Confederacy of a Dunce - Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Warning: this entry contains explicit descriptions of property-buying arrangements. Readers of a non-middle-aged persuasion should perhaps look elsewhere for the time being, or risk being bored stiff.

The past couple of months have been a very stressful time in Dunce-land as we come closer... and closer... and closer... and closer to actually purchasing a flat. Back at the beginning of December it seemed like things were ready to work out. We had received the results of a building survey which revealed nothing particularly problematic as far as we were concerned, but just minor problems we were already aware of (like a door frame that needs to be replaced, decorative elements somewhat less than currently stylish, the attic is perhaps not all that nice, and so on). The survey also pointed out a number of points, apparently very ordinary in nature, that needed to be dealt with by the solicitors for both parties (things like searches of deeds and records, any history of damage, whether the seller has any guarantees on anything that will pass to us, service contracts, blah blah blah-de-blah-de-blah). We asked our solicitors to check on these things, and then we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more. A bit before Christmas we got a festive call from the estate agent, asking us what was going on as the other parties involved were beginning to get a bit antsy. They wanted to complete the deal early in January, he said. We replied that this would be fine with us; our solicitors had requested some apparently-routine information and things would no doubt be moving along soon. Of course, our solicitor's office was closed for the Christmas period by then, so our email enquiry was not answered until the New Year. It seems that the seller's solicitor had not yet deigned to reply. Allegedly, of course. Our solicitors promised to chase them by letter and phone in the hope of sorting things out. Did I mention we bought an expensive sofabed just after Christmas, to be delivered in 4-6 weeks. No problem, we thought, we can just have it delivered to the new place.

Conversations with the estate agent continued regularly, and gained further urgency, because the current owner of the property we are purchasing is also buying a place. The sellers of said place appear to be the antsy ones, threatening to pull out of the deal entirely unless things move along soon. It also started to become clear that the seller's solicitor was (allegedly) a difficult character indeed, according to both the estate agent and our solicitor. He's apparently quite keen to avoid telephone calls, and when finally reached is especially free with vulgarities and insults directed at anyone who is trying to make his life miserable. At one point he apparently stated that he was no longer willing to correspond with our solicitors, accused by him of "talking in riddles", and repeatedly asking all sorts of stupid, pointless questions (those questions that were portrayed as "ordinary" by our surveyor) but also being condescending and rude, when they tried to clarify the confusion.

In the meantime, the level of antsiness had reached an all-time high, with the unknown sellers finally deciding they'd had enough. Either we'd all exchange contracts on 30-January (observant readers will note that this is today's date), or they'd pull out of the whole thing and leave us all to start over again (or so said the estate agent, who, it should be noted, has a very significant interest in having the whole transaction completed ASAP). Fortunately (?) for us, at least some conversation continued between the solicitors, so last week we finally received a large packet of information from our solicitor (containing the contract, payment details, all sorts of details about the property, and a bit of correspondence between the solicitors, further suggesting that the characterization of the seller's solicitors as "difficult" was neither inaccurate nor unfair). Some of this was a pleasant surprise, such as learning that the seller planned to leave some items behind (like a refrigerator, for example, which we thought for sure we'd need to buy ourselves). But we were also informed that one of the longest-running sticking points was still sticking.

The flat we are buying is on the first floor (second floor as they say in the USA), but has access to the rear garden (yard as they say in the USA) via a set of stairs. The lease, however, says nothing about these stairs (which actually appear to encroach upon the downstairs neighbors' garden). Our solicitors quite rightly inquired about the status of these stairs: whether the current resident used them for any purpose and whether we would require access rights to them. This was apparently a riddle worthy of the Sphinx; the seller's solicitor replied that "like most people, the current occupant accesses her flat by the front door". And on, and on, and more on. But apparently the end of the saga of the stairs is in sight; Mrs. Dunce spoke to the estate agent again this morning, and there appears to be a meeting point between a two-sentence clause and a six-sentence clause of a somewhat incoherent nature (three guesses whose is whose). Anyway, having been assured that things would be put in order, yesterday we made some major steps.

Our first stop was the bank, where our bulging bank account was instantly deflated as we zapped every last penny (or so it seemed, anyway) to the solicitors' account. Our second stop was the post office to rush the signed contract to the solicitor. I really shouldn't mention the third stop which was a lunchtime drink at the nearby bowling alley (I should note that lunchtime drinking is a totally extraordinary activity for both of the Dunces, although there were a number of lunchtime revellers also present, for whom this might be a more regular event). And oh yeah, one of the additional requirements of the whole thing, of which we had remained blissfully unaware until receiving the information packet a few days back, was that we were required to insure the property from the moment at which we exchanged contracts (perhaps this very moment). So we had one additional scramble to get insurance in place on short notice. It's not easy, especially when you don't actually have complete information on the property (do all the doors and accessible windows have British standard locks? Heck if we know. And so on). We still managed to do some quick comparison shopping, answered questions carefully (if we didn't know the answer, we chose the less secure option so that the insurance would remain valid if something happened before we figured things out). So our yet-to-be-purchased property is now insured by us.

