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	<title>Simon Winchester &#187; Word of the Week</title>
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		<title>Ceilidh</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/11/ceilidh/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/11/ceilidh/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 27 Nov 2011 23:29:25 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=883</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[In honor of the 42nd birthday (on 28th November) of my son Angus, who is a mixologist extraordinaire, I was going to ruminate on the origins of the word whisky, derived from either the Scots Gaelic usquebaugh or the rather lovelier Irish ditto uisgebeatha.  But a combination of linguistic ill-discipline and serendipity led me otherwise, [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>In honor of the 42nd birthday (on 28th November) of my son Angus, who is a <em>mixologist extraordinaire</em>, I was going to ruminate on the origins of the word <em>whisky</em>, derived from either the Scots Gaelic <em>usquebaugh</em> or the rather lovelier Irish ditto <em>uisgebeatha.  </em>But a combination of linguistic ill-discipline and serendipity led me otherwise, to the reminder that the winter dancing season has now begun back home in Scotland, and that all over the nation, from Lerwick to Berwick, from Dunnet Head to Gretna Green, Scots will be enjoying the delights of the <em>ceilidh (</em>pronounced <em>caylee</em>), and which originally signified</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>an evening visit, a friendly social call.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Today, and for the past hundred years or so, the word has come to mean</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>a session of traditional music, storytelling, or dancing</em></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">all of which is these days often augmented (and often greatly improved by being so) with ample quantities of <em>usquebaugh</em>. Such gatherings are a lot of fun: most birthdays, bar-mitzvahs and even the coming holidays tend to pale beside a full-blown Highland <em>ceilidh</em>, though their hangovers are seldom so memorable.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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		<item>
		<title>Jobs</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/10/jobs/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/10/jobs/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 06 Oct 2011 16:12:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=867</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[As a modest lexical tribute to Steve Jobs, I thought it might be useful to remind ourselves of the origin of his surname-word - defined only in its singular form, of course - by noting that it is a word possessed of connotations considerably less stellar and uplifting than those attached to the  astonishingly gifted [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>As a modest lexical tribute to Steve Jobs, I thought it might be useful to remind ourselves of the origin of his surname-word - defined only in its singular form, of course - by noting that it is a word possessed of connotations considerably less stellar and uplifting than those attached to the  astonishingly gifted co-founder of Apple Computer.</p>
<p>As it happens the first sense of Job in English also stems from a surname. The Biblically-recorded patriarch of the land named Uz was named Iobe, and as the story has it, he was man revered for enduring poverty and privation. So legendary was his stoicism, indeed,  that his name - which since the 13th century has been given an affricative, and rendered as Job - has come to stand for <em>a figure with endless patience and fortitude.</em></p>
<p>More commonly - though lexicographically a little more puzzling - the word <em>job</em> , without a capital initial, has also come to mean</p>
<h3 id="eid40399438" style="text-align: center;">A piece of work; <em>esp.</em> a small and discrete piece of work done as part of one's regular occupation or profession.</h3>
<p>The first use of this sense is recorded in 1557. There is a continuing debate, however. It ranges around whether this word - of unknown origin, it has to be confessed - first strictly meant just a piece of work, or whether it meant a piece of <em>the results of work. </em>For there is sense, dating from three years later, 1560, where <em>jobbe</em> (as it was then spelled) came to be used to designate</p>
<h3 id="eid40399380" style="text-align: center;"> A cartload; the amount that a horse and cart can bring at one time</h3>
<p>Scholars are still searching for which of these senses (and there are many more) truly came first. It is part of the great joy of the lexicographic art that so many still feel compelled to track down just what a well-known English word really meant, at the moment it was first gathered into our language.</p>
