Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Asakusa
Once again I had a restaurant experience worth writing about, at Asakusa Japanese Restaurant, a place that would surely be in my list of top London restaurants (if I had such a list). After a quick drink at a pub near work1 we jumped on the bus toward Mornington Crescent. Asakusa's reviews (1, 2) all seem to reflect its shabby (or worse) decor ("cramped", "scruffy", "dilapidated surroundings", "looked like it should have been condemned") but enthusiastically recommend the food (it's even on The Economist's list of London's "best bohemian joints"). It's an izakaya-style restaurant with a wide range on the menu (and posted on the walls, but only in Japanese). After the Budvar disappointment we quickly ordered a round of dark lager (Asahi Dark) which in my opinion is far tastier than the standard range of lagers. I have absolutely no chance of remembering everything we ate, but some of the highlights were hijiki, natto, salt mackerel (still my favorite dish of all the ones I've tried there), curry potato korroke (a close second), some very nicely done shrimp tempura. I also had a really tasty serving of sake (served cold in a masu (wooden box) and accompanied by a pinch of salt). We didn't even venture onto the sushi/sashimi menu this time (although we've had excellent sushi/sashimi there on previous visits). The bill came to about £18 each (including 10% service charge). I can't complain.... except that now all I want is to go back again, the sooner the better.

1Pints of Budvar all around, thanks. Sadly it was only after our drinks had been served that Mrs. Dunce discovered that the pub had the extremely well-regarded and incredibly unavailable Budvar Dark Lager on tap. As we had to make our reservation time, we didn't manage to get a taste of the Dark (so we'll have to get back there in the very near future).
consume
Tuesday, June 14, 2005 10:26:58 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [2]  | 
 Monday, June 13, 2005
Eatin' vittles
Some dispute has arisen concerning my use of the term "vittles" in my previous entry, and a concerned writer suggested that the term should be spelled "victuals" rather than "vittles". It's an interesting question, especially because of the complicated etymological path. There is no doubt that it comes from the Latin victualia ("provisions") but its route from there is interesting. Etymology Online suggests it was spelled "vitaylle" (singular form, c1303) and came by way of Old French vitaille (which in turn came from the Latin origin). The Oxford English dictionary gives a similar story (The variant OF. and mod.F. form victuaille has been assimilated to the [Latin] original, and a similar change in spelling has been made in English, while the pronunciation still represents the forms vittel, vittle.) But the EO entry is far more specific: Spelling altered 1523 to conform with [Latin], but pronunciation remains "vittles." This seems like an incredibly (unbelievably?) precise date. What happened in 1523 to cause this change? The papacy of Clement VII perhaps? Or is the precise dating a little too precise in this case? Anyway, the spelling of this word has gone through quite a few variants; we're lucky to have only two.

OED examples include
1303 vytayle
13?? vitaile
1375 vittale
1375 witale
c1385 vitayle
1399 vetaile
1400 vitell
1417 vitaill
1472 wetyl
1480 wittall
1482 vettell
1487 Vetale
1494 wyttell
1500 vetayll
1500 wetale
1523 victuayle
1538 vytel
1548 vitail
1559 victuall
1573 vittle
1599 vittell
1627 Victual
1847 fittle (dial.)

Plural uses have been there from the beginning (early 1300s, anyway), and it's quite unclear to me when the singular went out of use (in fact, dictionary searches suggest that it hasn't). So feel free to use any of the above spellings; if anyone complains, tell them you're not so keen on following fads.

EDIT: It's also necessary for me to acknowledge that not everyone agrees with me. Spelling.org is one such case: Most teachers have no idea that the word victuals is only correct spelling of "vittles"... [sic].

Sometimes the jokes write themselves.
language
Monday, June 13, 2005 11:14:05 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [0]  | 
 Friday, June 10, 2005
Not so obligatory plurals
And with that it's another linguistic issue, raised on the pages of Sarmoung's secret diary. For those readers afraid to click the preceding link, he uses the phrase "SPECTACLE WRANGLING" to refer to individuals "trying to grab [his] glasses for comic routines" and subsequently wondered

I wasn't sure whether since the noun is "spectacles" it might not need to remain so. Trouser Wrangling? The plural just "sounded" wrong. But then "Glass Wrangling" doesn't sound too good either, although that's maybe for reasons of clarity. As for "Binocular Wrangling"...Hmm. Fortunately I don't have to deal with this sort of thing on an in-depth daily basis.