So it appears that contracts will indeed be exchanged today, although the completion date (i.e., when we get the keys) remains to be decided as far as I know. Then we'll begin all the fun of moving, installing shelves and shower, decorating, and figuring out all the quirks of the new place (never mind the challenge of keeping the cat indoors for a certain period, so she won't work her way back to the old home place a la Poco). Did I mention it's all been a bit overwhelming? And I didn't even mention the phone call on Saturday from the freeholder, who wants to sell it to us, really soon, at a very fair price of £7.5K (No I am not being sarcastic; this does actually appear to be a fair price). If only we hadn't spent all our money on the place itself....

All that said, I think we'll wait until we have the keys before planning a housewarming bash.

consume

Tuesday, January 30, 2007 2:22:43 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)

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Friday, January 26, 2007

This year's first snow

Most of this winter has been unseasonably warm, so there was actually some joy in the Dunce house when the temperatures finally dropped to "real winter" temperatures near or even slightly-below freezing. Perhaps it's because both of us spent many years in the midwest, where Winter actually means something serious (I recall various playground discussions about just how long it takes a person to die at temperatures of X below zero; at what temperature the cool kids will start wearing knit caps; how some kid's brother knows this guy whose friend's private parts got stuck to a metal fence and then an ambulance had to come and they chopped it off and left the aforementioned bits frozen to the fence and a dog came along and ate them so he had to have a sex change and then transfer to another school.... but I digress). One of the best things about winter is, of course, SNOW. Quite rare in these parts these days, which makes the possibility of snowfall even more exciting.

Over the past few years, we've developed a regular competition (which will come as no surprise to any members of our families, I'm sure): the first person to see falling snow each winter is the winner, and receives a prize from the other (as with most Dunce competitions, it's a food-related prize). Exact details are agreed upon sometime in autumn when temperatures start dropping towards "wintry" [in London terms, anyway]). A few simple rules govern this competition, mainly in order to avoid questionable/unfair instances of snow-spotting (Dunces are quite fond of loopholes of various kinds). For example, snowfall must be viewed from the ground, or from a building (flurries viewed only from an airplane are not permissible, unless the airplane is on the ground). Any Dunces traveling separately to other locations (i.e., outside of London) may only win the snow competition if their locations are agreed (in advance) to be reasonably comparable with respect to the likelihood of snowfall. Dunces traveling together to a location outside London must agree whether said location qualifies for inclusion in the snow-spotting competition (most places in southern England, probably YES. Places where snow would be a total fluke, probably YES in the event someone sees such a rare event). Places where snow is possible, likely, or already on the ground, almost certainly NO. Of course a separate competition in such circumstances is always possible). If Dunces are away when the first actual snowfall on London occurs, the competition continues (as the winner is the first person to see falling snow, NOT the first person to see the first falling snow). Snow must also be viewed in person, or through a window (a formal definition of "window" has not been made, but I can assure you that televisions, computers, snow globes, paintings, photographs do not qualify as windows for the purpose of the competition). Precipitation must be agreed by competitors as "snow" in order to qualify (it is well-known that mist, sleet, hail and ice may closely resemble snow: in the event of a claim of "first snow sighting", the loser must agree that, indeed, snow has been sighted. Sore losers and difficult parties may be smacked, and will certainly find the situation more difficult next year if they persist). The sighting of the first snowfall must be announced as soon as reasonably possible, by various means as the situation permits (a proud announcement in person being preferred [if it occurs in the middle of the night, it appears permissible to wake up your fellow competitor, although gloating may be a bit much], but announcement by telephone, text message, email or other means is also acceptable. Falsifying this information [e.g. by changing the time on one's computer to send an email with an earlier time/date] is a serious offense and will be punished by torture and/or death). There are probably a few other rules I haven't touched on, but these provide the simple groundwork.

