A greeble, greeblie or greebly, is the name for the small elements that add detail and scale to models and, often, help make them look more advanced and realistic. Greeble can be both a verb and a noun.

Greeble or greeblie, George Lucas' term, originated on the early Star Wars sets when creating the impressively detailed and realistic models. You can take a simple ship, wall or rooftop, and by adding switches, boxes, cabling, lights and buttons, hey presto, there's a whole lot more technology involved. You can add greebles, or greeblies, to something, or you can greeble it.

A common modelmaking technique for adding elements and greebles to make a design look realistic and sophisticated is to scavenge from existing model kits. Borrowing other parts and repurposing them on a new model is called kit-bashing. Speaking personally, it's also very satisfying making up greebles to add to a LEGO build (MOC—My-Own-Creation)—sometimes the most fun part.

Here's Adam Savage, an ex-Star Wars modelmaker discussing greeblies and kit-bashing (video) or an ILM (Industrial Light and Magic) model shop greeblie (video) used on Star Wars Episode 2. Greebles also make an appearance in the fascinating documentaries about the making of the Star Wars films, Empire of Dreams, and the making of episode 9, The Skywalker Legacy. Sometimes, the making-of is more interesting than what was made. I remember the same feeling watching the making of the Lord of the Rings films, too.

Greeble

What does biweekly mean to you? How about bimonthly or biannually?

While each of us will have our own, perhaps unambiguous, reaction to it, the word biweekly is interpreted as "twice a week" or "once every two weeks." I know this from personal experience of confusing people en-masse. The dictionary even carefully, if unhelpfully, defines it as meaning either. It's a strange quirk of the English language. But it's so handy, what to do? An excellent concise solution is the word fortnightly.

Fortnightly has the helpful unambiguous quality that it means "once every fortnight," so "once every two weeks." And it's also just one word. If something happens "two times a week," I think you need to spell it out or use "twice a week" or perhaps "every Monday and Thursday."

The same source of confusion applies to the words bimonthly and biannually—to be sure of being understood correctly, it's best to avoid them. Phrases like "every second month," "every two months," "twice a month," or "two times each year" are helpful here.

Fortnightly

Writing has power. Power grows through repetition. And repetition, should you reuse the last words of a sentence at the start of the next, is called anadiplosis.

Like the amazing addition of alliteration, anadiplosis is a simple device to give more oomph to your words. Words that are barely changed but pack a lot more punch.

Even if you can't remember the specifics, there's something about Yoda's wisdom that make the logic sound impeccable and irresistible and the message deep. Deep, at least partly, from anadiplosis.

"Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."

I learned about anadiplosis—and pleonasm, and ordering adjectives—from the entertaining and educational, The Elements of Eloquence by Mark Forsyth. Anadiplosis is from the ancient Greek ana meaning again, and diplous meaning double. The Greeks were fond of their techniques for persuasive speeches.

Anadiplosis

A Pyrrhic victory is one where your own losses or damage make it nearly as costly as defeat.

Perhaps that business rival finally went out of business after you lowered prices so much that you can now barely get by. Maybe you managed to prove you were right at the cost of ruining a relationship. Or it could be that the kids did in fact get in the car and go out on that blasted walk only for everyone to have a miserable time, angry at each other for the rest of the day.

Or maybe, as King Pyrrhus of Epirus found in 279 BCE, you won several battles against the Romans while losing so many of your best warriors as to make you wonder at the worth of the whole campaign.

Pyrrhic victory

It's hard to beat the feeling of the warmth of the winter sun on your face. There's a word for it too: apricity. Uplifting, hopeful, calming — even a few short moments to bask in an unexpected, weak but glorious gleam of winter sunlight is wonderful.

A brief burst of apricity warms the spirits and your skin. It reminds me of distant warm, long, summer days, and the promise of spring in a few months. If it has been bleak and cold, apricity is that much more welcome.

