have
heebie	hindquarters	hip
hives	hols	housewares
hunkers	hydraulics	hydrodynamics
hydromagnetics	hydromechanics	hydroponics
Iceni	ides	illuminati
imaginings	impedimenta	indicia
informatics	innards	isagogics
isometrics	jeans	jim
jodhpurs	Joneses	juvenilia
kalends	kecks	keftedes
kinematics	kinesics	kinetics
kinfolk	kinsfolk	knickers
kreplach	krill	kuccha
lamb's	lapilli	lares
lashings	leavings	lederhosen
lees	leggings	Lepidoptera
lights	linguine	linguistics
links	literati	logistics
loons	Maccabees	macroeconomics
macrolepidoptera	magnetohydrodynamics	manes
marginalia	married	mathematics
maths	means	measles
mechanics	mechatronics	megabucks
memorabilia	menfolk	meninges
menses	metalinguistics	metaphysics
microeconomics	microelectronics	microglia
microlepidoptera	microphysics	militaria
minutiae	miscellanea	mnemonics
Mods	moletronics	moneybags
monkeyshines	morbilli	mores
morphemics	morphometrics	mujahedin
mumps	munchies	muniments
munition	mustachios	nares
nates	neurolinguistics	nightclothes
ninepins	nones	noughties
nucleonics	numbles	numismatics
obsequies	odds	off
oligodendroglia	onomastics	oodles
operatics	optics	optoelectronics
orecchiette	orientalia	orthodontics
orthopaedics	orthoptics	orthotics
orts	otaku	outskirts
overtrousers	paediatrics	pajamas
pantalettes	panties	pantihose
pants	pantyhose	pappardelle
paralipomena	Paralympics	paratroops
parings	pataphysics	payess
pease	pediatrics	penates
penetralia	penne	people
periodontics	perogi	personnel
pharmacodynamics	pharmacogenomics	pharmacokinetics
phonetics	phonics	photovoltaics
physics	pickings	pierogi
pilliwinks	piroshki	plaudits
pliers	pneumatics	poetics
politics	porcini	pragmatics
premises	proceedings	proceeds
prosthetics	proteomics	proxemics
pseudepigrapha	psy	psychodynamics
psychographics	psycholinguistics	psychometrics
psychophysics	psychotronics	pyjamas
pyrotechnics	rackets	radionics
ramen	ramsons	ratlines
ravioli	rectrices	regalia
regimentals	reliquiae	remains
remiges	reprographics	rheumatics
riches	rigatoni	rillettes
robotics	rompers	rounders
salopettes	Sami	sastrugi
scads	scanty	schlieren
scissors	secateurs	sedilia
semantics	semi	semiotics
separate	shambles	shears
shenanigans	shingles	shorts
Siksika	skunkworks	smithereens
soapsuds	sociolinguistics	sonics
spätzle	spaetzle	spaghetti
spaghettini	specs	spectacles
spindle	spondulicks	squitters
staggers	statics	statistics
stats	steelworks	stemmatics
sternsheets	stovies	strangles
stylistics	subtropics	suds
sunglasses	supersonics	surroundings
sweatpants	systematics	tagliatelle
talaria	tapas	tectonics
tectonophysics	tectrices	teens
tefillin	telecoms	telematics
telesales	Tenebrae	tennies
teraphim	thanks	therapeutics
thermae	thermodynamics	thinnings
throes	tidings	tights
timpani	tinsnips	toiletries
toils	tongs	toreutics
tortelli	townspeople	tracasseries
tradespeople	traps	trews
trivia	trousers	trunks
tsitzit	tweezers	tympani
ultrasonics	umbles	underclothes
underpants	undershorts	underthings
undies	vermicelli	vibrissae
Victoriana	videographics	viscera
vivers	Waldenses	waterfowl
waterworks	WAVES	weeds
weejuns	wildfowl	willies
wimmin	withers	womenfolk
womyn	workpeople	Y-fronts
yaws	yips	yonks
ziti

The Twelve Essays of Christmas: Partridge!

Most of what I learned about grammar in school was wrong.

English doesn't have a true infinitive, and even if it did, there'd be nothing wrong in splitting it.

There are not exactly eight types of word - the number of categories depends on the system of categorisation. Obviously.

English doesn't have three tenses referring to time - namely past, present and future. Tense is a grammatical category, while 'timeframe' is a semantic one. We use the so-called 'present tense' to refer to plans for the future, as in "We leave tomorrow", and we use the so-called 'past tense' to refer to things which aren't the case in the present, as in "If I knew, I'd say".

And by the way, there's only two tenses.

It's not true that every sentence needs a verb. Sentences like "Wow!" and "Well, yes and no" are definitely verbless, and we have a vaguely defined category of words which occur in verbless utterances. We call them exclamations, or interjections, and the Concise Oxford English Dictionary contains 297 of them.