Anyway, this year's first snow happened this week, right on schedule according to the weather reports: it started falling sometime very early Wednesday morning, and by the time we both got up, an inch or so had fallen already, and a bit more was still on the way down. We were both quite aware that snow was expected, and had both been on a high level of readiness for a few days. But when it comes to morning hours, well perhaps the most charitable way to put it is that Dunces' mental processes slow to a crawl. And the penny didn't drop until we heard the morning weather report on the radio which mentioned winter storms throughout the UK affecting people's morning commutes, and even a specific mention of snow falling on London RIGHT THIS MINUTE. I may have jumped out of bed a little bit faster, but was slowed down because I had to grab my glasses first. We pulled aside the blinds, saw the snow, and shouted "SNOW" at exactly the same time (perhaps high-tech finish-line equipment would have recorded a difference [most likely in my favor]), so this year's competition was a dead heat. As we had no provisions for tie-breaking, this year there are only losers.

I was so miserable at this outcome that I didn't even go to work. Just stayed home moping all day. And I'm still there now, waiting to die. Or, truth be known, I worked at home and waited for our new sofa to be delivered. It was delivered; it's quite nice, and life as we know it continued just fine. But that's hardly an appropriate epilogue.

Friday, January 26, 2007 12:18:01 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)

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Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Another dodgy clothing collection

Yet another dodgy clothing collection flyer has been slipped through our door (the same format and paper stock as all the ones I've mentioned before), but this time with a new, especially vile gimmick: breast cancer prevention. Here's some of the text included on the flyer (with a background of roses, of course):

DO NOT DELAY!
For yourself and for those who love you.

Project DO NOT DELAY! was founded to educate women who pursue a healthy way of living and won't allow their lives to be ruined by cancer. Breast cancer effects every 9th woman in Europe. So far, so good (barring the minor departures from grammaticality). I'll skip the details about leaving donated clothing in a bag, etc. and get to the important stuff, the explanatory text at the bottom:

Do Not Delay is an important project that provides information and screenings for women in Lithuania to help prevent Breast Cancer. More information about a project visit our website www.donotdelay.org or write Email info@donotdelay.org.
Our authorized stock collector is Intersecond LTD, Company No 5713257.
13/14 New Bond Street, London W1S 3SX. Tel: 07983 018041.

Very detailed information: they even have a website, registered company number and a postal address on New Bond Street. But there are quite a few alarm bells, starting with the telephone number they provide. Numbers beginning with 079 are mobile phone numbers, and I've yet to come across a real charity that uses a mobile phone number as their first point of contact. They also claim to be a charity but only provide a company registration number (NOT the same as a charity registration). The rules are not different for international charities; they must still be registered in the UK to collect in the UK. The company listed as the "authorized stock collector" does appear to be a real company (registered in the UK and currently active according to Companies House), in the business of import and export of second-hand clothing. Their website (intersecond.com) contains minimal information and is indeed registered in Lithuania.

The "charity" itself also has a website, donotdelay.org (registered in Lithuania). But this website is just a redirect to a site at nedelsk.lt which has a long bit of text about breast cancer (and bank information in case you're moved to donate). Nedelsk.lt is a curious site indeed, first have a look at the URL you reach from donotdelay.org:
http://www.nedelsk.lt/index.php?set_lang_id=en&show_content_id=573
You might wonder what content appears in sites other than number 573. Strangely, seems to be nothing, except for an odd set of forums (in Lithuanian so it's hard to know what's in them). Oddly, the main page at nedelsk.lt contains a language-selection link "LT/EN" (the English one shoots you straight to 573 only). This seems very, very sneaky to me. But even if this IS a real charity (and it might well be) there is absolutely no way to know whether these flyers are actually linked to them in any way. I did send an email to the address provided, but I'd be shocked and surprised to receive any kind of response.

Of course I haven't been the first one to spot this flyer as questionable, check out this post which gives a very good explanation, and even a look at the collection process in action. That post has a number of interesting comments, one of which suggests that a number of "DO NOT DELAY!" people were arrested for stealing charitable donations (I have not been able to substantiate this claim).

All this suggests once again that a dodgy clothing collection company (of a non charitable nature) has come across a very inexpensive way to collect second-hand clothing to sell on, tricking people into thinking they are donating to a charitable cause when in fact they are just providing merchandise to be sold for profit. They also play upon people's natural laziness; why make the effort to donate to a known charity when "some other charity" is willing to come right to your door to collect the goods.