From the UK's position in the Northern hemisphere, with the sun low on the horizon, you can let the sun hit full in your face in the middle of the day without craning your neck or leaning back. It's never too hot to seek shade, and often just the right brightness that facing it dead on with your eyes closed is ideal. Together with the long shadows of winter, the effect can have you swept up with the rays, letting them soak into your skin and transporting you away from the cold under your feet.

From the latin aprico, 'to warm in the sun', and in turn aperio, 'lying open', it has been around since at least 1623. It feels to me like we'd benefit from its resurgence.

Apricity

Is it advise or advice? Devise or device? And if you're using British English, license or licence, practise or practice?

Handily, the general practice is to use an 's' for the verb, and a 'c' for the noun. So advise is something you do, and advice is something you give.

In American English, there is only license and practice for both verbs and nouns. However, in British English, you would you use license if you were licensing someone and what they received would be a licence — with a 'c'. And in British English, you would practise when you went to practice.

Some places suggest thinking of the '-ice' at the end as ice which is a noun. Whatever works for you.

License/licence and practise/practice are homophones

Also see, stationary and stationery, compliment and complement, affect and effect

Advise vs advice and other s and c's

How do you avoid confusion when spelling things out verbally, particularly when the sound isn't clear or there may be background noise? So, for example, something like Y I V B D T doesn't unintentionally get heard as Y Y B P D D. Or perhaps as I Y P V T D. A lot of letters sound similar.

A phonetic alphabet, or spelling alphabet, is a way to ensure all letters are unambiguously heard correctly by using words starting with each letter. The set of words was chosen from 1,000s of tests, including real-life ones, to maximise clarity and avoid overlapping sounds with other letters that might cause mix-ups. When written out they include deliberate misspellings Alfa and Juliett to avoid misinterpretation.

The NATO phonetic alphabet is a standard one, but there are other variations.

Phonetic alphabet

Phubbing: snubbing people for your phone.

We've probably all experienced it — heck, we've probably all done it at one point or another — or at least it's likely to be familiar. Someone in a restaurant waiting for their friends to put their phones down. A family gathering where people are no longer talking to each other. A teacher without the attention of their students. A child failing to get the attention of an adult who's trying to process some messages on their phone.

Research on phubbing, mostly since the word was coined, says it largely has the effects you'd think it would. The effects vary with who's being phubbed and who's doing the phubbing: bosses and employees, family members, parents and kids, or partners. Whoever's phubbing who, snubbing is a suitable root word for it — it's not so nice to feel snubbed.

I learned about phubbing from the Mind over Tech community — they also have a newsletter on forming better digital habits.

The word phubbing has the unusual distinction of being created for an advertising campaign to sell a dictionary.

Phubbing, you may have spotted, is a portemanteau. For more phone annoyance see halfalogue.

See, for example, Knausenberger, J. et al. (2022). Feeling Ostracized by Others’ Smartphone Use: The Effect of Phubbing on Fundamental Needs, Mood, and Trust. Frontiers in Psychology, 13. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2022.883901

Phubbing

You know that time when you couldn't concentrate at all because of someone having a phone conversation right next to you? It's the trouble with a halfalogue. Hearing only one side of a conversation, it turns out, can be more distracting than hearing the whole dialogue. This might stem from the unpredictability of the conversation — our brains working overtime to connect the dots and uncertain what's coming next.

Halfalogues were investigated in a paper by Lauren Emberson and coauthors: Overheard Cell-Phone Conversations: When Less Speech Is More Distracting. The distraction potential of halfalogues could have more serious impacts on a driver from a passenger's phone conversation in the back.

A halfalogue is a nice extension of the dialogue and monologue.

Emberson, Lauren & Lupyan, Gary & Goldstein, Michael & Spivey, Michael. (2010). Overheard Cell-Phone Conversations: When Less Speech Is More Distracting. Psychological science. 21. 1383-8. 10.1177/0956797610382126.

Halfalogue

A pleonasm is the use of redundant words, often in established phrases or idioms.