On the other hand, I do. Well, maybe I don't have to but perhaps I choose to. ... I think "spectacle wrangling" is the correct use. Look in analogy to the terminology one might use for wrangling other entities which are expressed in clear singular or plural forms, e.g. "cat wrangling" (not "cats wrangling", even if you're after a whole host of them). My intuition is that in this sort of form, "wrangling" is a noun and the terms like "spectacle", "trouser", "cat" are behaving more like adjectives to reflect a sort of habitual behavior. "Spectacle wrangling" is the act of wrangling spectacles (not "spectacle"), and you (surely!) wouldn't say "I had my spectacle wrangled". The same sort of thing seems to happen for other actions too ("spectacle breaking", "trouser peeling", "cat spotting"). In a strange sort of way the plural marker is removed when the spectacles (trousers, cats) are being acted upon and represented in a compound form, even in cases in which the singular form is never in common use.

The wikipedia entry for English plural has a brief discussion of these words (under the heading "Defective nouns"), using the technical term pluralia tantum to refer to those words for which a singular form does not exist (also including annals, billiards, measles, nuptials, thanks, tidings, vittles). An interesting distinction is between those which behave (syntactically) as a plural, vs. those which behave as singular:
My spectacles are filthy.
Billiards is a pursuit of vile men.

Although I don't have the time to go into a full investigation of the cause of this behavior (ie, why do even pluralia tantum words become singular in constructions of this sort), here's an interesting article dealing with related issues:
Why children sometimes say "mice-eater" (PDF)
and in A Linguistic Introduction to English Words (ch 5, PDF) Heidi Harley writes Note that the roots, pant-, scissor- or tong-, can occur without the plural suffix when part of a compound: pantleg, scissor factory, tong holder. This shows that the -s suffix on these words really is the regular plural marker. Within compounds, singular or plural is simply not relevant. We say lawn-mower, not *lawns-mower, even though any given lawn-mower could easily be intended to mow multiple lawns. So the existence of pantleg shows that the root pant- does exist independently of the suffix -s. The only strange thing in these cases is that the plural marking is required even when the meaning is singular.

Why does this happen? Who knows.
language
Friday, June 10, 2005 11:56:34 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [12]  | 
 Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Tip of tongue yet again
But this time it was Mrs. Dunce's turn. It was last Friday, and we'd just staggered our way out of the auditorium after a Twisted Folk show1 and ran into a familiar face. Well, familiar to Mrs. Dunce anyway: apparently he was one of the few friendly individuals at DeathCorp (Mrs. Dunce's former employer which did a Hindenburg just before Christmas 2003). Some light conversation ensued (what a great gig, time has flown by, many former DeathCorp employees are now in similar posts at DeathCorp's former client MegaDeathTech), and then we parted ways. But all was clearly not well with Mrs. Dunce who had a pained expression on her face (Perhaps it could have been the lake fish from the African Kitchen Gallery, but I think not). She couldn't remember the bloke's name, no matter what sort of mental convolutions she went through. But definitely there was some sort of partial information which wasn't quite right, she thought it might be something like "Martin", but not quite. A relatively uncommon name, but not much else was coming to mind. Although I was not experiencing the TOT myself, it was obviously a painful one as it continued through the evening (our Tube ride was full of grimaces [I mean, Mrs. Dunce was making pained faces, not that the carriage was occupied by purple advertising characters]), and it seemed quite likely that rather than going to bed at the late hour, we were soon to be poring through boxes of papers to find a DeathCorp employee list. But somehow that didn't happen, and I assumed it had passed from mind or been peacefully resolved without incident. But suddenly today there was an email, only four days later the matter was resolved.

Mrs Dunce wrote, This morning on the tube it came to me. I was near with thinking that the guy at M Ward’s name was Martin, his name is ____ Martin.

And just like that his name is back, and I doubt she'll forget it for a long time. I blame the surname which can also be used as a forename (and perhaps some repression of Mrs. Dunce's horrific DeathCorp experiences). And as usual, the partial information available in the tip-of-the-tongue state proved to be right on, just in the wrong place.