Now wouldn't it be useful to have a list of all the exclamations in the COED? And indeed all the pronouns, verbs, 'determiners' and so on? Well, it might be useful to me, and it might even be interesting to you.

I've spent the last few days extracting words and their categories from the COED (11th edition). The book has 28 'types' of word, and I'll be going through them. Time, personal energy, internet access and upcoming holidays permitting.

So, in no particular order other than alphabetical, here are the 297 interjections, exclamations and sententially verbless utterances.

abracadabra	adieu	adios
affirmative	ah	aha
ahem	ahoy	alack
alleluia	alley	aloha
alright	amen	arrividerci
attaboy	avast	avaunt
ave	aw	ay
aye	bah	bam
banco	banzai	bedad
begad	begone	begorra
bejabers	bejesus	bingo
bismillah	blast	blimey
bo	boing	boo
boohoo	bother	bow
boy	bravo	brother
brrr	bye	bye
capeesh	caramba	cave
charmed	charming	check
cheerio	cheers	chin
chop	Christ	ciao
confound	coo	cor
crikey	cripes	croeso
crumbs	dammit	damn
damnation	dang	dash
dear	diddums	doh
drat	duh	easy
ee	eek	egad
eh	encore	er
eureka	arewell	faugh
fie	lip	floreat
fore	udge	gad
gadzooks	gangway	Gawd
gee	gee	Geez
Geronimo	gesundheit	giddy
God	Godspeed	golly
good	goodbye	goodness
goodnight	goody	gosh
gotcha	gracious	ha
hah	hail	hallelujah
hallo	halloo	hang
heave	heck	heel
heigh	heigh	hell
hello	help	hem
here	hey	hi
hic	hip	hist
hiya	hmm	ho
ho	hoicks	holla
hooray	hoots	how
howdy	howzat	hoy
huh	hullo	hum
humph	hurrah	hushaby
huzza	nshallah	eepers
Jeez	Jesus	ings
awks	o	ook
or	ord	Lordy
umme	man	marry
mercy	mush	night
nit	no	nope
O	och	ochone
oh	oho	ohone
oi	OK	okey
olé	ooh	oops
oops	ouch	ow
oy	oyez	pah
pardon	pax	peccavi
phew	phut	phwoah
pish	poo	poof
pooh	pouf	pow
presto	prithee	prosit
pshaw	psst	quite
rah	at	rather
really	ight	righto
righty	oger	salut
say	sayonara	selah
shabash	shalom	shazam
sheesh	shh	shoo
shoot	shucks	shush
siree	skol	slainte
steady	strewth	struth
suck	a	ta
ta	ally	there
timber	oodle	touché
tush	ut	tut
ugh	uh	uh
uh	uh	um
ups	upsy	viva
voila	wahoo	wakey
welcome	well	whacko
whatever	whee	wheesht
whew	whisht	whist
whoa	whoops	whoops
whoosh	why	wilco
wo	woomph	woosh
wotcha	yah	yah
yahoo	yeah	yeehaw
yes	yessir	yikes
yippee	yo	yo
yoicks	yoo	yuck
yum	zounds

In the beginning...

The world ended recently.

Or more accurately, a calendar ran out of days, and people got confused between actual days and the numbers used to count them. They thought running out of numbers meant running out of days, which is like thinking your room can't be longer than your tape measure.

It's nearly christmas, except here it isn't. In spite of the fact that several muslims have wished me a happy christmas.

Today is the 23rd of December 2012, except here it's the 10th of Safar 1434. Except there are at least ten institutions which calculate the lunar day of the islamic month, based on the 'interesting' method of looking through a telescope every night and trying to see 24 hours into the future to know whether the next time you look...the moon crescent will seem any thinner or not.

If tomorrow it won't, today is the first day of the month. And some people aren't any better at astronomy than they are at prophecy, so according to some, it's the 9th. This isn't just a problem for practical purposes of timetabling events and holidays, or the pretend-practical purposes of calculating which minute god wants you to start telling him how wonderful he is.

No, there's a psychological aspect of needing to know what day it 'really' is, even if it's only 'real' in one country - which by the way is defined by a line on a map which we pretend is the world.

This kind of thing happens a lot. Treating the symbol as the thing, the word as the reality, the syllabus as the subject.

In fact I think it's the main problem in human thinking. Following the spirit of the law is one thing, trying to reinterpret the word of the law and/or observations of reality until they match is another - but guess which is the job of the lawyer. How many of us feel we understand a phenomenon better just by having a word for it?

The word 'schizophrenia' refers to a loose collection of behaviors defined not by the internal states of the sufferer, but by which cultural taboos, habbits, power structures and conveniences they violate. It's no accident that different cultures have different ideas about what constitutes mental illness. But how do we 'explain' the behaviors? We speak as though they're caused by something called 'schizophrenia'.