ADDED 26-JAN: On the morning designated for pickups by "donotdelay.org", we were surprised to receive a new set of flyers (same format, style, paper stock), this time purporting to be from "Orellana LTD" (a dodgy clothing collection company I've previously blogged about: LINKY, or just google "Orellana LTD" to see numerous other discussions of their questionable nature). Same scam, different name.

consume

Wednesday, January 24, 2007 12:14:02 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)

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Monday, January 15, 2007

Signing in the workplace

My current post is at a newly-established research centre investigating various aspects of language and deafness. Non-signing staff are (very strongly) encouraged to learn BSL and use it regularly, not only to gain familiarity with the language they're researching, and to allow them to converse with participants in their sign language experiments, but also, especially, to provide a more inclusive atmosphere for deaf members of staff (it's great to have intepreters around, but impossible for interpreters to cover every conversation). Of course this includes everyday topics of idle conversation (Celebrity Big Brother, yesterday's darts championship and just why in hell I'd waste my time watching it, weekend/holiday activities, and so on) and ordinary day-to-day practical work-related stuff (what's wrong with the printer, when is everyone free for the next meeting, does anyone have a contact in research administration who can explain the new budget system, would people please remember to flush, and so on). But it also includes discussion of research topics, usually extremely specific and complicated (e.g. a recent discussion about the architecture of the language system, which led us to attempt to find a set of BSL signs that move vertically, but for which the vertical movement does or does not refer to actual vertical movement [contrast LIGHTNING {depicting motion of lightning striking downward} with HOUSE {moving downward to outline a typical house}]. And what kind of movement might be implied in those signs' English translations, and how close those translations might be, and the pluses and minuses of different ways we might conduct some experiments, and how the results might be interpreted, and so on).

I've been using BSL quite a lot lately (after a bit of a slump over the Christmas break, where I didn't see any signers for a couple of weeks), and feel like I'm able to get by fairly well on a lot of topics, at least when I'm conversing one-on-one with someone whose signing is familiar (I used to have a lot of trouble understanding left-handed BSL [mirror image of right-handed BSL], but that's not a problem any more as my most frequent conversational partner is left-handed). One-on-one conversations are still far easier as the signals of non-comprehension are easier to spot (and it's less intrusive to sign something like REPEAT/AGAIN [+facial expression something like "sorry, I'm totally lost"]); this is not specific to sign language, though. I'm also getting quite good at comprehending fingerspelling, although I still can't usually manage to work out full-speed native signing (it doesn't take many REPEAT/AGAIN signals before a signer will slow down on his/her own).

Most of my problems with BSL comprehension now seem to be related to individual signs, rather than just totally missing everything. For example, one morning last week a colleague signed something like this: I STAND BUS, DOOR OPEN. I SEE YOU, SAY-HI, YOU TURN-AROUND-GO-AWAY, MANY-PEOPLE BEHIND-YOU CROWD BUS (the gloss roughly indicates what he signed, and is almost certainly not correct. In English he might have said something like "I was standing on the bus, when the doors opened I saw you standing outside. But you stepped aside without noticing, and a bunch of other people got on". [I hate getting onto a crowded bus where I have to stand; I'd rather wait for the next bus where I might get a seat on the upper deck]). But I completely failed to comprehend the sign BUS, so I missed the entire context of the event in which I must have blanked him (to blank: look right at someone you know but not acknowledge their presence. Quite common in Dunce life as I often fail to recognize people I've met before. In contrast to Mrs. Dunce who has a steel-trap mind when it comes to faces). Or sometimes my comprehension errors are based on simple misinterpretation of a sign: like when my colleague signed G-G WORK AT-HOME? (Meaning "Is G. working at home today?" The sign glossed as "G-G" is two instances of the fingerspelled letter "G", a common way to refer to a person who does not have a name-sign. In this case, the first initial of my boss). I misunderstood "G-G" as the sign UMBRELLA (the two signs have quite similar handshapes and locations, and the motion of the hands is fairly similar). After all, it was raining, and I was rather wet. So I thought he was asking whether I came to work but left my umbrella at home. Plus, I usually use a different sign to refer to her ("G-V"), often accompanied by a pointing pronoun (I produce "G-V" then point toward her office). It was especially frustrating because he was also mouthing "umbrella" while producing the sign (English mouth patterns are often produced along with certain signs). But I'm really terrible at speechreading (and the mouth patterns were very similar in any case), so this didn't help me one iota.