Some names have been changed because I don't want former DeathCorp employees to descend upon my blog with abusive comments, nor for the individual in question to learn that Mrs. Dunce didn't remember his name.

1The gig was fantastic, entirely thanks to M Ward who is just an incredible musician. The first act, Currituck Co. were interesting but a little too noodly at times (I'll see them again soon so I may change my mind), and Vetiver put me off. Mainly because of Devendra Banhart who just acted like a spoiled brat on stage (which is a shame because I really enjoy the music I've heard from him).
language | music
Wednesday, June 08, 2005 12:18:54 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [0]  | 
 Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Flapping Kirk
There's a new TV advert gracing our airwaves, featuring the one and only William Shatner. He's advertising Kellogg's All-Bran Flakes "Yoghurty" which appear to be simply a less-healthy version of Bran Flakes (including some yog(h)urt-covered ones). The advert seems to capitalize upon Shatner's perceived incompetence and general out-of-touch-ness, presenting a series of clips in which he fluffs his lines, stutters and stammers, and generally appears confused by the whole process (Great acting, I'm sure). I must take offense, however, with the punch line (as it were) in which Shatner is instructed to call the product "yoghurty" by an off-camera voice. He mispronounces it (saying it more like "yogurdy") and is corrected by the same voice, but mispronounces it again, showing a look of complete befuddlement. Despite my initial enthusiasm for anything ridiculing Mr. Shatner himself (although what could do more than Mr. Shatner's own work?) I have to lodge my disapproval. After all, the particular element which is being ridiculed in the "yoghurty"/"yogurdy" exchange features prominently in my own dialect of English as well (I pronounce "printer" more like "prinner"; "computer" more like "compuder", "ladder" and "latter" as near homonyms, etc.). Technically speaking this is an intervocalic flap: the conversion of /t/ (and some instances of /d/) into /ɾ/ (IPA). As a flapper myself, I am deeply offended by the notion that we flappers are speaking incorrectly. Especially when it's being used to sell breakfast cereal.
consume | language
Tuesday, June 07, 2005 3:22:41 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [0]  | 
 Monday, June 06, 2005
Lady marmalade
Where did marmalade come from? I found myself in the midst of a pitched battle between two camps, both arguing with equal vigor about the origin of the term "marmalade". Here are the two positions as near as I can reconstruct them (excising some, but not all, of the irrelevant and/or argumentative and/or simply made-up supporting statements; I should also note that not all parties to the discussion took definitive positions in this debate, and some even refused to take a stand, suggesting instead that simple research would reveal the truth):

Portuguese position: "Marmalade" is originally a Portuguese concept, and is derived from the Portuguese fruit "marmelo" ("a tasteless fruit that's kind of like a pear"). What the English call "marmalade" is not marmalade at all but is a gross and offensive misuse of the term.

English position: The Portuguese argument is ridiculous and simplistic, as marmalade is made with oranges (or other fruits like oranges), not some sort of pear, and contains the rind of such fruits. The relation between the word "marmelo" and "marmalade" is just a coincidence upon which the Portuguese have opportunistically seized (c.f. "marshmallow" which is surely not related in meaning, but by Jove it sure does sound a lot like "marmelo"). The origin of the term "marmalade" is probably French (c.f. "remoulade") or further back in a Latinate direction, "mar-" probably is in reference to the sea (Lat "mare") by which the citrus fruits would have arrived in the British Isles.

Well, the world of online information seems to have conspired against the well-reasoned arguments of the English camp. Etymology Online gives a very pro-Portuguese story, but as EO's ultimate source is the Oxford English Dictionary (I'd link, but sorry, it's subscription only), so let's go there. According to OED, Portuguese marmelada (quince marmalade, first attested 1521) comes from marmelo (quince) + -ada (OED: "the product of an action, and by extension that of any process or raw material"). Portuguese marmelo comes from post-classical Latin malomellum (quince or sweet apple), which in turn has ancient Greek origins too complicated to report here (OK, mainly just that I didn't want to deal with encoding of Greek characters!). OED also documents the spread of the term: Close medieval trading relations between England and Portugal may account for the very early borrowing of the Portuguese word in English: cf. Middle French marmeline (1541), Spanish mermelada (1570), Italian marmellata (1579), Middle French mermelade (1573), French marmelade (1602), marmelat (1605), Swedish marmelad (1578), post-classical Latin marmelatum (1588, in a French text), German Marmelade (c1600), Dutch marmelade (1599)

A further entry in the OED documents the historical change in English, and ends with a shocking revelation which will, I am sure, devastate supporters of the Portuguese argument...