I tried to write something, but it's hard to beat this excellent excerpt by the comedian George Carlin from When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops — spot the pleonasms:

"My fellow countrymen, I speak to you as coequals, knowing you are deserving of the honest truth. And let me warn you in advance, my subject matter concerns a serious crisis caused by an event in my past history...At that particular point in time, I found myself in a deep depression, making mental errors which seemed as though they might threaten my future plans. I am not over-exaggerating.

I needed a new beginning, so I decided to pay a social visit to a personal friend with whom I share the same mutual objectives and who is one of the most unique individuals I have ever personally met. The end result was an un­expected surprise. When I reiterated again to her the fact that I needed a fresh start, she said I was exactly right; and, as an added plus, she came up with a fi­nal solution that was absolutely perfect.

Based on her past experience, she felt we needed to join together in a com­mon bond for a combined total of twenty-four hours a day, in order to find some new initiatives. What a novel innovation! And, as an extra bonus, she presented me with the free gift of a tuna fish. Right away I noticed an immedi­ate positive improvement. And although my recovery is not totally complete, the sum total is I feel much better now knowing I am not uniquely alone.”

Pleonasm

Kintsugi is the repair of a ceramic item, perhaps a bowl or vase, with a bright gold seam. Like wabi sabi, kintsugi reflects a view that wear and use of an object adds value rather than detracts. Rather than try to hide the past damage and the repair instead it is celebrated and enhanced. A bowl repaired with kintsugi might be seen as more valuable than one that had never been broken.

An ebook might reload the same every time. A book, instead, accumulates its previous use in its pages and appearance — the slight bend in the pages, discoloration from fingerprints or sunlight, creases in the spine at frequently visited pages, a pencil mark here and there. The book itself hints at the story of its own life. A well-thumbed secondhand book can be a beautiful thing.

You may have noticed some modern kintsugi in Kylo Ren's helmet.

Kintsugi

When writing for the web every word counts. We scan pages, instructions, and emails, sometimes skipping reading completely. So it's key to make sure that every word is doing a job. Over the years I find there are words that I routinely trim from web copy to save space and keep focus while preserving intent. While context always matters and these can't be cut everywhere, here are a handy few that regularly get the cut from web copy:

Obviously, clearly, of course and the like — if it's obvious then don't write it, if it's not, then it's not relevant. If it's obvious to you and not to me then no need to make me feel stupid reading it

Note, please note, note that, notice — we're noting it by writing it so trim the noise by leaving out reminders for readers to note things. If you really want someone to notice you can use the extra space from removing it by making it bigger or bolder

That — can often be trimmed without changing the meaning of a sentence

Exact — very often makes no difference to a sentence

Famous — if it's famous then maybe I've heard of it. If I haven't, then perhaps it's not so famous

Current — if someone asks for my age or job then it's normal to assume they're not asking for what it used to be

Successfully — it's always nice to trim a long word that doesn't add a lot

Have — like 'that', it can often be removed without changing the meaning of a sentence

All, total — when I take these out I often find it's the default assumption anyway

Interestingly, surprisingly and the like — it may be interesting or surprising to you, but I think it's polite, and briefer, to let the reader decide if it's interesting or surprising for them

If you're writing for the web, try removing some and see if it still works.

Micro-editing redundant words

I'd never heard the words flotsam and jetsam used in any way but together so had always assumed it was a term to mean general debris floating in the water or washed up. It turns out they have distinct meanings that also affect how they're treated by law.

Flotsam, from flotter to float, refers to debris accidentally lost or washed overboard, often from a shipwreck or accident.

Jetsam is debris that was deliberately jettisoned by a boat in distress, likely to try and lighten the load.

Being that flotsam was lost accidentally, under maritime law, it can be claimed by the original owner, but jetsam can be claimed by the person who found it.

The rubber duck in the sketch refers to the story of the thousands of rubber ducks that washed overboard (flotsam) in the Pacific ocean in 1992. Over the next 25 years, the ducks found themselves washed ashore all across the world revealing much of the ocean's currents as one giant connected system.