In producing signs, I've also made quite a bit of a change over the past few months. Before, if I wasn't sure of a sign, I'd replace it with the fingerspelled English word. Sometimes this would lead a signer to prompt me with the correct BSL sign, but often they'd just let it slide in the interest of communication (they understood me, so why interrupt to correct me). But as my vocabulary has grown, I've become more confident in guessing at the correct sign, even if I'm not sure. And I (mostly) tend to get at least something right (maybe the right handshape, doing the right sort of motion, but in the wrong place). And it seems like these kinds of errors are more often corrected immediately (or else not comprehended, in which case I have to spell an English word, and more often than not a signer will show me the correct sign). I've also started focusing more on trying to produce grammatically correct BSL, and here's where I still have a lot of trouble. Especially because so often an ungrammatical sentence can be understood just fine--especially by signers who are expecting a particular kind of ungrammaticality based on English. We do have a weekly BSL class (for staff and students at the research centre) but only certain aspects of BSL grammar (e.g. pointing pronouns, reference to space and locations, word order for questions, some classifier constructions), have been addressed in detail (for example, it's been drilled into us that questions like "Where do you work?" should be signed with the "question word" last: YOU WORK WHERE [facial expression indicating that this is a question, rather than YOU WORK SOMEWHERE]). I'm quite certain that I make numerous grammatical errors in BSL; I just don't know what most of them are yet. Except for one type, related to the insidious effects of English....

As I mentioned before, many BSL signs are accompanied by mouth-patterns based on the English words. Often this is to disambiguate between homonymous signs (ALLIGATOR and CROCODILE are signed the same, but with different mouth patterns). This is not always the case, though; there are many cases where English mouth-patterns are not correct. For example, there are some signs which have obligatory mouth patterns that are not related to English words. For example, NEAR (index fingers extended, in contact with each other with palms back, located in front of the chest; right index finger makes a very short "hop"-type motion forward [see what I mean about the difficulty of describing a sign using words?!]) is accompanied by pursed lips, while FAR (same starting position; right index finger makes a long forward arc) is accompanied by puffed cheeks and exhaled breath. Mouthing English "near" or "far" in these cases is just plain wrong, but it seems very hard to resist. It's even harder for pointing pronouns ("I", "you", "they") and so on which don't have any associated mouth movements. I just about always find myself mouthing the English pronouns in these cases. And all sorts of other parts of English sentences which are not needed in BSL: I might sign I ASK G-G IF TOMORROW EVENING SHE GO PUB (possibly grammatically incorrect) but simultaneously mouth, in English "I'll ask G if tomorrow evening she's gonna go to the pub." Or even worse, describing objects or actions in detail. Like for example (from our BSL class), describing what an office window looks like. You'd start with a generic sign WINDOW, then sign forms depicting the arrangement and shape of panes, the window frame, etc (the order probably depends on certain things I'm not yet aware of). But while producing these kinds of descriptions, my mouth is running a mile a minute: "Window, it's got 4 panes, top panes round top, flat around. bottom panes square, frame all around. Opens up [as in, lower panes slide up to open it]. Outside little balcony, square, this wide." All of my English mouth patterns are synchronized with a particular sign (e.g. the "4 panes" occurs along with a handshape moving to depict a 2x2 layout of panes). I know this running commentary in English isn't correct, but it's really hard to resist.

language

Monday, January 15, 2007 2:13:49 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)

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Friday, January 12, 2007

double eight, double zero

It's time once again for one of my regular visits to the differences between UK and US English. For a while I was thinking about being disheartened, after paying a number of visits to the amazing blog separated by a common language ("Observations on British and American English by an American linguist in the UK"). After all, she writes nicely coherent posts, all focused on the topic of interesting UK/US English differences, while I only occasionally visit the topic, and tend to ramble off the topic at the drop of the hat (or at the sight of something shiny). Anyway, today's topic is related to numbers.

I've always been interested in numbers, obsessively so. As an introverted, socially inept youngster I spent quite a lot of time counting (sometimes counting cars, or steps, or names in a telephone book, or sometimes not counting anything but just counting subvocally to see how far I could get [some of these activities continue to the present day]) and organizing things by fours (a special number, you know [please disregard any suggestions to the contrary]). And my memory is still full of numbers I don't need to remember any more (phone numbers all the way back, locker combinations, six-digit product identification codes from a job I left more than 10 years ago, and on and on and on and on). So it's very strange when a simple difference between US and UK English causes me real trouble with numbers. And I'm not talking about the fairly well-known "billion problem". No, this is much simpler: British speakers, when reciting a sequence of digits like telephone numbers, account numbers and so on (I don't know whether it also happens when people are listing post-decimal digits for some reason, but I bet it does), are quite prone to use the word "double" instead of repeating a digit (and less often, to use the word "treble" [triple] when three digits are all the same). As in the examples on this "Telephoning in English" site. At least to me, this seems very uncommon in US English (when reciting a string of digits, anyway). For some reason, I'm thrown for a loop whenever this happens. And not just when I'm trying to hold a number just long enough to write it down, but even when I'm writing digits as I hear them. I have to direct some attention toward converting "double eight" into two eights, which disrupts my attention/memory just enough that I'm sure to miss out on (or just "miss out" in UK English, I think) one of the following digits.