Originally, a preserve consisting of a sweet, solid, quince jelly resembling chare de quince ... but with the spices replaced by flavourings of rosewater and musk or ambergris, and cut into squares for eating;
[In the 17th century] a thick, apple-based jelly containing shredded citrus peel (obsolete). Subsequently: a conserve made by boiling fruits (now usually oranges and other citrus fruits) in water to release the pectin around the seeds, then reboiling the liquid and fruit with sugar to form a consistent mass, typically containing embedded shreds of rind. Also: a preparation of similar consistency made with other ingredients, such as a sweet preserve of diced ginger in a jelly set with apple pectin, or a relish made by cooking vegetables with sugar and vinegar. Often with the name of the fruit or other dominant ingredient prefixed, as apricot, ginger, lemon, onion, orange, quince marmalade. When none is specified, orange marmalade is now usually meant.

So far, so good, but the OED continues... Since 1981, European Community regulations have restricted commercial use of the term to preserves made with citrus fruit.

Therefore, although the origin of the term may be unquestionably Portuguese, it is no longer legal for Portuguese manufacturers of the traditional product to call it "marmalade" (EC Council Directive 2001/113/EC of 20 December 2001 relating to fruit jams, jellies and marmalades and sweetened chestnut purée intended for human consumption, which I should mention has caused at least a little bit of public outcry), thus providing some solace to the English side -- even though the etymological arguments favor the Portuguese origin, sellers of this product could be prosecuted while sellers of the English sort of marmalade can walk the streets with impunity. I have been informed by a reliable source that quince jam is in fact available in the British Isles (and is not called "marmalade"), although it may not be available in every supermarket (perhaps one's best hope is the Women's Institute).

EDITED POST: Gosh, it's hard to spell "marmalade" correctly, especially since it looks like the Portuguese and many others spell it wrong (marmelade) (in addition to trying to call non-marmalade products "marmalade" or "marmelade").
language
Monday, June 06, 2005 11:25:20 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [3]  | 
 Friday, June 03, 2005
Happy slapping
This should come as no surprise to anyone in the UK who has been even slightly exposed to the media, but there apparently exists a craze among THE CRIMINALLY DERANGED YOUTH OF TODAY known as "happy slapping". It's all over the media: in short, gangs of teens will approach an unsuspecting bystander and attack them without warning. The attack is filmed on a camera phone and shared via modern telegraph technology. Today on my way to work I was witness to the seamy underworld of the happy slapper, and I thought I'd share my experience.

I boarded the bus and found a seat in the upper deck, and noticed that the rear area was clogged with feral teenagers (and/or pre-teenagers), about eight in number. They were behaving in a most unseemly fashion which truly demonstrates the failure of society to control these menaces: mostly clad in hooded sweatshirts (serving to conceal their identities and allowing them to gleefully cavort in the mob mentality) or replica football tops (glorifying acts of physical violence disguised as competitive spirit), demonstrating the most deplorable posture (slouching, sitting sideways in their seats; one of them even had his filthy shoes on the surface of his seat!), and speaking loudly using the most offensive sort of gutter slang imaginable, laden not only with filth and ungrammaticality, but also with deviations from received pronunciation so gross I cannot possibly reproduce them here. Worse yet, they appeared to have no particular destination but simply appeared to be riding the bus for idle purposes. There were no members of the constabulary in sight (else these depraved urchins would have doubtless be grasped by ears and scruffs and propelled in the direction of a suitable community service project or old people's home where their raw energy would be directed in positive means) so I (along with my fellow passengers I am sure) clenched my fists, stared at a newspaper and hoped they would disembark post-haste.