Flotsam and jetsam

For some obscure reason English speakers will almost always find a flip-flop to be more natural than a flop-flip, or a pitter patter of tiny feet to a patter pitter, or a tick tock to a tock tick. When the vowel changes in a reduplicative term — such as wishy washy or hip hop — it's known as ablaut reduplication and the vowels almost always follow the order I-A-O. If you say them in any other way they almost always sound weird. It's quite fun to think of examples.

I learned this neat thing from Mark Forsyth when learning about the even more surprising English grammar convention about ordering adjectives — he was explaining why we say the Big Bad Wolf (thanks ablaut reduplication) and not the Bad Big Wolf as our other grammar convention would dictate.

Ablaut reduplication

There's a crucial, and wonderful, distinction between mazes and labyrinths.

A maze is a multi-branching, complex structure with twists, turns, choices, dead-ends and treasure or Triwizard cups in the centre. It's confusing, daunting, exciting, fun, challenging, maybe deadly. A maze heightens awareness, concentration, and your heart rate.

A labyrinth has a single path. One long, twisting, but unwavering path towards the central destination and back out. It's simple, calming, straightforward, reassuring and satisfying. Every step is progress. There are no tough choices to make. No paths, maps or mental models to balance in your head. Nothing to intrude on your thinking, just your next step. A labyrinth gives space for your thoughts, and is calming and peaceful.

If you want adventure and action, find a maze. If you'd like calm and contemplation, find a labyrinth.

No wonder then that walking a labyrinth has been found to reduce stress, increase calm and aid recovery in hospitals and centres for therapy and mental health care. Try tracing your finger over the paths of each to feel the difference. Also see: solvitur ambulando.

The two are based on the hedge maze at Henry VIII's Hampton Court Palace near where we live, and the wonderful Land's End Labyrinth (video) near where we used to live.

The original labyrinth of Crete, of Theseus and the Minotaur fame, was complex and confusing and no doubt not like the labyrinths that have now evolved from it.

Labyrinths and mazes

Wabi sabi is a beautiful Japanese idea and worldview of appreciating the small traits of imperfection, the changes in things as they age, and that nothing is wholly complete. It might be appreciating the unique unevenness in a handmade bowl, the cracks and weathering of wood as it is grows old, or the softened and coloured pages of an old book.

It's a lovely frame of mind that helps us see the beauty in things that aren't perfect and brand new. As a society, it's probably something we could do with more of.

The simple phrasing of nothing lasts, nothing is finished and nothing is perfect is from Wabi Sabi Simple by Richard Powell.

Wabi sabi

The Norse Gods are still among us in the names of the days of the week.

Tuesday — from Old English Tiw, for Tyr the Norse god of combat

Wednesday — from Old English Woden, for Odin the one-eyed king of the gods

Thursday — for Thor, the quick to fight god of ordinary people with his magical hammer Mjollnir

Friday — for Frigg, wife of Odin and goddess of marriage and motherhood

While Saturday, Sunday and Monday follow the celestial bodies Saturn, the sun, and the moon.

As a wonderful introduction to the Norse myths and gods you could do much worse than the entertaining and beautifully produced Illustrated Norse Myths I was commanded to read by our 9-year old.

Illustrations based off of those by the excellent Matteo Pincelli.

Days of the week

Ah, that satisfying, superior, at once gleeful and slightly sinful feeling when the aggressive driver that overtook you gets his comeuppance and gets flashed by a speed camera. That feeling is Schadenfreude, a nifty German word made up of schaden for damage, harm or hurt and freude for joy. Taking pleasure in others’ misfortunes.

I hadn’t thought much of it before reading some excerpts from Tiffany Watt Smith’s book Schadenfreude. She makes the compelling case to examine the moments where we feel superior at another’s expense as a small window into ourselves. A little twinge of joy when a colleague doesn’t get a promotion might reveal your jealousy of their situation or a deep-down resentment of unfairness. If the person who pushed in front of you in the queue drops their ice cream straight after buying it, your secret twinge of joy might be a sense of justice and equity for obeying the rules when they didn’t. Schadenfreude can be a little boost to your own self-esteem.