I should note that this doesn't always happen. 999 (UK version of 911) is pronounced "nine nine nine", and telephone numbers beginning with 0800 are "oh-eight-hundred".

language

Friday, January 12, 2007 5:38:38 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)

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Wednesday, January 03, 2007

A beard of burnt up black

Q Who had a beard of burnt up black?
A Blackbeard.

I've spent most of the holiday break away from the computer, so it's been a while since I've posted anything. So imagine my surprise when I checked my access logs and found zillions of referrals from internet searches for beards. Not only beards but specifically, those of burnt up black. I immediately discarded the possibility that the bear community had launched some sort of major Christmas publicity effort, and followed the referrals to their target. Actually, the beard in question is mentioned only in this entry, referring to a particular literary work. To which I refer obliquely at the moment for reasons that will become clear in a bit.

So where did all these references to this literary work come from? I googled the phrase myself, and quickly found the answer. It's a question in this year's King William's College Quiz (PDF link from King William's College site; html link from the Guardian). Quizzes like these are quite a British tradition (and Mannish as well, if that's not covered by the term "British"); this time of year it's nearly impossible to get through a newspaper without a year-in-review quiz of some sort, never mind all the pub quizzes out there. But it seems the gentle art of quizzery has suffered a serious blow thanks to the readily available mountain of information out there (here!) these days. I've been quite a fan of trivia in my day, and have a great appreciation for those who are able to retain vast amounts of inconsequential information (myself included to a limited extent, much more limited when it comes to British pop culture predating my arrival here [though I have made up ground when it comes to pop culture of the 21st century]). But now answering quiz-type questions is very different. Answering a question like the one above now requires little more than typing it into your friendly search engine (Google, that is: referrals from Google are occurring more than 30 times as often as all other search engines combined) and seeing what comes up. Unless, of course, this particular entry appears on your search results. For Blackbeard is not the correct answer at all, but Svengali (also mentioned in KWC's 2000 quiz). Even if a question is written in a manner that prevents searching for the exact quotation, clever use of search terms (usually not the norm, if my referral logs are anything to go by) can still often get the answer quite readily. Never mind people who start compiling their own lists of answers. I was tempted to start compiling such a list, all with incorrect but acceptable-sounding answers. But then I figured that having all the wrong answers in one place might be too obvious. So I'll stick with my old friend alone: Blackbeard and his beard of burnt up black.

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Wednesday, January 03, 2007 1:36:31 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)

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Thursday, December 21, 2006

Akari

Last night the Dunces paid a visit to a new Japanese restaurant in north London, Akari (196 Essex Road). It's located in a former pub (see this amusing comment on Fancyapint), and in its previous incarnation was French restaurant Le Montmartre. Although Akari is quite new, I did find a couple of reviews (Viewlondon, Japanese guide to Essex Road). It still looks very much like a pub, full of wood tables surrounding the bar area which has been converted to an open kitchen. The menu is fairly short (even including a page of specials) but quite varied; on the other hand the drink menu is quite substantial (we stuck to Yebisu beer, a favorite from our trip to Japan which we haven't seen in London before; they also had Orion beer, in addition to more standard Japanese beers). Mrs. Dunce described it as a more accessible version of an izakaya (sort of like Camden's Asakusa in having an interesting range of very Japanese dishes, but differing by aiming to also accommodate people who are not so familiar with Japanese food); a gastro-izakaya if you like. Definitely izakaya-ish, though; other customers were working their way around the shochu/sake menu, also ordering small dishes one or two at a time.

We ordered a few dishes (all to share) which was just the right amount of food: a nice hot miso soup to start with (temperatures dropped to near freezing this week. As individuals of midwestern heritage it's rather embarrassing to admit that we were both uncomfortably cold. When it wasn't even below freezing!). Shrimp & vegetable tempura, then an excellent dish of mussels in a sake-based soup. An order of hand-rolled sushi with salmon, avocado & tempura shrimp. And the highlight of the evening: kaki fry. Fried oysters, one of Mrs. Dunce's favorite dishes. With a splash of sauce (quite reminiscent of okonomiyaki sauce) and a home-made tartar sauce on the side. These were fantastic. And we finished up with hot tea before venturing back out into the cold. The bill came to (exactly) £40 including two beers each.

