Vocabulary expansion

Apparently (that might just about be the most-used word in this blog) the adult human typically has a vocabulary of around 20,000 active words and 40,000 passive words. According to wordcounter.io. What a wonderful source of useless information the internet is. The former are words we use and the latter words we know but don't use. I'm amazed at that, I would have guessed at around 250 active words and 1,000 passive. Maybe I'm just dumb.

An example of a word that, for me, was passive, is Cappadocia, used in a comment on this blog yesterday by my dear friend MiceElf (get it? I didn't until it was explained to me; yep, I'm dumb). There is no doubt I knew this word; if I had to guess, I would stick a pin in a map of the world somewhere around Italy. In the middle, to get as close as possible. And I would have been hopelessly wrong; it's a region of Turkey. Check out the comments on my pigeon fancier post for useful info about Cappadocia. Now that I have used it, twice, it has become one of my active words. 20,001.

This friend also introduced me to a completely new word: eremetical. The Free Dictionary tells me it means "characterized by ascetic solitude". So now I know, and I've used it. 20,002. Although I'm pretty sure it will shift to the passive category very quickly. If I remember, I will use it when I next speak to my friend Tony; he enjoys uttering unfamiliar words and asking me "do you know what that means?" I never ever admit that I don't.

There is a regular column in the Times, I think by Ann Treneman, which occasionally concludes with "word of the week". I might even email her to see if she will include eremetical in her next column. Credit will definitely have to go to MiceElf though.

I'd probably be breaching copyright if I used some of her column, so go check it out if you are interested.

Word Counter also gives me the following useful info:

At age one, a child will recognise about 50 words

At age three, a child will recognise about 1,000 words

At age five, a child will recognise about 10,000 words (that's seems crazily many; do they count derivations, e.g. seem, seems, seemed, seeming as separate words?)

At that rate of progress, someone of my advanced age will recognise about 1,083,360 words, according to a spreadsheet which I built. So maybe not so dumb. Maybe explains why I am so verbose.

(Although I encourage readers to comment on these posts, please don't point out the obvious flaws in my reasoning - that is, unless you're dumb enough to believe it)

Any new words, in the form of comments to this post, will be very welcome. Begin!

Corbyn and May, pigeon fanciers

You heard it here! In 2018, the first parliamentary pigeon race (Lords v Commons, never expressed as Commons v Lords, of course) since 1928 took place. Theresa May sponsored (what does that actually mean in this context? Bought the pigeons their flying gear? Knitted them new coats?) 5 pigeons, the best of which came in 77th place (things still going well then, Theresa). Jeremy Corbyn's bird came 8th (more or less where his party came in the 2019 general election). Take that, wheat-runner!

Corbyn apparently once tabled a House of Commons motion calling for mankind to be wiped out by an asteroid [Ed: named Boris?] as punishment for using pigeons as flying bombs during the war (s****ing on the Germans?).

Despite promising not to, Nick Clegg's bird teamed up with May's birds and agreed a deal on charging spectators to watch, but couldn't keep up and got lost, never to be seen again.

(OK, that last sentence I made up, but the rest is true - I think)

Quiz question: do you know who said "The first thing I ever loved was a pigeon"? (Answer at the bottom of this post)

The website of the Royal Pigeon Racing Association (I know that sounds like something else I made up but truth can be, and in this case is, stranger than fiction) tells me that famous pigeon fanciers included Elvis Presley, Walt Disney, Claude Monet, Clint Eastwood, Pablo Picasso, Nicola Tesla and The Sultan of Jahore. Who knew?

Anyone know the world speed record for a racing pigeon? Nope, but Wikipedia tells me they can fly up to 125mph. Wow. A Chinese businessman broke the world record for a purchase of a pigeon at 310,000 Euros in 2013. Named Bolt (who else?) he was bred in Belgium (the bird, not the businessman). Apparently Belgian-bred pigeons are the fastest! So that's what those Belgians do all day.

The Telegraph of 30 May reported that "Pigeon racing will be the first spectator sport to return to Britain as lockdown is eased", on the basis that thousands of people on the route travelled by the 4,000 birds from Leicester to Barnsley will see them ("spectate"!) flying over their streets and houses. The race took place on 1 June; no news as to whether Corbyn's flyer has trained on.

Quiz answer: Mike Tyson

Lockdown serendipity

Music is therapeutic and the discovery of new (to me) music, and re-discovering old favourites, has been a boon during my self-isolation.

I was watching an episode of the Star Trek-lite TV show The Orville and heard the lead character playing a song whilst piloting a small spacecraft - a shuttle really. His dark matter cartographer co-pilot (who later turns out to be an undercover Krill soldier - don't ask) asked what is was and he explained it was Billy Joel. I think it was She's Always A Woman.

I really enjoyed the clip and I decided to investigate Billy Joel on Spotify. I don't recall ever having heard a Billy Joel song and it was a revelation to listen to Piano Man, such a refreshing, cheerful and foot-tapping number. It is now a staple of my listening, if I need to cheer myself up, or to stop myself worrying about viruses, the R number and how to keep safe whilst meeting a friend.