For a mini-intro, try Tiffany Watt Smith’s TED Ideas article: Do you secretly feel good when others stumble? 5 ways to make peace with this very human emotion.

Schadenfreude

Chindogu are inventions that are not really useful but are at the same time, not completely without use. They make sense, but you’d never use them. They are also, as a result, often really funny.

This chindogu article gives some great examples while also sharing the 10 tenets of what makes chindogu, chindogu. Things like: there must be the spirit of anarchy —  they represent freedom of thought and action. And they must exist — just the idea isn’t enough, they must be made.

Apparently, the selfie-stick was invented as chindogu but failed as people evidently actually found it useful — though you can still see why it might have started as chindogu.

Chindogu

Remarkably, when we describe a noun we almost always, unconsciously, arrange adjectives in this order: opinion, size, age, shape, colour, origin, material, purpose.

If you try mixing them up in a different order it just doesn’t sound right. Compare, for example, a super little Italian coffee, to an Italian little super coffee. Or as Mark Forsyth points out in The Elements of Eloquence: How to turn the perfect English phrase, you can have a great green dragon, but not a green great one.

Ordering adjectives

A word that when capitalized changes meaning, and sometimes pronunciation.

For years as a kid, no joke, I couldn’t understand why there was a polish club at the bottom of our road. Yes, it was a Polish club.

Some examples: turkey/Turkey, may/May, march/March, august/August, lent/Lent, reading/Reading, mobile/Mobile, polish/Polish, alpine/Alpine, china/China.

When they change pronunciation they’re also heteronyms.

Capitonym

Tsundoku is the beautiful Japanese word for the acquiring and piling up of books without reading them. Constructed from 2 words loosely meaning piling up and reading.

The sketch is loosely based on my parents’ bedroom while I grew up, both of whom are experienced and talented tsundoku-ers/tsundokists.

Tsundoku

We all know that you make an acronym by taking the initial letters of a set of words and putting them together. So Random Access Memory becomes RAM, or the United States becomes the US. But I only found out recently that these two examples are actually different.

An acronym is when the initials of a set of words are said as a word, like ram, laser, radar, sonar, NATO, or NASA. An initialism is where a set of initials are spelled out as letters when saying them, like FBI, CIA, USA, BBC, or CD.

Acronyms and initialisms

This one rewards a little close attention—looking at each of the words and figuring out their different meanings or sounds.

I’ve always loved heteronyms and how we can have a single word spelt the same and yet pronounced quite differently — like read — and how that clearly makes English a crazy language to learn. And, as you probably do too, I pretty much woke up at night thinking how you could sort words into groups of the same or different spelling and the same or different sounds and begin to make sense of these curious groups of words like homographs, homophones and heteronyms.

Words with different spellings and different sounds generally just mean different words.

There are nice buckets of other words too like contranyms — words that can be their own opposite. And also aptronyms.

I did think a third axis of the same or different meaning may give the complete picture but would probably just serve to confuse things.

Some Greek: homo—same, hetero—different, graph—written, phone—sound

Homonyms, homographs, homophones, heteronyms… 

The Oxford comma is the comma after the penultimate item in a list. It’s normally a matter of style — you can happily choose to leave it out — though in some cases it can clarify what would otherwise be an ambiguous meaning, as in this well-cited book dedication “To my parents, Ayn Rand and God.” Or, more pertinently, in a recent legal case where ambiguity hinging on the lack of an Oxford comma is costing a dairy firm a $5m overtime payment to its drivers.

The Oxford comma

A word from the Sami people of Northern Norway, Finland or Sweden, from ‘coffee’ and ‘boil’, used as a measure of distance for how far you can go before you need a cup of coffee.