Imagine my displeasure when I heard not the sounds of disembarkation, but a loud smack followed by cries of pain. I looked toward the commotion and saw to my dismay that the youngest of them was pointing a camera-'phone towards the victim, a youth of approximately the same age, who had apparently been victimized by that very same assault known as the "happy slap". As I have become rather acclimated to English life, my response was to return to my newspaper and hope I would not be next (whilst mentally organizing the content of my letter to the editor of the Daily Mail). Indeed, after a brief pause there was more commotion and more sounds of violence; I turned and saw that another young man had been similarly assaulted, again captured on film (or whatever passes for film in this decadent age). After another pause, another assault, and then another. But these acts were beginning to follow a curious pattern -- they seemed to be limited to the social circle of youths, and each slouching menace was being assaulted in turn by his fellows!

I can only conclude that I have seen something even more depraved and disgusting than the act of "happy slapping" itself: a mobile school of urban assault in which these despicable dregs of society undergo training to become even more effective at assaulting members of the public. Society has sunk so far that the only answer is the pillory.
Friday, June 03, 2005 11:40:45 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [4]  | 
 Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Languages and directions
My closest living relative (or less-ambiguously, the relative who lives closest to me) has been learning Dutch (ok, maybe Flemish); his most recent post (EDIT: whoops, it was only a temporary link) about giving & understanding directions in another language (I think along the lines of the ambiguity of English "right" in "turn right" vs. "right there) reminded me of my own experience with directions in Dutch.

I was living in Nijmegen at the time (OK, I was living in Wijchen but nobody's heard of Wijchen) and was out for the evening with some Dutch guys. We were approached by a couple of Germans who asked directions to a hole-in-the-wall drinking establishment (one of the few places in town I was fairly confident I knew how to find). One of the Dutch guys gave the directions, and although I didn't hear exactly what he said, I was surprised how quick and simple they were (mine would have involved five or six turns, with a landmark at each turn, and doubtless would have failed in directing them to their destination), and once the Germans had set off, I asked whether there is a quicker way I wasn't aware of. As it turns out, no. "I just said 'immer geradeaus' [German: 'keep going straight'] and pointed to the river. Maybe they'll fall in and drown".

For some reason, I can never avoid being asked directions, no matter where I am (well, except Japan), and this was true of the Netherlands the moment I fell off the turnip truck, errrr, got off the plane. Fortunately once I found myself in Nijmegen/Wijchen it was pretty easy to give directions (just about everything is correctly answered by pointing down the main road toward the center of town and saying "immer geradeaus" [errr, I mean "recht door", or maybe "rechtstreeks". Or is it "rechts"?], or maybe I just pointed straight, grunted a few times and gestured "just keep going until you fall into the river and drown"). Strangely enough, that's also how you get to the British Museum from just outside my office...
language | travel
Wednesday, June 01, 2005 11:50:03 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [5]  | 
 Tuesday, May 31, 2005
More on hats
Sorry for the recent dearth of posts, the combined result of a server problem and a long weekend. In the meantime, a mysterious Web author (stalker?!) has provided graphic evidence of my personal difficulties with insufficiently-sized headwear. I am afraid I cannot rebut this photographic evidence, so I will not bother trying.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005 10:38:35 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [3]  | 
 Wednesday, May 25, 2005
One size fits all, my eye
Although I think this is one of the coolest hats I have seen in a while, I hope the buyer does not intend it as a gift for me. Although its inside dimensions are not exactly clear from the item description, I suspect very strongly that it is not suitably sized for my own hat-wearing needs. I am sorry to say I go slightly beyond the high end of your standard hat-sizing scale, and my general experience in visiting western stores (in a vague search for a cowboy hat I probably wouldn't wear anyway) has borne this out (standard inventory does not usually suit my needs). I could ordinarily blame this on an unnaturally thick crop of hair but at the moment, my hair is extremely restrained. So I guess I have to live with being a size 8 (7 7/8 in the UK; 64 cm European). But please remember, if you're thinking of buying me a hat, not just any hat will do.
consume
Wednesday, May 25, 2005 12:08:45 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [4]  | 
 Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Could do
And now we return to another linguistic issue that has been gnawing at me for ages: the obligatory UK English use of "do" in certain contexts:
For an example, see this answer by obscure British author JK Rowling in an interview with Larry King:

King: You're not going to write a book and put it away anymore?
JKR: Well, I might do.

