On
QI
the other night, the host informed us that the word 'jigger' has 28
distinct meanings in English. The one I'm most familiar is the Scouse
use of it to mean an entry or back passage to a house. And I
certainly wasn't aware it means both 'penis' and 'vagina'. Depending
on whom you're talking to, perhaps. Or where you are in the country.
Which
reminds me . . . The other word I was able to make out during
yesterday's football match was polla,
or 'prick'. The relevant chant seemed to coincide with arrival of the
touch judge at our end of the ground.
Someone
sent me today an email including the word 'epiphenomenon'. Then, this
afternoon, I heard it in a BBC podcast. Ignoring the question of
whether or not I understand what it means - I don't – I wonder what
the odds of this happening are.
A
lovely Spanish vignette – As I was driving home across the bridge
yesterday, the driver of the car in front tooted at the four young women walking towards town. Instantaneously – and without
lifting their eyes from the phones they were reading - each of them
raised an arm and waved it at someone none of them knew. Showing
appreciation for something which would be taken rather differently in
other countries.
Which
reminds me . . . I heard an interesting dialogue between two clever
woman on feminism today. When I was the young father of two girls, I
vehemently believed that women were effectively the same as – and
every bit as competent – as men. I no longer believe this and this
podcast will go some way to explaining why I don't.
I
wanted to get a prescription(script) today from the doctor I've been
allocated down at my local Health Centre. This being my first time
and me being ignorant of the process, I decided to take 10 minutes
out to go there, rather than try to do anything on the phone. As
before, the staff were very helpful and I was given an appointment
for Wednesday, two days from now. But when I told the receptionist I
wanted just to renew a prescription, she changed it to 3.15 this
afternoon. I was writing this on my palm when she told me to take a
piece of paper from the little printer on the counter. Ah, the
Spanish love of paper! When I then asked if I could make future
appointments by phone, there was a enough hesitation before she said
Yes to leave me with some doubt. But, anyway, I asked if the right
phone number was the one on the piece of paper, but she said not and
wrote a new one on it. This process seems anything but efficient to
me – at least compared with the ease and speed one can get repeat
prescriptions in the UK without having to make an appointment with
the doctor - but they seemed happy enough with it. Efficiency is not
a god in Spain. Where one often feels a process has been designed –
or just evolved? – to maximise the involvement of people, the
production of paper and the longest possible duration. All of which
have a natural bias in favour of error.
Postscript:
My afternoon trip to get a prescription was successful. More than
successful in fact, as I got four prescriptions – one for each
product. The doctor filled in each of these by hand – inserting my
name and social security number four times - and then signed and
stamped each one of them. Watching him, I felt this would drive me
mad if I were him. But perhaps it's because I'm new to the system. We
will see!
Finally
. . . Finding that my elder daughter had left behind her styling gel,
I decided to use it to try to tame my over-long locks. Specifically,
to comb the hair on the side of my head back rather than down. I only
mention this because the effect has been startling. At least eight
ladies have kindly volunteered how much they like the new style. And
my – now even lovelier – neighbour, Ester, has said it takes
years off me. Strangest of all, I'm being greeted by women whom I
don't recognise from Adam. As I have been just now, prompting this
paragraph. I wonder if it's because my gelled-down hair is now very
much more Spanish than the Boris-esque unruly mop I normally sport.
Not that anyone could ever take me for Spanish.
Apologies
for the self-indulgence.
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