<p>That small controversy aside, one thing is for sure, however: in the nicest possible sense, Steve Jobs himself was indeed <em>a piece of work</em>, unique and unforgettable. Appositely named, maybe, though with a hint of an enduring enigma about him also.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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		<title>Froward</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/08/froward/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/08/froward/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 30 Aug 2011 18:47:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=864</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This is a word much-disdained by spell-checking software - most brands insist the 'ro' should be an 'or'. But in just the same way that we bravely overrule the direction-Nazi inside the car GPS, so we should on occasion ignore the spell-checker. Most especially here, since froward is an ancient (14th century), respectable and rather [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>This is a word much-disdained by spell-checking software - most brands insist the 'ro' should be an 'or'. But in just the same way that we bravely overrule the direction-Nazi inside the car GPS, so we should on occasion ignore the spell-checker. Most especially here, since <em>froward</em> is an ancient (14th century), respectable and rather beautiful-sounding word (it is pronounced with its first syllable rhyming with <em>row</em>, as in an argument). Moreover, its meaning renders it more than a little useful: it signifies</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>disposed to go counter to what is demanded or what is reasonable; perverse, difficult to deal with, hard to please; refractory, ungovernable; also in the wider sense, bad, evilly-disposed, "naughty".</em></p>
<p>We've had violent and dreadful weather in the American north-east this past few days, as Hurricane Irene has swept through ungovernably, from the Carolinas to Vermont. It would be entirely proper to describe our weather as <em>froward</em>, much as Lord Russell was once described as "froward, arrogant and mutinous." Nasty, bad, ill-disposed - Lords and hurricanes, all of a piece.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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		<title>Axolotl</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/08/axolotl/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/08/axolotl/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 21 Aug 2011 00:10:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=861</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[In our tiny pond today there were red salamanders, by the score - a vision which prompted me to recall a smutty ditty we used to hum at school, about a salamander lookalike: I had a little axolotl, and I kept it IN a bottle. (The poem got worse from that point on, and bears no [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>In our tiny pond today there were red salamanders, by the score - a vision which prompted me to recall a smutty ditty we used to hum at school, about a salamander lookalike: <em>I had a little axolotl, and I kept it IN a bottle.</em> (The poem got worse from that point on, and bears no repeating.) But what a lovely word, <em>axolotl</em> - one of only four words that have found their way into the English language from - wait for it - the Aztec. (The others are weird and wildly unfamiliar: <em>Nahuatl</em>, <em>teguexin</em> and <em>tule</em>.) <em>Axolotl</em> is defined as</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>a batrachian reptile (Siredon pisciforme, family Proteidae) found in Mexican lakes, resembling a salamander in appearance but, like all the Proteidae,retaining through life the gills of its young state.</em></p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>And why <em>batrachian</em>? Dictionary definitions are not supposed to include words more complex than the one being defined, and I venture to suspect that few will know what <em>batrachian</em> means. Well, your misery is over: it is from the Greek word for <em>frog</em> - and it signifies in this case that the axolotl is froglike and does not, like a salamander, have a tail.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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		<title>Canicular</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/08/canicular/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/08/canicular/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 12 Aug 2011 16:14:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=858</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[At dawn there is a faint autumn crispness to the air here in western Massachusetts -  a reminder that we are now coming to the end of the dog days of August, the days that in the Northern Hemisphere are traditionally the hottest, laziest and most enervating of the year. Their popular name - the [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>At dawn there is a faint autumn crispness to the air here in western Massachusetts -  a reminder that we are now coming to the end of the dog days of August, the days that in the Northern Hemisphere are traditionally the hottest, laziest and most enervating of the year. Their popular name - the dog days - stems from the fact that Sirius, the dog-star, rises and sets with the August sun.</p>
<p>But these days also have a more formal name, to the religious and astronomically-minded. These are the <em>canicular days</em>, or</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>the days immediately preceding and following the heliacal (in modern times, according to some, the cosmical) rising of the Dog-Star (either Sirius or Procyon,) which is about the 11th August.</em></p>
<p>The <em>canicular cycle</em> is the ancient Egyptian period of 1,461 years of 365 days each (or 1,460 Julian years) - a period during which each of the 365 days would have passed through (or so the ancient Egyptians wrongly supposed)  all the seasons of a natural year.</p>