We'll definitely be heading back there in the new year.

consume

Thursday, December 21, 2006 1:38:01 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)

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The original Dunce

A recent post on the Language Log discussing the relationship between grammar and ethics/morality included a digression on the etymology of the term "dunce". As I was unfamiliar with this story, and because I've adopted the name myself, but especially because "dunce" has such an interested trajectory, I thought it was definitely worth covering here (quotes shamelessly c&p'd from the Oxford English Dictionary).

The term "dunce" (n.) is broadly described like this: "[a]n application of the name of John Duns Scotus, the celebrated scholastic eologian, called ‘Doctor Subtilis’ the Subtle Doctor, who died in 1308. His works on theology, philosophy, and logic, were textbooks in the Universities, in which (as at Oxford) his followers, called Scotists, were a predominating Scholastic sect, until the 16th c., when the system was attacked with ridicule, first by the humanists, and then by the reformers, as a farrago of needless entities, and useless distinctions. The Dunsmen or Dunses, on their side, railed against the 'new learning', and the name Duns or Dunce, already synonymous with 'cavilling sophist' or 'hair-splitter', soon passed into the sense of 'dull obstinate person impervious to the new learning', and of 'blockhead incapable of learning or scholarship'."

1. The first sense of "dunce" (listed as Obsolete and appearing in examples between 1527 and 1641) is strictly linked to the individual: "The personal name Duns used attrib. 'Duns man', a disciple or follower of Duns Scotus, a Scotist, a schoolman; hence, a subtle, sophistical reasoner."

2. The second sense (also Obsolete) was used during the same period, and reference moved beyond the man himself to encompass his writings: "A copy of the works of Duns Scotus; a textbook of scholastic theology or logic embodying his teaching; a comment or gloss by or after the manner of Scotus.".

3. Next the term extended another step further to the third sense (also Obsolete, examples from 1577 and 1611), referring to followers of Duns (and also carrying the connotation of overly petty quibbling): "A disciple or adherent of Duns Scotus, a Duns man, a Scotist; a hair-splitting reasoner; a cavilling sophist."

4. And then it turns even uglier, the fourth sense listed (also Obsolete, appearing in examples from 1579-1742) has lost any positive connotations previous uses might have had: "One whose study of books has left him dull and stupid, or imparted no liberal education; a dull pedant." Such as the quote from Devil's Banquet (T.Adams, 1614), "When a man courts to be a Doctor in all Arts, hee lightly proues a dunce in many".

5. Which brings us to the modern usage which has been stripped of its bookishness (from the late 1500s onward": "One who shows no capacity for learning; a dull-witted, stupid person; a dullard, blockhead.".

This etymological trajectory is a fantastic example of a word's meaning going from one extreme to another. It also matches well with my own nature, although in my case perhaps it's more related to Thomas Dun than to John Duns Scotus (and that ain't no wikipedia link neither; a [sense #4] Dunce like me has to find a more complete and detailed entry). I have buried my nose so deeply in books, and become so consumed by ever-shrinking minutiae that it was inevitable that every last bit of intellect has been drained from me. Now I can barely follow the plot twists and turns of your average episode of America's Next Top Model (cycle 7) as I sit drooling on the couch.

language

Thursday, December 21, 2006 11:42:38 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)

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Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Clothing collection scams

Over the past few months I've been obsessively collecting and categorizing every piece of advertising that finds its way through our letterbox (ie, not addressed to us or delivered by the postal service). One surprisingly common category is the dodgy clothing collection company. I've mentioned a couple of these in previous posts (Silverwall; Island of Hope) but now have a whole slew of them. A baker's dozen, as it happens, and oddly they are all exactly the same format, though purportedly coming from a number of different companies. They're all printed on a slightly glossy, lightweight stock (size A3), and they all feature the words CLOTHING COLLECTION in large, prominent type. They all mention that donated clothing will go to poor people (about half of them refer vaguely to third world countries, and half to Eastern European countries). And they all have small print which explains that they are not in fact charitable organizations. Since they have so much in common, I wouldn't be at all surprised if they are actually coming from exactly the same people. The company details listed on the advertising sheets appear below; if you find this post searching for more info on one of these companies I'd be quite interested in your comments.

Silverwall Ltd. (2 ads) I've mentioned this company before. Their advert includes an odd picture of two small shirtless boys (presumably in the throes of poverty, but who in fact look like they're playing on the beach). They're providing people in third world countries with clothes for their families they can afford [sic]. Information on the ad includes gives a company registration number (5433460) and a mobile telephone number 07769 811992. Looking up this number on the Webcheck service at Companies House (official register of UK businesses) show that this company was incorporated in April 2005 and has current status of "Active - Proposal to Strike off".