Kaffikok

Nominative determinism is the idea that people might inadvertently be drawn to careers related to their names. It suggests that if you are called Baker, you might unknowingly gravitate towards a career in baked goods. Sort of the opposite of someone with the surname of Baker because the family was once bakers.

Apparently coined in the New Scientist by reader C. R. Cavonius after people kept submitting examples, including those in the sketch. More examples here.

Nominative determinism

Not the easiest switch to make but given that jellyfish and starfish are not at all fish there is a move to call them sea jelly and sea star. As long as we all work to help protect them clearly it doesn’t matter a whole lot, but I think the move to sea jellies and sea stars makes good sense alongside others like the sea horse, sea cucumber, sea lion, sea lily, sea gooseberry…well, actually the sea horse is a type of fish, but you get the idea.

Sea jelly, sea star

Muphry's law is a variation of Murphy’s law whereby if you happen to be criticizing someone else’s spelling or grammar you’ll have a mistake yourself. Or should that be criticising?

Muphry’s Law

There’s a surprising amount of wisdom in A. A. Milne’s classic stories of Winnie-the-Pooh. If you haven’t read them for a long time, you could do much worse than try them again. As one small example, I find there’s a lot of Owl Speak around as we get older, where we could all probably benefit from a dose of Pooh’s simplicity. Owl never uses a short, simple word when a long and complicated one would do. For example, in one revealing exchange, Owl explains:

“Well, the customary procedure in such cases is as follows.”

“What does Crustimoney Proseedcake mean?” said Pooh.

…”It means, the Thing to Do.” says Owl.

We learn more and more Owl Speak the more time we spend in school, only to have to work to remove it when we are older.

Both quotes are from The House at Pooh Corner. Or, if you prefer to have the wisdom called out, you could try The Tao of Pooh, by Benjamin Hoff.

How to speak plainly, by Pooh Bear

Idempotence is essentially an operation that, no matter how many times you do it, you’ll still get the same result, at least without doing other operations in between. A classic example would be view_your_bank_balance being idempotent, and withdraw_1000 not being idempotent. It’s a property that’s often handy as you can retry the operation without worrying about unintended effects.

Idempotence is a concept from mathematics and computer science but can be applied more generally. For example, simple on and off buttons are idempotent, a property that can be very useful in emergencies.

Idempotence

Unless you were a maths, physics or Greek major, chances are your knowledge, like mine, may not have gone much farther than epsilon. I like how the letter names and shapes map or don’t to the Roman or Latin alphabet.

Know your Greek alphabet

How do you remember which are stalactites and stalagmites in a cave? And how to spell them?

The key to getting the whole thing the right way round in my mind is to remember that you need to cling tight (tite) to the ceiling. Once that’s established, you have a letter C in stactite that fits cling and ceiling. And stalagmites, with its cheeky G, naturally then is the other one which would grow on the ground. Sorted?

Stalactites, Stalagmites

A word that can be its own opposite. I learned this from Kathryn Schulz’ excellent article, What part of “No, totally” don’t you understand, about how “no, totally” came to mean “yes.” Contranyms — like heteronyms, portemanteaus, palindromes, and semordnilaps — are neat things to look out for. Like how you can dust something to pick up dust from a surface, and dust that surface to remove dust from it. So versatile. Or perhaps confusing.

Contranym

It’s curious how going downhill seems to have two opposite meanings.

The different faces of downhill

Ghoti is a constructed word intended to illustrate some of the craziness in English punctuation, in that, taking the sounds of its parts from different places, it could be said as fish.

In my book -ough, in particular, is the craziest as in enough, thorough, bough, through, although - all pronounced totally differently.

I’d heard it credited to George Bernard Shaw but, apparently, his biography credits it to an ‘anonymous spelling reformer’.

