“Having just watched the 7.30 report on gun violence in the Philippines, I was reminded of an offer made to me years ago by a Filipino,” says Paul Fergus of Croydon. “I escorted a group of Colombo Plan educational broadcasting trainees from Canberra to Melbourne. Saying farewell in Melbourne, he said: ‘Paul, when you visit our lovely country, don’t buy a gun, borrow one of mine’.”
“To round off a night out in the early 1960s, my cousin suggested we have something to eat at the Chelsea Restaurant (C8),” offers Barry Wooldridge of Harden. “She assured me the pancakes on the menu were reasonably priced. We ordered and discovered they were not the solid circle of cooked batter that we called pancakes but wafer-thin and listed as ‘crepes’. They were not liberally smeared with butter and jam but were floating in alcohol. Before we had a chance to eat them the waiter set them on fire. Very strange and, yes, expensive.”
“‘Versing’ (C8) not appropriate?” questions Helen Lewin of Tumbi Umbi. “Well, of course some football is actually poetry in motion. Others, not so much.”
As is often the case, Jim Dewar of Davistown made his point in … erm … verse.
A worldly-wise sage from Djibouti
Once said, ‘Poetry offers such beauty’
Aye, no one’s averse
To the use of a verse
Except when it pops up in footy.
“If you stepped outside and were ‘shevelled’ (C8), could you also be ‘gruntled’ and ready to face the day?” asks John Richardson of Raymond Terrace.
“Had to put in my tuppence worth and probably spoil the fun on the ‘dishevelled’ v ‘shevelled’ discussion,” writes Lance Rainey of South Grafton. “In medieval times a woman appearing with her hair ‘down’ would be described as being ‘descheveler’. ‘Chevel’ itself just meant ‘hair’. So, to be ‘shevelled’ would appear to mean either having a neat hairdo or, perhaps, just possessing hair.”
“When I was a child, my strict mother saw to it that I was always ‘couth’,” recalls Coral Button of North Epping. “In my teenage years riding pillion on my brother’s motorbike, I struggled to remain ‘shevelled’. Happily now, in my declining years, I have no trouble always remaining beautifully ‘kempt’.”
Peter Hayes of Port Macquarie is “sick of reading and hearing about these influencers. Utterly sick of it. Perhaps it’s time we started calling them influenzas. Apparently they can go viral.”
Column8@smh.com.au
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