If you have a phobia, the chances are the mention of the word which refers to the object of fear will trigger the fear. Saying the name of someone you love can be a comfort, as though holding on to the word were a way of holding the person. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, recite a prayer and you're protected. Somehow saying 'thank you' is more real than being grateful, even when the thanks is a lie.

This pattern of reification is obviously a problem, but I think it's a consequence of the ability to make symbols at all. A symbol stands in the place of the thing - whether or not the thing exists. And when we make plans, ask questions, and construct theories, we're moving symbols around.

The price of the ability to think, is the ability to think badly, and that includes treating words as deeds, and vice versa. "En Arche Ein Ho Logos" - "In the beginning was the word" - as we said in seminary.

But I might be wrong, because the categories of 'word' and 'deed' are only separate in the system of symbols I'm using.

My Bad (Part 1)

I'm not actually a very good teacher.

I'm a fairly popular teacher, which tends to get confused with being a good one. I'm fairly good at giving students the impression they've learned something, even when they haven't, and that's practically the definition of an effective communicator.

But turning the very complex into the very simple while not making it very abstract. Making digressions which illustrate the point rather than obscure it. Faking infectious enthusiasm.

No, not much cop on that.

At heart, I have always been a technician. A problem solver. The one who finds the better new way to do the old thing, and occasionally invents the new thing in the process.

I'm the one who's just spent a weekend working out how to take some badly scanned overlarge English-course PDFs, convert them to graphics, clean up the images and sort them into a more useful order...and how to automate each stage. The result is a set of presentable textbooks small enough to email, made while I slept.

Actually using them is the dull part, because I'm bored by what I already know, and the general idea of a teacher is that they already know the subject pretty well...and aren't bored by talking about it.

The interesting thing would be to write a better textbook, based on what I've learned while teaching from it. And I've a fairly good idea how to do it - mainly not using grammatical forms in the exercises that haven't been taught yet.

But there's no time, because I've got around six classes a day. It seems that to be productive you must have plenty of free time, but must also used to have been busy.

And no, I'm not sure whether that is a correct English sentence.

Greasy Teachy

Tips for Teachers 128: Get oiled up.

In your classroom, you probably have a whiteboard, some marker pens, and an eraser (aka board rubber).

Unless you're in Germany or the 1970s, in which case you have a blackboard, some sticks of chalk (which is actully gypsum), and a board rubber (aka eraser).

Even in Bulgaria I had a whiteboard, but German schools are literal chalk-and-talk. Retro if you like it, Altmodisch if you don't.

Now, I have a new whiteboard. It's big (2 meters by 1.5), very nice looking, and - because this is Saudi Arabia - Made-in-China and Damaged-in-Transit.

There's also a label saying "Please remove protective film before use"...and no sign of protective film.

And last night it took me an hour to clean off the board marker from the lesson. It seems marker ink doesn't clean off easily, even with water, on new boards.

The reason it doesn't is that the ink is soluable in oil but not water. That's why grimy fingers can sometimes remove what clean cloth can't. The ink itself contains oil, but you need to write a few lessons on the board for enough oil to build up to clean it easily.

Either that...or smear some mayonnaise from your packed lunch on the board, and rub it around. Which is what I did. And it worked.

Nice, clean board, smelling slightly of delicatessan, ready for the next class.

But in case you think my class isn't classy, I also got some extra-virgin olive oil. For the sophisticated TEFLer to rub around.

The Strange Report (Part 3)

I was about the shut up shop at night, when a young man knocked on the door and walked nervously into the classroom.

He was in his early twenties, with dark shumak and thorp, his face showing a neat pencil moustache and a near-permanant nervous smile.

He told me, in quite good english, that he was a student of engineering. That's far from unusual - 95% of adult students are studying either civil engineering or medicine. For the other 5% it's usually management consulting - and one day the world might find out what that is.

So he was learning engineering, but he wanted to improve his english, and he wanted to sign up for one of our reasonably priced courses. Yes? Erm, no.

He wanted to know the purpose of life. What should he do with his life? What was the hidden plan behind his being born? What was the purpose of my life? Why was I put on this earth?

I said some people thought our purpose was to please god. And others said it was to love one another. Or maybe it was to lessen unhappiness whenever we found it.

He did his nervous toothy smile and hid his face shyly behind his hands. He wanted to say something. Wanted to tell me or ask me something. But he couldn't - he was frightened or embarassed.

And so he agreed with me, shook hands, and said goodbye.

The Strange Report (Part 2)

Hospitality is a major part of Arab culture. But it's not the same thing as friendship.

And arab friendship isn't the same thing as western friendship.

For us in the decadent west, friendship is an emotion, which we signal with nods, smiles and smalltalk. For them, it's a complicated set of rituals, varying between tribes and areas. Shaking hands on meeting and parting, kissing the head of older male family members, using certain greeting words, air-kissing if you're close - but not if you're opposite sexes.

Friendship is also an emotion of course, but the emotion and the rituals are inextricably interwoven and blended together, so there's no point where one ends and the other begins.

