We’ll begin with a box, and the plura:-)
lt is boxes, but the plural of ox became oxen not oxes. One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, yet the plural of moose should never be meese. You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice, yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.
If the plural of man is always called men, why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen? If I spoke of my foot and show you my feet, and I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth?
Then one may be that, and three would be those, yet hat in the plural would never be hose, and the plural of cat is cats, not cose. We speak of a brother and also of brethren, but though we say mother, we never say methren. Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, but imagine the feminine, she, shis and shim.
Let’s face it: English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger; neither apple, nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren’t invented in England. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea, nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce and hammers don’t ham? Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn’t preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what other language do people recite at a play and play at a recital?
We ship by truck but send cargo by ship. We have noses that run and feet that smell. And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which an alarm goes off by going on.
So if Father is Pop, how come Mother isn’t Mop And if Mum is Mummy, then Daddy must be Dummy!!
So close, I’m sooo damn close!
After having jetted back and forth to London this Spring on various Sarah-related missions, I was thrilled when, having received my Swiss Air Lines Miles & More account overview today, I was informed that, with just a little bit of effort, I could achieve my long sought-after Frequent Traveller status!!
Not to sure what benefits this includes, though. But never mind; take a look at this status bar:
I am soo close!!
And the remaining effort is pretty reasonable, I’d say:
I can already smell the sweet scent of success!
Our dog is great!
He can sit, heel, lie and die on command.
He’ll tear up any intruder by licking them to death and he’s pretty good at making you feel guilty whenever your eating something he isn’t.
AND we are just about to make earth-shattering progress with his skateboard trick! Really!
But, before that, methinks I have just found new training material which will no doubt thrill him to bits:
..because we have apparently just won 1.2 Million Euros!!
Unfortunately our bank account is currently full; so if anyone needs some extra cash, just ask!
Me: “Hey Vic: TGIF!!!”
Me: “C’mon, Vic: T-G-I-F. Thank God It’s…”