In this blogposting…
* Illiterate Britain
* A Word Puzzle
* The Wonders of English
* A Sobering Thought
Make of it what you will…


I’ve peppered this posting with some more photos composed by the orthographically challenged.  I hope you like them.


Here’s an intriguing little word puzzle from Dave.  I’d be interested to know if any of you can work it out.

The question is...what do these words have in common?


The answer is NOT that they all have at least two doubled letters.  Try again…

It defeated me completely.  Which is why I am going to withhold the answer until the next blogposting (unless you know better).

Our next AGM will take place at 1100 on Wednesday 19 September at or near Grey’s Monument in Newcastle.  In other words, at one of our favoured haunts - Pret a Manger.

I’m not sure how we are going to top the Tanfield AGM but we can have a damned good try….

Despite the short notice, please try and make it.

I received this masterpiece of English composition from Kev.  Whoever wrote it deserves an honorary degree in ingenuity and word-play…

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the cloakroom attendant when I saw her standing alone in a corner.  She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array.  Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way.

I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about it since I was travelling cognito.

Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable.  Only toward and heard-of behaviour would do.

Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable.

There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as me would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim.

I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.

So I decided not to risk it.

But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make head or tail of.

I was plussed.

It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen.

Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated - as if this were something I was great shakes at - and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times.

So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.

Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous.  Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.

She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savoury character who was up to some good. 

She told me who she was.  ‘What a perfect nomer’, I said, advertently.  The conversation become more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail.

But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour.  I asked if she wanted to come with me.  To my delight, she was committal.  We left the party together and have been together ever since.  I have given her my love, and she has requited it.

Brilliant.  Absolutely brilliant.

Thanks Kev.

Back to Dave for a sobering exhortation...

Your car is German.  Your vodka is Russian.  Your pizza is Italian.  Your kebab is Turkish. Your democracy is Greek.  Your coffee is Brazilian (mine is Italian).  Your movies are American or French or Indian.  Your tea is Tamil.  Your shirt is Indian.  Your oil is Saudi Arabian.  Your electronics are Chinese.  Your numbers Arabic, your letters Latin.  And you complain that your neighbour is an immigrant?

Pull yourself together...

Post comments on this blog or email me:  truckshunters@googlemail.com


Hildie said...

I hate spelling mistakes .... I can't tell you how much they get to me ..... especially the ones I've made myself!
You know that feeling .... when you've just posted something on the blog ..... and your spelling mistake glares out at you.
My heart truly sinks when it happens to me.
The best spelling mistake I ever spotted was on a stall at Stanley market, a few years ago (when culottes were in fashion) .....
a big notice announced
"CLOTS £3.99".

Dave's puzzle .... flip the first letter of the word to the end ..... and, hey presto, you can read the same word backwards.

Looking forward, already, to

Sid said...

Clever clogs.