The extra "do" always seems to catch me off-guard (although I should mention that my guard is not that impressive), and I wondered just what that "do" was doing. It's a right royal pain to try and find anything useful on Google, since punctuation isn't recognized (and when you do find a good example of the intended "might do", it's unimaginably atrocious), but fortunately more examples can be found on the (limited) Web version of the British National Corpus which yielded such examples as
Was it a game today that went how you thought it might do?
I might do yeah probably.
Complicating the story, there are numerous examples that are more like US English, We could do that.; I don't know what he might do. and the like, and "do so" is fine in both. So what is going on with the extra "do"? A bit of trawling around the Web hasn't given me any quick answers; the best I can guess is that UK English has a lot of "do"s left over from expressions like "Have you any porridge?" where US speakers would have used them up. I guess I'll keep my eyes open for better explanations

Of course, the use of modal "do" is but one of many linguistic differences that have been gnawing at me... I'll get to more of them later (the Oxford English Grammar (PDF) mentions a lot of them), but will end on the curious notion of saying. US English pronunciation of the past tense of "say" quite clearly rhymes with "fez", at least in my experience (please forgive my laziness in not using IPA to express pronunciation). But UK English seems to preserve the vowel; "says" rhymes with "ways" rather than "fez". The curious thing is that it took me several years of living in the UK to notice this. I guess because "says" is often unstressed (more important is who is saying it, or what they are saying) and thus reduced in one way or another.
language
Tuesday, May 24, 2005 2:55:06 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [3]  | 
 Friday, May 20, 2005
Meal time
I grew up in central Indiana and meals went like this in our family (or at least this is the way I thought of it):
Breakfast is eaten in the morning. It's a bowl of cereal except on some Sundays when it's pancakes, eggs, waffles or something else cooked.
Lunch is a light meal eaten at midday (except on Sundays when it's a bigger meal, cooked on the grill whenever possible). Often sandwiches (especially grilled cheese on a good day).
Supper is the main meal of the day, eaten at suppertime (5-6pm as I recall). The main dish was always accompanied by horrible, nasty vegetables.
Dinner is what pretentious rich and famous people eat in dining rooms with tablecloths, fancy glasses, expensive china and loads of different silverware. Everything is served by waiters on silver platters with rounded lids, and multiple courses are served in a specific order which is, like, totally stupid because what if you wanted to eat the cheese before your coq-au-vin? Needless to say we were not dinner eaters.

Imagine my surprise as I learned that these terms are quite different from place to place in the English-speaking world. Although there are certain logical problems with breakfast ("breakfast" is the first meal of the day, reflecting breaking the night's fast, except for those people who don't eat breakfast, but then break their fast later in the day, rendering some other meal techically "breakfast"), the term is used fairly consistently (although let's avoid the issue of brunch for now).

Next we turn to lunch. Merriam-Webster (hereafter, M-W) gives a US definition that matches my own experience quite well: "a usually light meal; especially: one taken in the middle of the day". That's simple enough, right (even given the existence of "luncheon", which M-W suggests is like lunch but more formal), but the Oxford English Dictionary (hereafter, OED) indicates that there may be complications. The identification of lunch (formerly a vulgar term for "luncheon" but now the usual term) depends upon when one takes one's dinner: "Originally, a slight repast taken between two of the ordinary meal-times, esp. between breakfast and mid-day dinner. The word retains this original application with those who use dinner as the name of the mid-day meal; with those who ‘dine’ in the evening, luncheon denotes a meal (understood to be less substantial and less ceremonious than dinner) taken usually in the early afternoon.". By this definition, only those who dine can be said to eat lunch; those (like me) who merely sup are left in the lurch.

The path definitely leads to dinner; M-W is quite definitive: "a: the principal meal of the day; b: a formal feast or banquet". So pretentious rich and famous people definitely eat dinner, and we were unknowingly eating dinner during suppertime. OED generally agrees but again causes trouble: "The chief meal of the day, eaten originally, and still by the majority of people, about the middle of the day (cf. Ger. Mittagsessen), but now, by the professional and fashionable classes, usually in the evening". This ruins everything. I would say we were among the majority of people and not among the "professional and fashionable classes" (i.e., pretentious sorts who fawn about wearing some combination of monocles, ruffs and powdered wigs), yet we ate our chief meal of the day in the evening, and called it supper.