I often come across music I didn't know as a result of reading an article, hearing music in TV shows or seeing a Spotify recommendation (even in TV adverts!), and I eagerly add those I enjoy most to one of my playlists. One of my all-time favourites is the rendering of O Holy Night by Trombone Shorty (Troy Andrews playing amazing trumpet riffs) and his pals in a Christmas episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, as a post-Katrina tribute to New Orleans: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Etflv7R6NKA

This burst of musical exploration has reminded me that I have rather lapsed in listening to music. So a lot of my lockdown listening has been re-uniting myself with old favourites. They all have emotional effects which enable me to keep balanced.

The calming murmurings of the Adagietto from Mahler's 5th symphony, the sheer elation and majesty of the climax of the same composer's Resurrection symphony and Anne Hathaway's immensely moving I Dreamed A Dream from Les Miserables all offer me something which I need. John Lennon's anarchic ramblings in Imagine give me hope.

I am an emotional person and music can really affect me, often by its simplicity, but deeply powerful music such as Mahler symphonies or Wagner operas offer panoramic pictures of life itself which remind me of my own life and, even in these difficult times, how blessed I have been and how much I still have to look forward to.

I'm not spending £4.99 on wood pigeons

As readers of this blog (there's an assumption there that there exists more than one; or even more than zero) will know, I have been sharing my lockdown with a variety of attractive garden birds. Or not, because all the charming little robins, sparrows, tits and finches are consistently bullied away by a gross pair of wood pigeons, who proceed to gobble the seed which I have purchased at my (now open) local garden centre.

How do I know it's the same pigeons every time? Actually I don't but never let the facts get in the way of a good story.

I'm wondering whether there is a metaphor here for our lockdown itself; memories of all those crazies stockpiling toilet rolls as though, if the world were going to end, at least their backsides (and only theirs) would be clean. The pigeons gobble up the food then sit there - waiting - and eventually start grooming. Not grooming each other; that's what apes do and there are, at the moment, none of those on my bird table. If that generous Mr G is going to keep supplying delicious food, we are going to keep eating it. And if we are full (they actually look very full), we will sit here so that no little birds can share our goldmine; we'll just stockpile.

This is a tale of greed, arrogance and sociopathic behaviour. The little guys don't get a look in; we are most definitely not all in this together (ask Emily Maitlis).

It's not that I can't afford the £4.99 for the bag of seed. I have all that cash saved from not going to the coffee shop, café, pub and cinema. And a bundle of actual cash, unused for months. I have tried all kinds of seeds and nuts (no fat balls - that's disgusting; I can't feed the birds anything I wouldn't feed my grandkids); doesn't make any difference, the bullies scoff the lot.

So finally I am going to get one of those hanging thingies with net coverings. The tits will love it; the rest, especially the wood pigeons, can go starve!

Only 15 days to go...

...until the footie season re-starts. At least the Premier League (the Germans started  10 days ago but then they always get to the beach first).

There are 92 matches still to be played and all of them will be on some TV channel or other (thank you Sky, for my Sky Sports refund - which I didn't get - now you're going to allow the hoi polloi to see for free matches which I have paid for? Seriously?).

Two catch-up matches will be played at 6pm and 8pm on Wednesday 17 June. Thereafter the schedule will be:

Fridays: 20:00

Saturdays: 12:30, 15:00, 17:30 and 20:00

Sundays: 12:00, 14:00, 16:30 and 19:00

Mondays: 20:00

Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays: 18:00 and 20:00

So no footie-free days until 25 July! How cool is that? Get the beers in.

The Camel Trail

I walked the Camel Trail today.

Obviously not all 17 miles of it; I'm a novice walker.

It's a very peaceful, tranquil trail. Given the 4ft 8½in gauge of the old London and South West Railway, whose track it follows, it's easy to see that the width of the trail, at around 2 metres, is perfect for you-know-what.

There are tantalising glimpses of the River Camel through the trees:

Later on, after Wadebridge, the trail is a riverside walk all the way to Padstow.

There's a reminder of the railway days:

(in case you can't see it, that's a platform. Grogley Halt)

And a throwback to pre-war industrial infrastructure:

(I always liked pylons - didn't someone write a poem about them? Spender?)

I reached a point where a bridge allows me to cross the river. Oh, no it doesn't.

Surely there must be a café, Ah, here we are.

Nope, also closed. Guys, could you just open to sell a weary traveller an ice cream? Silence. Maybe Wednesday, when  they are allowed to re-open?

More thirst-inducing temptation:

I'll definitely be back there at some point.

There is a lot to be said for this walk. I was amazed how few people were there. Plenty of cyclists, even one very docile horse and rider. It's mostly gravel and, for me, the best thing about it is - it's flat! No hills, not even a tiny incline.

There are only two things missing from this walk:

1. A pub

2. Another pub (it was a baking hot day!)

I managed just under 2½ miles each way. That's a long walk for me. Next week I might go to Wadebridge to walk a different stretch of the trail.