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		<title>Quisling</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/07/quisling/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/07/quisling/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 24 Jul 2011 15:11:29 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=851</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The week's unfolding tragedy in Norway, in which a right-wing nationalist named Anders Breivik killed scores of innocents in Oslo and on a nearby island-retreat, brings to mind another extreme and widely condemned Norwegian, whose name, Vidkun Quisling, has become part of the English lexicon. Quisling - a prominent Norwegian politician since the 1920s - [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>The week's unfolding tragedy in Norway, in which a right-wing nationalist named Anders Breivik killed scores of innocents in Oslo and on a nearby island-retreat, brings to mind another extreme and widely condemned Norwegian, whose name, Vidkun Quisling, has become part of the English lexicon. Quisling - a prominent Norwegian politician since the 1920s - had views on Aryan nationalism and Norwegian exceptionalism, and a mistrust of Jews, that led him into an association with Hitler and to his eventual leadership of a pro-Nazi puppet government in Oslo for most of World War II.  <em>The Times </em>in London promptly condemned him in an editorial titled <em>Quislings Everywhere</em> - a comment so widely read that the word instantly became common currency, being taken to mean</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>a traitor to one's country: a collaborationist; esp. during the war of 1939-45</em></p>
<p>The parallels between the ultra-Nordic leanings of both Quisling and Breivik are startling - both serving as reminders of the capacity for extremism among peoples who believe themselves to belong to a racial stock displaying, as each would put it, <em>purity</em>.</p>
<p><em>Quisling</em> - with the capital initial soon dropped - is a word fortunate in its sonorous appositeness, suggesting as it does a kind of slithery derangement. It was little surprise that the verb <em>to quisle</em> soon entered the English language, somewhat more so that a weird back-formed noun <em>quisler</em> was soon born - unneeded, since we already had <em>quisling</em>.</p>
<p>It seems doubtful that a word <em>Breivik</em> will ever enjoy popular currency. This young man's fate, if the courts find him guilty and sane, will most probably condemn him to prison for a very long while.  Vidkun Quisling, said by his supporters to be a gentle and intelligent man - and like Breivik, strikingly and disarmingly blond and handsome - was found guilty of treason in 1945, and shot.</p>
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		<title>Hecatomb</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/07/hecatomb/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/07/hecatomb/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 18 Jul 2011 16:08:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=847</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[With all those members of the Establishment currently falling on their swords in the Great British Phone-hacking Brouhaha - ten arrested so far, four major resignations so far, any number of sackings and a threat of a company, perhaps even a government, collapse - I am reminded of this wonderful Greek word for a mass [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>With all those members of the Establishment currently falling on their swords in the Great British Phone-hacking Brouhaha - ten arrested so far, four major resignations so far, any number of sackings and a threat of a company, perhaps even a government, collapse - I am reminded of this wonderful Greek word for a mass sacrifice, <em>hecatomb</em> - a combination of the word for a hundred (<em>hekaton</em>) and oxen (<em>bous</em>). Originally it did indeed refer to the slaughter of cattle, but it is now extended</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>to the religious sacrifice of other nations; a large number of animals offered or set apart for sacrifice</em></p>
<p>It is said that Pythagoras, normally a placid and animal-loving sort of chap, offered up a hecatomb on discovering that the square of the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle was equal in area to the sum of the squares on the other two sides. Whether the outing of Rebekah Brooks is an equally profound event we will not know for a while; but the consequences are beginning to sound rather similar.</p>
<p>Hypotenuse, in case you wondered, comes from the Greek for <em>stretching under </em>- since it is the long stretch opposite the right angle.</p>
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		<title>Myrmidon</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/06/myrmidon/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/06/myrmidon/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 12 Jun 2011 17:11:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=844</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[On how many tedious occasions do we encounter - more often back in Britain than here in America, I suspect - a functionary whose only true function seems to be officious?  Well, here's a term to employ to describe him, and without getting yourself promptly arrested. Myrmidon, with an upper-case initial, is a long-forgotten word [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>On how many tedious occasions do we encounter - more often back in Britain than here in America, I suspect - a functionary whose only true function seems to be officious?  Well, here's a term to employ to describe him, and without getting yourself promptly arrested.</p>