So here we go: supper. M-W's main entry says it's "the evening meal especially when dinner is taken at midday". Again we're out of luck: no lunch (because we were not dinner-eaters), no supper either (for the same reason). Fortunately M-W gives an alternate "a light meal served late in the evening" which at least allows us to eat (although not to the extent to which we became accustomed). OED? Hooray, trust the English to solve the problem: "The last meal of the day". But the notes on this entry are a bit discouraging: "....now applied to the last substantial meal of the day when dinner is taken in the middle of the day, or to a late meal following an early evening dinner.". There go our hopes: we didn't take dinner in the middle of the day (no supper for us there), and we didn't eat an early evening dinner (so couldn't follow it with supper). But wait, down the list of entries (after "fig. and allusively: to go to supper with the devil, to go to hell"), there's another option, "Supper: (US) Tea"

So here we go with tea. I'm not so stupid to be drawn in by references to the beverage made from tea leaves, and indeed M-W gives us another definition (another eating occasion definitely not followed by us breakfast-lunch-supper sorts), "a: refreshments usually including tea with sandwiches, crackers, or cookies served in late afternoon b: a reception at which tea is served". Well, I suppose our suppertime could be considered late afternoon, but we ate a heck of a lot more than sandwiches, crackers or cookies, and we sure didn't drink any tea. But the OED clears everything up. Tea can be "an ordinary afternoon or evening meal, at which the usual beverage is tea (but sometimes cocoa, chocolate, coffee, or other substitute" (I'm not sure whether our usual beverages such as orange juice would qualify), "but locally in the U.K. (esp. northern), and in Australia and N.Z., a cooked evening meal" Hooray! We've found it! All is saved as we eat tea for supper, like the Northerners, the Aussies and the Kiwis. But what's this? "In Jamaica, the first meal of the day". But I thought that was breakfast...

I should say something about elevenses, brunch, high tea, snacks, and whether a Sunday lunch is a dinner, a lunch or a tea, but I'm hungry and have to go eat something. I'm not sure what, though.
language
Friday, May 20, 2005 1:04:36 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [5]  | 
 Wednesday, May 18, 2005
St. Ignatius
St. Ignatius
St. Ignatius Catholic Church is the nearest of these to my home, and not technically on my commute unless I head the wrong way, but I thought I'd include it anyway. St. Ignatius was founded by the Jesuits in 1894 (although the chapel was replaced in 1903 with the present building, once again rendering my selection of dates suspect) and still remains a Catholic church (and primary school) today. It is a highlight of the neighborhood (according to the surely-unbiased Jesuits, but I think that's fair given the underwhelming surroundings). Apparently St. Ignatius is also blessed with an unusual organ (stop snickering, you in the back!). They offer a mass in Spanish once a week which strikes me as unusual given my perception of the ethnic mix of the area -- where are the Spanish shops and restaurants?! The Community of Servite Sisters (St. Mary's Convent) and St. Ursula's Convent are both in the immediate vicinity and associated with St. Ignatius.

Regarding St. Ignatius school (now primary only , according to Ofsted's 2001 inspection report (PDF) things had changed markedly since the previous inspection of 1999: The school was last inspected in February 1999 and found to have serious weaknesses in a number of key areas, including teaching, leadership and management and the spiritual and cultural development of its pupils. A visit by Her Majesty's Inspectorate in March 2000 reported that the school was making satisfactory progress towards addressing the issues, although some still remained, notably in leadership and management. Since then the school has made good progress towards addressing most of the issues and is well placed to make further improvements. Good, then, that's sorted.
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Wednesday, May 18, 2005 1:38:03 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [2]  | 
China Inland Mission
China Inland Mission

Here we return to the northwest corner of Newington Green to the China Inland Mission which I am fairly confident was built in 1872. The Mission was founded in 1865, in order to evangelize the whole of China (not just coastal areas), and is still in existence today as the Overseas Missionary Fellowship (administrative history here).