Hospitality is also ritualised, and the point is it looks superficially like friendship. When someone new enters the room, everyone stands up and are greeted - in a clockwise direction as newcommer sees them. The youngest non-child male member of the family (or an immigrant servant) serves coffee, again clockwise, and they can't sit until invited to do so.

One of my students felt it was important to offer me hospitality, which includes introducing me to his family, especially the nominal patriarch.

We drank heil (strong coffee flavoured with cardamom), ate dates and compared countries we'd visited. It included the usual comments about how the Bangladeshis who come to sweep the streets and serve the fast food are lazy and lack ambition.

But then oh there was much apologising. For the hospitality was defective - they were not being sufficiently welcoming to the vistor. Because they didn't have a sheep handy.

A sheep to cut its throat and let it hang upside down to bleed out completely. And maybe then cooked and a joint served on a bed of yellow rice.

I said they'd been quite welcoming enough and I was grateful for everything they'd done.

The Strange Report (Part 1)

As I was walking the 50 meters from my hotel to the school, a man stepped out in front of me.

He was wearing the traditional white thorp (like a long, loose nightshirt, but for formal outdoor wear) and shumak (the cloth head covering decorated with red and white squares). He had a short beard, tough leather sandals on his feet, and half a paper cup of coffee in one hand.

In other words, he mostly looked like your typical arab. Except for the mad staring eyes. You only get those in dumb American TV shows about suicide bombers.

But this man wasn't brandishing a bomb. He was brandishing a silver coin. Like a protective talisman. And he was staring at me.

I thought: Is this a beggar? A holy man? An insane person? An insane holy beggar?

He followed me to the school. And then into the school. But not up the stairs. Instead he shouted after me in well pronounced English: "I...know...who...you...are...and...what...you...do!".

The people who worked in the cafe downstairs made the international sign for 'screw loose', and the mad man wandered away.

This is the only time I have felt even slightly threatened in Saudi Arabia.

The Power of Three

I have three categories of student - men, children, and a teenage girl.

The men get themselves to the classroom in time for the lesson - ie. anything from 15 minutes early to 45 minutes late - and leave with a bundle of notes which they never look at again.

The children are dropped off by their fathers, and picked up again 90 minutes later. Like children everywhere, almost all have no interest in sitting in a classroom - especially as they spent all morning sitting in a state-run classroom.

The fathers are also like most fathers everywhere, in that they're pushy, opinionated, and want the teacher to focus exclusively on their beloved offspring, for extra time, at half the standard rate. Whether said offspring like it or not.

There are boys and girls among the children, and they spontaneously segregate themselves into opposite sides of the room, never communicating, and pretending the other side doesn't exist. The girls know more, the boys talk more.

Then there's one girl of fifteen. And although she goes to school, she's not allowed to come to our school. Why? Because hormones. Whose hormones, I'm not sure, but it's definitely because hormones.

Boys of sixteen, no problem - because...well, because boy hormones. Boys of sixteen mixing with boys of ten, no problem. But for a teenage girl, I have to be driven to her home, sit and talk for an hour with father in the next room, and then he drives me back.

Plenty of parents want me to teach their young children in their homes, but official school policy is to always refuse. Why? Because security.

Security of who, and against what, is not exactly clear. But as an excuse, this one's useful.

No Problem

The mark of a stable life is an empty blog.

The mark of a happy life is a boring blog.

So, sorry to be empty and boring. There'll be a crisis along soon, I'm sure. My problems at the moment are:

* The shower in the hotel room is a bit rubbish.

* My job involves trying to explain complicated ideas about grammar to people raised with different complicated ideas about a different grammar...while disguising it as games and puzzles about vocabulary.

* The printer has broken down - and for some reason, a lack of printed handouts make students feel like it's not a proper lesson.

* My urine has turned orange. Too much pepsi-cola?

* Everything stops five times a day, every day, for half an hour. Including one at 5am. Except for Fridays, when the afternoon hiatus lasts four hours.

The shops shut, businesses go on hold, and the mosque across the road starts playing acapella singing over the tannoy.

When the wind is just right, I get two different tannoys at five in the morning.

Not that people spend the whole time praying. Most do a one minute prayer, then sit in their homes watching TV, find a place outside with some shade and chat, have a rest at work...or drive around.

It doesn't mean they're less devout, just less inclined to make a public show of it.

Anyway, for three periods of my working day, I get locked in - or out - of the building.

* There's no time for blogging.

A Grand Day Out

A day of being a tourist.

There are two kinds of road. Those which connect one part of a city to another, and those which connect cities. They're made of the same stuff, probably by the same people, and they're painted with the same lines signifying pretty much the same laws. But they feel completely different. Intra-city roads are a convenience. Inter-city roads...are what make a lot of the cities possible.

What colour is the desert? I always imagined it as yellow - on the grounds that the sand on the beach is yellow, or maybe brown. But no - The Sahara is red.