<p><em>Myrmidon</em>, with an upper-case initial, is a long-forgotten word from ancient Greece which once signified</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>one of a warlike race of men inhabiting ancient Thessaly whom, according to the Homeric story, Achilles led to the siege of Troy.</em></p>
<p>All well and good - but hardly useful for describing an annoyingly efficient Constable Plod.  However, in today's English, and when spelled with a lowercase initial, the sibling-form of <em>myrmidon</em> has come to be</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>applied contemptuously to a policeman, bailiff or other inferior administrative officer of the law</em></p>
<p>which seems to be of far greater utility.</p>
<p>Far be it for us ever to suggest that an over-eager policeman might be an inferior officer of the law. But to term him a <em>myrmidon!</em> Why, he might even feel a little proud of himself - until, of course, he came home, removed his helmet and put down his truncheon, and turned to his dictionary...</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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		<title>Mariolatry</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/06/mariolatry/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/06/mariolatry/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 06 Jun 2011 23:59:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=840</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[In the normal scheme of things Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ, would in early June, be starting to show signs - sickness at dawn, a craving for pickles, a slight bulge in the midriff - that she was expecting the famous baby that would be born at the end of December. That there was [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>In the normal scheme of things Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ, would in early June, be starting to show signs - sickness at dawn, a craving for pickles, a slight bulge in the midriff - that she was expecting the famous baby that would be born at the end of December. That there was no acknowledged father, and since Mary was somehow proven to be still intact and inviolate, so there arose the story of the Immaculate Conception and the miraculous nature of Mary's maternal condition. To believers, the lady then swiftly rose to the level of a sub-deity - and there are those especially ardent admirers who, to this day, worship Mary, demand her recognition as a truly godlike creature, and pray to her with as much enthusiasm as they do to her esteemed son. By so doing, these super-keen people are said to be practitioners of <strong><em>mariolatry</em></strong>, or</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>the idolatrous worship of the Virgin Mary, attributed by opponents to Roman Catholics.</em></p>
<p>Mainstream Catholics, in common with most sensible Christians, take a dim view of the Mariolaters in their midst, and urge instead the rather more benign devotion to her memory displayed by the milder-mannered <em>Marians</em>. These men and women have tended to be regarded with a greater degree of tolerance - but also with some puzzled pity, it being generally difficult to explain the precise purpose of their attentions.</p>
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		<title>Halcyon</title>
		<link>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/05/halcyon/</link>
		<comments>http://simonwinchester.com/2011/05/halcyon/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 May 2011 16:34:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Simon</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word of the Week]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://simonwinchester.com/?p=835</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I have little doubt but that someone, somewhere in the northern hemisphere will be looking up into the blue summer skies over the next few days and declaring from his deck-chair how blissful it is to be alive during such halcyon days. And in a sense he would be right to do so, in that [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I have little doubt but that someone, somewhere in the northern hemisphere will be looking up into the blue summer skies over the next few days and declaring from his deck-chair how blissful it is to be alive during such <em>halcyon</em> days. And in a sense he would be right to do so, in that the word, when appended to 'days', does signify moments that are</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>calm, quiet, peaceful and undisturbed</em></p>
<p>But otherwise he would be quite wrong.  <em>Halcyon</em> is the Greek word for kingfisher, and kingfishers were long thought to live in nests that floated on the surface of the sea. They did not breed during the stormy days of summertime, but waited for the traditional</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>fourteen days of calm weather, [which was] anciently believed to occur about the winter solstice</em></p>
<p>So halcyon days may well be calm; and the skies may well be blue; but they would also be perishingly cold - a time of year when kingfishers, unlike us,  have managed to come up with their peculiarly avian means of keeping warm.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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