Orellana Ltd. (2 ads). No picture, just a stylized image of clothing as a background. They too are providing people in third world countries with clothes for their families they can afford [sic]. They list registration number 5496347 and a hotmail address (orellana_support@hotmail.com). This company actually appears as "dissolved" on the Companies House website (incorporated 1 July 2005, dissolved 27 June 2006). It's somewhat strange that a dissolved company would continue to solicit products.

Europe Suppliers Ltd. (2 ads). This one has a blurry picture of a dove as the background. Unlike the previous two, they provide people in need Eastern Europe countries with affordable clothes for them and their families it provides jobs in Eastern European countries for those sorting the clothes for distribution [sic]. Another company registration number (5401427) and another hotmail address (europesupplier@hotmail.co.uk). And hey, it's another company with a status of "Active - Proposal to Strike off" (incorporated April 2003).

Ambertop Ltd. (3 ads). Two of these have background images of small children; the third has a truly bizarre image of cats, possibly photoshopped to make it look like one has an arm around the other (I'll have to scan it in when I have a moment). They provide people in need in Eastern European companies with affordable clothes for them and their families [sic]. And yet another registration number (5333502) and hotmail address (ambertop_support@hotmail.com). Hey, wait a minute, Ambertop was dissolved on 11 April 2006 (incorporated 17 January 2005). See any patterns here yet?

But what about Cotrado Ltd.? (2 ads). An image of three miserable children (perhaps taken from Depression-era stock images). This company provide people in third world countries with clothes for their families they can afford [sic]. Registration number? Check (5545502). Anonymous contact info? Check (mobile number 07792 270755). This company is just barely cold, having only been dissolved a few weeks back (incorporated 24 August 2005, dissolved 28 November 2006).

But wait, there's more! General L&A Wardship Ltd.. Decorated with clip art reminiscent of Hands Across America, this one doesn't even bother with contact information, providing only a company registration number (5477636). This one also uses a slightly different spiel: Can you spare any of your old unwanted clothes whitch will send to the third world where the garments will be carefully sorted and worn again [sic]. And hey, for once this is an active company (incorporated 10 June 2005), with a relevant business type actually listed with Companies House (Nature of Business (SIC(03)): 5116 - Agents in textiles, footwear etc.; registered at 71 EMMOTT AVENUE, ILFORD). But it still looks very questionable to me.

And finally, one that doesn't even include a company name (background image, three nerdy children sitting in someone's back garden). They provide people in third world countries with clothes for their families they can afford [sic]. And provide a company number (5482825) and anonymous email address (pajuryss@yohoo.co.uk [sic]). This company (PAJURYS LTD of Leyton) is active, but proposed to be struck off (incorporated 16 June 2005).

All in all, a healthy stack of unwanted clothing collection scam advertisements. How much unwanted clothing do they think we have?

consume

Tuesday, December 19, 2006 5:24:43 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)

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Thursday, December 14, 2006

Spammy, spammy, even more spammy

This blog has just been upgraded to a new version of dasBlog, which apparently provides some new ways to protect bloggists against spam (or "smap" if you prefer). I don't get a lot of visible spam here (comments are fairly well protected by CAPTCHA [except for one or two that seemed to have been added by hand, and were just as easily deleted by hand], trackbacks are disabled, and referrals are not made visible anywhere). But back behind the scenes, there are any number of referral spamming techniques cluttering my logs (spam blogs, dodgy links of various styles, spammy linky postings from open message boards, and so on and so on). But strangely enough, they've almost all been attracted to one particularly exciting post I made last September with the title Spammy, spammy, spammy (which just so happened to mention a few terms that often occur in spammy spams, like poker, diet pills, phentermine, cialis, jackpots, and virtual slots [uh oh, there are those terms again!]). The upgrade log revealed that this entry had received 7683 referrals (where most of my posts are in the low hundreds). So I wonder if a new entry of a similar nature might do the same, as a sort of honeypot attracting smappy interest away from the rest of my posts. If I wrote such an entry, my logs suggest that it probably shouldn't contain terms related to pharmaceuticals like viagra, prozac, zoloft, wellbutrin, thorazine if I want to keep the spam away. I sure wouldn't want spam related to insurance or banking, either, so I'd better avoid using terms like geico, aetna, insure, annuity, account. And when it comes to gambling, I really want to steer clear of slots, roulette, blackjack, poker (although I think I'm safe with three-card monte or baccarat). And I'm terribly afraid what would happen if I mentioned porn. Anyway most of those terms appear in my blacklist, so I'm sure this particular entry will remain pristine, untouched by spammy referrals, comments and so on.