Camels. Smaller than I expected. More like ponies than horses. But the musky-dust smell, the somehow snooty aura of vague curiosity, and the body designed by a committee...all there.

Even in the middle of the desert, there are places provided for you to lie down, relax, and maybe smoke some shisha. Arabs know about downtime.

The castle of the ancient town of Qareer. 'Ancient' here means 'about 200 years old'. Saudi in it's unified form is maybe 60 years old, and it's gone from nomadic with pockets or agrarian culture...to a place where everyone has a smartphone, owns Adidas casuals and drinks Pepsi, in less than a lifetime. Old things look older than they are.

Castles are where kings live, right? Not this one. This is a place for the citizens to gather and be protected from an invading army. The doors are three feet high, so people can crawl into the small rooms - but soldiers can't charge in. There are holes in the walls to shoot arrows through, but only room for say a cramped hundred people and a fortnight's supply of food.

The remains of Qareer, and the modern town.

Inside a larger castle. Grander, more ornate, and with historical stories attached.

Around the back, a sheep and goat farm.

This is the beach. That's what they call it. An artificial oasis, specifically built for families to visit, bring a rug, and sit on it with a little picnic, looking out across the water.

We had a rug, some fizzy drinks from the 'Supermarket' (service station) and time to take in the view.

Every tourist attraction has a museum, every historical site has buried artifacts, and every civilisation needs things to put other things in.

Another thing most civilisations seem to develop - bread. Even those which have rice or other carbyhydrate staples. The Arabic word for bread is "Khoobz", and the word for carbohydrate is...Karbohidrat. The same as the German. But if you want bread, you need crops...and grinding stones.

"The Gun is Good."

Every time there's a new king, there's a new king's face to go on the money. And on every available billboard. No 'dead presidents' here. Which means a lot of notes and a few billboards are out of date - though you can still spend the money.

What I said about old things? Video cassette recorders had their own glass box. As did medium wave radios. We sometimes say of old technology that it belongs in a museum. Here, it actually does.

These phones are so old they're not actually mp3 players in disguise.

Poetry and mathematics may have been developed to a high level here, but taxidermy...

...less so.

Where there is a site of historical interest, there is a museum. And where there's a museum, there's a gift shop. And where there's a gift shop, there's toxic levels of kitsch.

Roughly translated, "Allah is mother and father", so my guide informed me. Pink is a very happy colour, and it's only the lapsed protestant in me which associates religious devotional decoration with being dour.

Yes, it's a giant coffee pot and cup. And no, it's not to advertise a chain of coffee shops, or a hotel, or even a brand of coffee. It's public art, and I think we could all use more of it.

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"Ideology is always most effective when invisible."

- Terry Eagleton

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"The best way to preserve one's values is to practice them."

- Terry Eagleton

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"If the ideologist will not listen to reason, maybe the pragmatist will."

- Terry Eagleton

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"An actor’s a guy who, if you ain’t talking about him, ain’t listening. ”

- Marlon Brando

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"Tradition is one part expectation, one part wish fulfillment, and one part convenient denial."

- Shawn Baker

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If You Can Keep Your Head

The thing about teaching a subject is, it forces you to understand it, clearly and in detail.

Actually, most of the time it doesn't do anything of the kind. Most teachers have settled on a particular way of explaining a particular theory, which the average student accepts as the complete and only truth - at least until they have to apply it, at which point they find it vague, confused, partly true, only sometimes true...or completely wrong.

Or indeed utterly meaningless - nevermind that the examiner gave them full marks for reciting the approved formulations with the standard examples.

But the student doesn't need the theory for anything more than passing the exam, because they use a different, implicit theory in the real world. And the teacher doesn't need deeper understanding because they're not paid to teach anything that deep. And their boss doesn't need a teacher who rocks the boat by disagreeing with the textbooks.

However, my job is not to teach students to pass exams in English. My job is to teach students English. For use in the real world. Which means I've got to understand what the grammar of English really is, not what the books say. Which means...

...I've pretty much got to write my own textbook. Which I do by taking what I learn about grammar at school, and changing it until:

(1) it fits all the real-world examples I can find, and
(2) I can't invent any plausible counter-examples.

Still with me? Well...nevermind. This is what I learned from books with 'Grammar' in the title, about conditionals in English:

A conditional is an "If". It's an utterance containing two sentences, called the antecedant and the consequent, preceeded by the word "If", and separated by a comma (and sometimes the word "then").

There are four kinds of conditional, labeled "Zero", "First", "Second" and, amazingly, "Third".

In a Zero conditional, the antecedent and consequent are both in the Present-Simple form, for example:

If you heat water to 100 degrees, it boils.
If someone eats a pound of arsenic, they die.
If Brenda eats too many cream cakes, she puts on weight.

These express laws of nature, or consequences that always follow from the antecedents.