The founder and leader of the Mission was James Hudson Taylor (an exhaustive/exhausting biography from the 1930s can be found here, or perhaps a more accessible and certainly briefer one here), who made a radical move, dressing in Chinese style (including a pigtail, much to the derision of the coastal missionary clique), and encouraging his missionaries to do the same. The Boxer Rebellion (errr?) caused all sorts of difficulties for the mission, and Taylor died shortly thereafter. Another brief biography of Taylor can be found on the site of the Pacific Hills Christian School (Australia), where students are divided into Houses (Taylor, Elliot, Carey, Mueller) which map neatly onto the four Houses of a slightly more famous school system.

The Mission (by then OMF) moved out of the Newington Green site in favor of Sevenoaks in 1976 (the new location was selected due to the presence of retired workers in the area, I kid you not). at which time it was acquired by the Evangelical Alliance (but who were eventually unable to handle the costs of maintenance).

The building is now student housing (along with some more recent buildings tucked behind it).
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Wednesday, May 18, 2005 11:46:01 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [0]  | 
 Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Canonbury Square
Canonbury Square
The second picture in my quiz depicts north London's Canonbury Square. More specifically, 27 Canonbury Square, where George Orwell lived from 1944-48, after his St. John's Wood home was bombed. This period is described in much detail by Orwellologist Jackie Jura at Orwell Today, and with a collection of photos (including the interior) here. Orwell, however, was not the only prominent resident of this square. Evelyn Waugh lived at #17 from 1928-30 and wrote A Handful of Dust there after being cuckolded and divorced by his wife "She-Evelyn" (and Nancy Mitford apparently rented it from him in subsequent years). Samuel Phelps, perhaps best known for his work in traditional English theatre (putting on the works of Shakespeare in the days of melodrama) lived at #8 from 1844-67; Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant also lived there, although I am not sure exactly where or when (we non-subscribers are teased by the beginning of this History Today article).

As it turns out the date I listed for the construction of this square (1800) was not correct (although I am not alone in this error). According to british-history.ac.uk (perhaps a more definitive source than Evans Baker estate agency or londontourist.org), the square was not even laid out until 1805, so the date of building should perhaps be more like 1810-15. During the Waugh/Orwell period, much of the square was rented to *shudder* local tenants, but the situation changed after the war. Again according to british-history.ac.uk, "The new owners of part of the estate from 1952, Oriel Property Trust, stopped reletting to local tenants and began to rehabilitate Canonbury Square and its neighbourhood hoping to attract middle-class tenants. By 1961 Canonbury, the first area in Islington to be gentrified, had a higher concentration of professional and managerial residents than the rest of the borough."

Today it seems that some local tenants may be able to rent after all (findaproperty currently shows this property to let: 2 bedroom flat, partly furnished, and only £440 a week). Although I didn't find any properties for sale at the moment, the last 12 sales averaged £669,625 according to nethouseprices. This average is pulled down by some "cheap" flat sales: #1a, #2, First floor flat #4, Basement flat #11, #14b, #15a, #16a all sold for less than £400,000 (obviously the ghetto side of the square), while freehold terraced houses sold for £1.25m (#5), £1.5m (#46), £1.647m (#34) (all before 2003).
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Tuesday, May 17, 2005 10:07:33 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [0]  | 
 Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Unitarian Chapel
Unitarian Chapel
Unitarian Chapel, Newington Green, London (Built 1708, enlarged 1860). According to the Local London Timeline, it was built as the "Dissenters Chapel", at a cost of £200, and "is today the oldest non-conforming place of worship in London. Newington Green has been a center of non-conformist belief since the early days of the nonconformist tradition. A brief history can be found at the Newington Green Action Group's site (more detailed timeline is at British History Online).

There is no shortage of famous names with Newington Green connections. Just a few are Daniel Defoe, Richard Price (and many American revolutionaries who visited him there), Edgar Allan Poe, Samuel Rogers, Samuel Wesley, Mary Wollstonecraft (and her daughter Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley) (and Abney Park Cemetery is full of other interesting residents). But perhaps the most famous was Henry VIII who apparently spent some time in the "Bishop's Palace" with a mistress or three.

Newington Green is the northeasternmost point on this walk (PDF format); see for a detailed timeline of the development of this area. An academic treatment of Dissent in the area can be found here.
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Tuesday, May 10, 2005 11:56:13 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [0]  |