Crazy English: ghoti

The best reference I found on quotations was the quotation section in Larry Trask’s Guide to Punctuation. Alongside clarifications [ ] and suspensions … it contains rules on fun things like quotes in quotes, when to capitalise, dealing with mistakes [sic], adding emphasis [emphasis added], and punctuation inside or outside. On this last point he suggests:

"You may follow your own preference in this matter, so long as you are consistent. If you opt for logical punctuation [putting the punctuation outside the quote], you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you are on the side of the angels, but you should also expect some grim opposition from the other side [that prefers punctuation on the inside]."
— Larry Trask

Quotiquette: The etiquette of quoting

Sadly it turns out that there is not reliable evidence for this derivation of the word POSH, but it’s so nice I’d finished the sketchplanation before I knew it. The story went that if you were travelling by boat from Western Europe to India and the Far East by boat back in the day the rich people naturally took the best cabins. And the best cabins on the way Out, were on the Port side so you got a great view of the coast all the way around Africa. And on the way back on the Starboard site to enjoy the view once more. Et voila POSH as a synonym for rich. After much digging I had to conclude that the story was apocryphal, but it’s nice nonetheless.

POSH: Port Out Starboard Home (apocryphal)

For a long time, I’ve kept my ear (and eye) out for heteronyms: words that are written the same but said differently. Homonyms are easy to spot - things like chip (food, processor), or bark (dog, tree) - but heteronyms are sneaky and you don’t notice them as easily. Fiddly things like windy, present, read, or close.

It always strikes me they must make English a pain to learn - “what do you mean read can be said as red or reed??! How’m I supposed to know that??”

A few other common ones (try to spot both pronunciations, it’s a little like the old out-cube/in-cube Necker illusion): bow, does, dove, import, lead, project, refuse, sow, tear, minute…

Also known as a homograph (homo - same, graph - writing)

Hat tip to Richard Stevens for his nifty vintage-style heteronym list

Heteronym: spell it the same, say it differently

It was only relatively recently that I realised that the transposition of day and month that each does, also translates to the written out form. So in the US it’s common to say April 1st, whereas in the UK most would say 1st of April.

The most convenient way for most dates on a computer is yyyy-mm-dd however, so they always sort easily. You may have realised this when adding dates to filenames. Though a lot of software uses UNIX time which is, as you would expect, is “defined as the number of seconds that have elapsed since 00:00:00 Coordinated Universal Time (UTC), Thursday, 1 January 1970, not counting leap seconds." So midday on the 12th March this year (or March 12th) at midday is of course 1426161600.

UK vs US date writing

From various sources I have learned that mandarins are the original, from China, and were rather fancy and therefore only suitable for high society, which included mandarins (bureaucrats).

Satsumas are a type of mandarin cultivated in the Japanese district of Satsuma.

Clementines are named after Father Clément Rodier who may have cultivated the variety himself.

And tangerines are so named as being from Tangiers in Morocco, one of the places where mandarins were first imported into Europe.

Origins of mandarins

Named after a Reverend remarkably enough.

Spoonerisms

Learning and using kind words first when traveling will take you further than others. Before I enter a country with a new language, I write a list of these words and find out how to say them. It has served me well.

Learn kind words first in new countries

Turns out there are a lot of ways not to say the market is down and your investments have lost value. Try also: quieter or choppy.

Euphemisms for losing money

Two properties distinguish when to use less and fewer in English.

Use less if it's measured by mass, for example, less sugar, and fewer if the nouns are countable, for example, fewer sugar cubes.

Use less if the nouns don't go plural, for example, less furniture, and fewer if the nouns pluralise ok, for example, fewer chairs.

Hopefully, this will help clear up any confusion.

Also see: Affect Effect; stationary stationery; Compliment complement, the pedants are revolting (reddit)

Less and Fewer

There are others too. But these are big ones. Curious? Read Metaphors We Live By was a frame-changing easy read for me.

PS Accidentally, mixed my metaphors in the final sketch. The Mind Is A Machine metaphor is so pervasive it’s hard to ‘sketch’ across thinking without it.

Metaphors for ideas

Why fit in when you were born to stand out. (Dr Seuss)

Sketchplanations tagged with words