In a First conditional, the antecedent is in the Present-simple form, and the consequent in the Future-simple, for example:

If you drive too fast, you will crash.
If your child reads this book, they will do better in school.
If the sun comes out tomorrow, we'll go to the beach.

This is used for consequences that are likely, but not certain.

Third conditionals are a Past-simple antecedent, and a consequent composed of the word "would", plus a present simple. Examples:

If he proposed marriage, I would accept.
If she took singing lessons, her singing would be much better.
If we all worked less and loved more, the world would be nicer.

And finally the third conditional, which is a Past-perfect antecedant, and a "would have" followed by a past participle in the consequent. Examples:

If I had known you were coming, I'd have baked cake.
If we'd known, we'd have acted sooner.
If Mary had listened in school, she wouldn't be working now as a waitress.

This form is for things where the antecedent was once possible, but didn't happen, so the consequent never came to pass.

There are also things known as "mixed conditionals", most commonly the 2/3 conditional, which has the antecedent of the Second and the consequent of the third, for example:

If he proposed marriage, I'd have accepted.

These are really just disguised Third conditionals. They're a regional and class variation that you should be aware of, but not use.

Okay, did any of that stir distant memories of grammar classes? And if it did, what's wrong with it?

Well, here's some conditional sentences:

If she starts singing again, I'm leaving the room.
If the film's already started, I won't watch it.
If I saw them yesterday, I've forgotten.
If I saw them tomorrow, I'd say hello.
If she's been dating him, we should meet him soon.
If the world ended tomorrow, I would spend the day eating ice cream.
If the world ended tomorrow, I'd have wasted my time preparing this lesson.
If the world had been ending yesterday, Rupert Murdoch would have been trying to make a profit out of it.

According to the above model, none of these are possible. So as my old political friends use to say, either the theory's wrong, or reality's wrong, and which do you think is more likely?

So what's my alternative? Well, stay tuned, and as soon as I've got the strength to write it up, I'll post it.

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"I can't remember when I first realized that most politicians are even less competent than I am."

- Mattin Robbins

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"It must be awful, being a homophobe. Having to spend all that time obsessing about what gay people might be doing with their genitals."

- Charlie Brooker

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"Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time."

- Stephen Wright

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"The only people obsessed with food are anorexics and the morbidly obese."

- Stephen Fry

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"It's the noise that makes me human."

- Assemblage 23

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"Watching sport is usually less interesting than watching cardboard exist."

- Charlie Brooker

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"Any sentence that starts with 'everybody knows...' has a decent chance of being utter bollocks."

- Dean Burnett

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Day of Rest

It's Sunday.

Actually it's Friday, but the Arab weekend is Thursday and Friday so...I got up at midday and had a leasurely breakfast of last night's curry leftovers with pepsi cola.

Other people do work as normal at the weekend - coffee shop servers, manual labourers, delivery van driver, electricians, plumbers etc. Or as we call them, Indians, Sri Lankans, Bangladeshis and Pakistanis.
Much like Britain really, the ones who actually rest on the days of rest are the ones who wear suits when they're working.

Which suddenly now includes me. I've abruptly become respectable and upper-middle class. Well, lower-uppper-middle class. And therefore obsessed with fine class distinctions.

So how does a respectable, suit-wearing, intellectual working, foreigner live? Well, here's some snaps of my hotel rooms.

The air conditioning unit. Gives you a choice - you can either try to sleep in the hot, muggy air, or do it in the cool air - with the loud rattling and grinding directly over your head.

The view from my window. Would be more representative with cars swerving and screeching to avoid each other.

My bed. Under the air conditioner.

There are three types of electrical socket, and therefore three types of plug. And therefore a lot of converters. Oh, and two distinct systems of voltage - 110v and 220v. Getting the pins to connect is an art and a science, as the size of the pins, the size (and to some extent shape) of the pinholes, and the distances between are somewhat variable. The upshot of which is... what you see is the precise angle of 'hang' and 'tilt' which my TV and receiver box need for reliable power.

The sink. Located next to the bathroom/toilet/laundry room, just inside the front door, and two rooms away from where a sink would be useful, ie. the kitchen. Is this an example of different cultural choices that make perfect sense if you know the history...or an architect whose idea of convenience was "Put everything that needs a water supply in the same place"...?

Bowls and plates. Always useful - mainly for storing three quarters of the absurdly large takeaways you live on, in the fridge.

For making the tea and coffee - served in tiny little cups. This one was in the previous hotel I stayed in...and it was next to the plastic kettle and supersize mug, which actually made the tea. Sometimes the real reason to have a functional item is to have it as decoration.

The, ah, toilet. With hose.

My grandmother had one of these, 35 years ago. Except she had a more advanced model. This is where I clean my clothes. The drier part doesn't so much spin as gently rotate. I have an iron and a second bed, on which clothes dry overnight.

