I'm still here

Good times and bum times, I’ve seen them all and, my dear, I’m still here. Plush velvet sometimes, Sometimes just pretzels and beer, But I’m here. I’ve stuffed the dailies In my shoes. Strummed ukuleles, Sung the blues, Seen all my dreams disappear, But I’m here.

Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim

Well quelle surprise, the ‘Jet-Set Hobo’ is still here blogging away when just a few weeks ago we all thought this whole enterprise would be shut down and moved on. Like a gypsy caravan in cyberspace.

Doodling with Hans Christian Andersen

This from the Guardian: “Google celebrates the 205th anniversary of the Danish author Hans Christian Andersen’s birth with a series of images telling the story of Thumbelina.”

This from the Jet-Set Hobo: “Quite apart from anything else, judging from his portrait the man clearly knew how to tie a cravat.”

"London, that great cesspool…

Image via Wikipedia

…into which all the great loungers of the empire are irresistably drained.”

Or so wrote Arthur Conan Doyle, who of course was the author of the Sherlock Holmes stories. 100 years later, and that assertion is as true now as it was then.

Well, I’m certainly a lounger, and I’ve been irresistably drained here, and as I look about me, I’m sorely tempted to stay a while.  If I can make it viable. Well, I’ve spent five years living in London already, and arriving this Thursday afternoon was like slipping into a comfortable pair of shoes. Sensible, sturdy brogues perhaps.

But what happens to this column if I decide to stay, or rather that circumstances dictate that such a conspectus is feasible? Can a self-hating New Zealander with decidedly Anglophile tendencies be of any use demystifying the manners, mores and argot of British life, for a predominantly American readership? Which is to say, a populus that seems to think that the British are a race of people who sit around drinking cups of tea with their pinkies up, and speaking either like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins or Dustin Hoffman in that dreadful Speilberg movie about Peter Pan.

Can I contribue anything useful to the conversation? Answers on this blog, or on a saucy seaside postcard please.

This decade ain't over until I say so…

The author, during the dark ages

And I don’t believe it’s just me. The noughties aren’t over, and the teens don’t really begin until 2011. It’s a simple matter of the most rudimentary addition. Nine years do not a decade make. You need a full set of ten for that. Yet journalists everywhere, even some of the generally cool heads at True Slant, are making lists of the best and worst of the decade, and heaving collective sighs of relief that the most troubled decade since the 1940s is drawing to an end. The same thing happened ten years ago when 1999 turned into 2000. We partied like it was 1999.

Was it just because the artist formerly known as a symbol told us we should? A decade ago in 1999, New Year’s Eve found me roaring drunk in an Irish pub in Krakow, Poland. Ever the stickler however, I wasn’t celebrating the millennium, because there was no millennium yet to celebrate. (I had a damned good time anyway).

No folks, my personal millennium celebration didn’t come until the following year, which I spent in the town formerly known as New Amsterdam. Regards this decade, I have mixed feelings. Geopolitically, America has probably had the worst president on record, committing the US armed forces and untold billions to the greatest military blunder since Napoleon marched on Moscow: Greater even.

The best ever words in the English language?

Deipnosophists, stridewallops and shot-clogs have all been celebrated in a book that chronicles the most extraordinary words in the English language. By Harry Wallop, Consumer Affairs Editor

Some are lost words redisovered, others are gems from local dialects, but all are intriguing examples of how English continues to be the most quirky language in the world.They have been assembled by Adam Jacot de Boinod, the author of Toujours Tingo, the successful book which collected words and phrases from around the world. His latest book is The Wonder of Whiffling.

via Are these the best ever words in the English language? – Telegraph.

The Torygraph writer encourages readers to send in their favourite obscure words, and old favourites like ‘defenestrate‘ quickly come up. (To throw oneself out a window). There’s even a mention of callipygous, which means having beautifully shaped buttocks.

To use a few more in context. Although I recently cagged (made a vow not to drink for a while) because I don’t want to fornale (spend money before I’ve earned it) that resolution is very flimsy, especially when I run into a shot clog (a drinker tolerated because he picks up the bill).  This is more often than with some, as it is generally agreed that the Jet-Set Hobo is something of a deopnosophist (one who is good company at table). Perhaps I’ve become rather too good at this, as I’m in danger of becoming crambazzled (prematurely losing my looks to the demon drink).

And if I carry on like that, how will ever expect to attract a gal who is frankly, callipygous?