Chim-Chiminee

The last Bank Holiday today and it's all passed so quickly. Hope you had a good weekend and for those of you suffering because of the unseasonably cold, snowy winter weather, keep warm and cosy, there's more to come apparently.

For most of us in modern houses, open coal fires are a thing of the past, gas (in my case) is so convenient and clean. I can remember at my childhood home having an outhouse with two doors, with an outside loo on one side and the coal bunker on the other side had to be divided into two to cater for the different types of fuel. This was because the posh front room was coal fuelled and the back room fire in the Victorian three storey house we had would only run on coke fuel and would take ages to get going with a gas poker. Eventually, that fire was replaced with a gas fire.

Black filthy sacks of coal were delivered by a soot faced man on the back of flat back lorry which pulled down the back tenfoot.

Sacks of logs were bought from wherever we could get them from at about ten shillings or 15 shillings, (50 to 75 pence) a bag, in today's money, about half a Euro. The dog grate was cleared out in the morning and the ash scattered over the tenfoot which was a mud track, not metalled. A mixture of newspaper and kindling sticks were laid out and pieces of coal strategically placed. The paper was ignited with a match and you hoped that it would catch. Occasionally it needed a hand. A huge piece of newspaper (a broadsheet in those days) was placed over the fireplace and the draught it created was phenomenal - many is the sheet of paper that ended up disappearing up the chimney!

The fires were always great to watch and picture in the fire was a favourite pastime. Logs crackling and coal spitting meant the carpet in front of the fire had a few burn marks in it despite having a spark guard. The trouble is that they did create dust, mainly from the cleaning out in the morning.

Mr Jones was the chimney sweeper; he was also the council street lighting man. He would lay out his dust sheets all over the room, get his rods out and the one with the big brush at the end and set out on the very physical job of bringing all the soot down. It was always hard work for him, pushing a brush up three storeys and it was my job to go outside and tell him when I saw the brush poking out of the top of the chimney. We even had a cat once who sat on the ledge at the back of the fireplace up the chimney, when it wasn't lit of course, presumably because it was nice and warm.

The daytime weather isn't too bad today, clear, chilly but thawing slightly, but the road still has ice on it. Off to the tip this afternoon so I can make room in the garage to get access to the treadmill which is under several black bags of something I have to take to the council depot to recycle. I noticed that Sainsburys car park was absolutely chocker-block this morning, I don't think I'll do any shopping until tomorrow when it's hopefully quieter.

Well that's my rabbiting done for today. Here's a list of unusual words and their meanings from the past for people who like to rabbit on. Thanks to 'The Wonder of Whiffling' by Adam Jacot de Boinod.

Macrology (1586) much talk with little to say;
Clatterfart (1552) a babbler, a chatterer;
Chelp (Northern and Midlands 19th century) to chatter or speak out of turn;
Blatteroon (1645) a person who will not stop talking;
Clitherer (Galway) a woman with too much to say.

Chat soon

Ta-ra

A whiffling blog

I hope everyone is well this mid fourth week in September. Three bits of good or interesting news today, my new car will arrive at the garage tomorrow from the car maker ready for preparation and seven days free insurance starts today so they can tax it. Hopefully we can collect it early next week. I'll post a piccy of it when we get it, albeit what a boring way to occupy a spot on a blog. This is only the second new car I've had in my life and the sad thing is that the second I drive it out of the garage, it loses 15% (VAT) without even getting into second gear.

The second bit of good news for me, but not necessarily for him is that my friend Middle Aged Gapper is back from his Kenyan holiday and he has started writing about it on his entertaining blog, www.middleagedgapper.blogspot.com

The third bit of interest is a new book that arrived today from Amazon, two days before it is supposed to be published, The Wonder of Whiffling by Adam Jacot de Boinod. This a book about extraordinary words in the English language, like 'whiffling' itself, which has a number of meanings, but the ones I like are trifling or to blow or scatter with a gust of air.

I'm three quarters of the way through Dan Brown's book The Lost Symbol and is a very good read, and although I haven't finished it yet, the best one of his to date I think. I'll make the judgement when I'm finished.

We have new neighbours across the road, they moved in on Monday, but apart from a lady cleaning the insides of the windows and two cars on the drive, no sign of life to describe yet. Joan, the previous occupier, God rest her soul, was a smoker and at her great age, she smoked where she wanted to and that included inside the house. The nets are yellow but neat and clean if you know what I mean - she was a meticulous lady was Joan, a retired and widowed nurse born in Ireland but brought up in her formative years in Scotland from where she never lost her gentle but purposeful Scottish brogue.

Thanks to The Wonder of Whiffling, here is a selection of palindromes, words that read backwards the same as forwards.

no, it is opposition
Niagara, o roar again!
rats live on no evil star
nurse, I spy gypsies, run!
murder for a jar of red rum
harass sensuousness, Sarah
a man, a plan, a canal, Panama
sums are not set as a test on Erasmus
sir, I demand - I am a maid named Iris
a new order began, a more Roman age bred Rowena

Chat soon

Ta-ra