My windows. Located to let light in as opposed to be looked out of, a previous tennent evidently wanted less light in the morning. Which is understandable - when you go out, take sunglasses.

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"I instantly distrust any information that everybody knows."

- Dean Burnett

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"If sexual fetishes could really be induced by simple conditioning, computer equipment would become strangely arousing."

- Dean Burnett

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Shite

This post might be a bit icky. Don't read it if you're squeamish.

It's a truism in anthropology that you can tell a lot about a culture from how it deals with human waste.

People breathe, eat, age, die, use language, tell stories, have sex, make babies, form groups, use tools, get ill, make things...and make shit. These are basic facts about what humans are, and any culture - even one that tries to deny or control these things - has to find ways to deal with them.

Death may be taboo for instance, but there need to be mechanisms in place to dispose of corpses.

Slavoj Zizek has a well known monologue about the difference between British, French and German toilets. He says the French have toilets where urine and excrement disappears straight down a dark hole, as though to give the impression that they're instantly obliterated - out of sight, out of mind. The Germans though present your turds to you on a kind of shelf, for you to inspect for signs of infection. And the British, he says, have a compromise that has your waste floating in water.

I've no idea whether this is true, but if you visit Saudi, there's a better than 50% chance that the toilet in your hotel will be...different. And basic looking. Which is to say, a hole in the floor with a cistern attached. You squat over the hole, take aim and...push.

If you want toilet paper, you'll probably have to bring it yourself. Because instead, a small hose squirting warm water is provided for you to clean yourself. And you can give yourself a shallow enema - stick in the nozzle, fill up your rectum, take aim again, and push again. Repeat several times until you're shooting clear water.

I tried it last night. On the one hand, it felt a little gross. On the other...I'm definitely cleaner inside and out than a few wipes with soft paper would give. Oh, and strong leg muscles are an advantage.

As for what this tells us about the Arab attitude to taking a dump...probably a great fear of disease and concomitant devotion to cleanliness. That's not a difficult guess, because they're a very clean people in general - all the clothes I've seen are well laundered and neat.

There's none of the German need to inspect, nor the British habit of faeces that's highly visible until you chose to pull the chain - it goes into a dark water filled hole and becomes almost invisible until you flush it further away.

Plus, this is a culture that still has one foot in the desert. Not surprising, as within living memory it was both feet. How do you expel your wastes traveling in the desert? You set aside an area near your camp for both the liquid and the solid - as opposed to keeping them separate, as you would if you were using people to fertilise their own crops - squat, scrub, and cover with sand to make it disappear.

Perhaps I'm talking a load of, erm, rubbish. It's just a new experience for me, which I'm trying to fit into a larger pattern.

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"Everyone is born naked and after that, everything is drag."

- RuPaul

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Salaam

I'm here, I'm reasonably happy, I'm rather busy, and I'm only slightly too hot.

A few first impressions.

* Every significant room has a large, noisy air conditioning unit. I suppose we have a stereotype in mild, damp England that people who live in hot countries don't notice the heat. Well, they do.

* You'll need a hat - and sunglasses.

* Tea really is better without milk.

* Your room will have some some electrical outlets with two pins, and some with three. Some will be 110 volts, and some 220. Make sure you have some sort of insulated tool for tripping the switch on the third pin while plugging a two-pin plug into the other two.

* You can cook and eat in, but eating out is cheap, plentiful, and safe. Your hotel might be a bit grotty - with damp chipped walls highlighted with the occasional cockroach - but the government imposes very strict rules on hygiene in restaurants and takeaway outlets.

* Whatever your phrasebook says, the local dialect will be significantly different. According to my book on Gulf Arabic, my tea without milk or sugar should be something like "Chai, hAlib laa, shikAr laa". Instead, I've just ordered "Shai, hAlib laa, shUker laa".

* If you want to travel more than a hundred meters, you need a car. The towns just aren't built for pedestrians. Assume everyone else on the road is an incompetent maniac. The sound of cars passing, horns blaring and tyres screeching is constant.

* The arabic reputation for hospitality is well justified, in that men will have their male children wait on you.

* Young children drink beer. No alcohol beer.

* Tap water is safe, but bottled water is cheap, colder and tastes a lot better.

* If someone's over thirty, you'll find it's not unusual for them to have fifteen or more siblings. But younger families are a lot smaller.

* Manual labour is done by Indian immigrants. Many of them speak better English, but they can't afford a tutor like me.

* All the children are schooled in rote-learned formal English grammar, and some stock words and phrases. This is odd, as the street signs and shop fronts bilingual in English and Arabic - even in a relative backwater like Arar where I am. English is the language of business, to the extent that in any major company, managerial meetings are conducted in English, even though for everyone involved it's a second language, and they have a first language in common.

* British English is seen as more respectable than American, and probably less imperialist.

I've been here only a week, so...these are just first impressions and I'm some of them aren't accurate. I've got over 30 students waiting for the school to open properly, but my first one-to-one lesson is today.

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"Ours was a love story in spite of the marriage."

- Ingrid Caven

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"Money poisons science."

- PZ Myers

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"We cannot change our face every day."

- Boris Blank

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"When a government tells you it's going to make you safe, you're going to lose your freedoms."

- Jesse Ventura

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"Moral indignation is the standard strategey for endowing the idiot with dignity."

- Marshall McLuhan

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"Whoever controls the language controls the debate."

- Darrel Dow

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Off Again

Are you supposed to cry when you leave home?

Are you supposed to cry when you're forty years old and leaving home for the forth or is it the fifth time?

What about when you can't remember the last time you cried, and the worst things in your life are having a beer belly when you don't even drink beer, writer's block and a vague fear that your only real skill is faking other skills.

Nothing dramatic, just a little welling up and a tiny bit of overflow, following an hour of that strange sadness you get when you realise you're about to leave behind something so familiar you've stopped noticing it.

There's a similar sadness that comes from sitting alone in hotel rooms that are interchangable with a million other hotel rooms. But not, I think, from sitting in unfamiliar rooms with old friends.

I don't think sadness is really the opposite of happiness. Happiness comes in moments, minutes, and occasionally hours - I was happy for four or five hours last night. When was the last time you could say that? No, I think sadness is the opposite - or maybe just the absence - of contentment.

Like the song goes, you don't know what you've got till it's gone. Contentment is a vanilla emotion, a feeling that everything's okay, and unremarkable, and unthreatening. Watching someone be happy might make you feel the same way - or annoyed. The same for watching someone cry. But watching someone be content is...boring.

Happiness may be a warm gun, but contentment is a warm bed, a bed you've got used to - even if you know it's actually a lumpy bed with a horrible lime green matress. Yes, it's familiarity again.

Which means, I suppose, that if you've lived with failure all your life, then the prospect of success might provoke a kind of sadness. File that under 'possibly cod psychology' and 'mull over later'.

So, she's leaving home - to quote another Beatles song. And although she's been wanting to leave for years...although she doesn't want to stay, she doesn't quite want to go.

Should I stay or should I....yes, well, anyway.

We're off to see the....

Off

I'm leaving tomorrow.

Yesterday I was quite pleased to find I could travel by train to Heathrow airport, terminal one, for less than GBP30. Today I'm less pleased to find I'm actually leaving from terminal four...and the train costs around GBP60. The 75 mile journey is actually cheaper in a taxi.

Yesterday I thought I'd be spending six hours on a plane. Today I learn I'll have six hours of company on the plane. Quite honestly I'd perfer to plug in to podcasts of industrial techno and ranty film reviews. But part of being nice is being outwardly grateful for unwanted acts of kindness.

Last night I made a mental list of all the things to pack. Today I engaged in three solid hours of advanced three dimensional tesselational - the activity known as 'trying to make everything fit in a suitcase that's a bit too small'.

Last night I had the most impossibly steamy late-night goodbye-sex with an old friend. Today I'm just a bit sore - and could do with more sleep.

But tomorrow...I'm leaving. On a jet plane. To spend probably-a-year but certainly-three-months teaching English to Bedouins.

Accommodation, food, TV and internet laid on. And it's no great trial to be without alcohol, pork products, or to be honest manlove. Saving as much as possible tax-free salary to...well, invest in something sensible later. That's the general vague plan. Inshallah.

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"Ghandi was so christian he was Hindu."

- Bill Maher

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"It’s one thing to keep quiet. It’s another to pretend you’re someone you’re not.”

- Boy George

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"Propaganda is almost never fun, and religious propaganda is always excruciating."

- Shawn Baker

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"All stereotypes turn out to be true."

- David Cronenberg

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"You couldn't be here without a little incest."

- Bill Bryson

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"Where there's a will there's lots of relatives."

- Ravi Zacharias

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"Faith is the excuse people give for believing something when they don't have evidence."

- Matt Dillahunty

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"You should always celebrate your successes because someone else will celebrate your failures."

- Neil Tennant

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"Never trust a traitor. Not even one you create."

- Frank Herbert

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Orange Alert

I have a juicer.

You know the kind of thing - a machine which extracts the moisture from friuts and vegetables, giving you a cup of 'healthy, fresh, vitamin-full' water...and a bowl of dry cellulose pulp to put in stews and things.


Well, I have one. And I only mention it because I just discovered it at the back of a cupboard, and I've no idea how or where I got it.

But my parents assure me, they clearly remember me going on a health-kick years ago, and purchasing a juice extracter gizmo.

So, I have just converted a large bag of carrots into a small cup of carrot juice, which is good, because a small cup is all I was able to drink.

The same carrots, baked with herbs and a little butter though, would be a pleasure to eat.


I've a feeling I had the same realisation years ago, just before I packed away and forgot about the juicer.

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"They didn't use their brains because they were too busy using their educations."

- James Randi

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