Wordplay

Today is my birthday and I'm shielding so, in the absence of a trip to the coast/coffee with a mate/ a pub lunch (if only), I hope you'll humour me if I indulge in some birthday word play. 

I've been thinking about typos recently. I have predictive text on my phone which is a good idea in theory, suggesting things it thinks I want to type next so I can click on my Chosen One and continue the sentence. The trouble is, sometimes I forget to click or forget to check, or both. I also have bad eyesight and may be wearing the wrong glasses of the 4 different possibilities, so people can get strange messages. The trouble is once you start using the wrong word, the programme will keep using it in that context so the chances of repeating the mistake are high. Here are some of my common ones: -

  • I'm so dirty... (for sorry) Not good for a clergy wife
  • I treherbert...(for remember) Why???! I have never deliberately typed treherbert in my life (who is he anyway?) but I often do now, thanks to Swiftkey
  • I hope you have a lonely day (for lovely) Inappropriate - we're all lonely enough at the moment
  • Artichoke to the weekend! (for welcome) I have never knowingly mentioned artichokes on my phone ever. I have no particular interest in them. Swiftkey, it seems, does
  • 6. The number 6 pops up randomly all over the place. Why? Usually I spot him but not always, This has resulted in some interesting conversations: - Got to go. Got a writing workshop 6  Aren't you a bit late, it's already gone 6? That 6 should have been an 8 6  Sorry? What time is that when it's at home? Er, 8!! Don't know why the 6 creeps in everywhere, uninvited! (Not saying any more just in case) 6
The right word matters obviously but during Lockdown, some of my more hilarious typos have provided quite a bit of entertainment and some enjoyable banter on messages and group chats. One in particular, I was told, made a grieving friend laugh out loud. It seems God can use our words, even casual typos, as gifts.

Then there's that family word play, unique in every household. Here are some of ours: -
  •  tomollow (for tomorrow) as our daughter could never say it
  • the interchangeable use of kitchen and chicken for the same reason
  • Brilliant, isn't it Mrs Horton?! which my 30 year old son used to say to his reception teacher every time he showed her his work. Still shouted by us all whenever he expresses pleasure in something he's done
  • A thousand pounds! From a hilarious sketch show on CBBC in the early 2000s called 'Sorry I've Got No Head...' .Randomly used at family gatherings whenever surprise at the cost of something is expressed
  • I didn't like to say After polite relatives who would never say what they thought even though they should have. Used today in our family sarcastically. E.g. I knew the curtain would catch fire but I didn't like to say.
Words can cheer us up. They can also bind us together, like the cheesecake jokes on the ACW Facebook page. 

There is quite a bit or research to show that 'playing' with words can help children to become better writers and spellers. This is why I abandoned the weekly spelling test when I was a class teacher. Children mainly learned them for the test then instantly forgot them. Instead I gave them Spelling Journals and time each day to 'play' with the week's spellings. We listed them, talked about any patterns or exceptions and then, with a sheet of prompts, felt pens, coloured stamps etc. they were free to experiment with them however they wanted to. 

I also rewarded them evert time they used one of the weekly spellings correctly in their writing. It really worked. (I did test them at the end of term).


It is surely true of adults too. The more we play with words, the more we learn how to use them effectively. One of my favourite ploys when I'm writing is to make up compound words which help me describe things in exactly the way I want to. Here are a few: -

  • Seabirds on pipe cleaner legs turn heads and stare in lazy-slow light.
  • The air has that seared-earth smell of summer, of timelessness
  • The trees, imposing in summer, seem frail without leaves, pale branches lifting-lazy, like tired limbs
  • Briefly she thinks of Hudson visiting in winter, mounting the ramp, standing in wind-folded darkness with waves crashing on the rocks below
  • Today the light is naked, the trees bare-armed brown
  • It’s that kind of small-house road, where people come out and chat, unlike the big-house driveways and restraint she was brought up with
How do you experiment with words in your writing?

The other day, having looked with horror at the ever growing pile of meds my consultant is using to try and control my health, I was rather taken by some of the names. They could be better used elsewhere, I think. How about for the following?
  • Carbocisteine - an order of nuns committed to a carbon-free lifestyle
  • Lansoprazole - a person who holidays in Lanzarote at least twice a year
  • Adcal - a range of high calorie drinks designed to help put on weight
  • Flutiform -  A new exercise regime which involves a lot of puffing and blowing and results in a flute-like figure
  • Montelukast - brand name for a custom designed cast iron toilet (Great hotel. There's even a montlukast in the ensuite!)
So how do you play with words?  Had any cracking typos lately? What family wordplay makes you smile? How do you use words differently when you write? 

I'd love it if you'd tell me in the comments below. Go on, indulge me. It's my birthday! 😉



Click here to see the novella on amazon


Deborah Jenkins is a primary school teacher and freelance writer who has written articles, text books, devotional notes and short stories. She writes regularly for the tes. She has also completed a novella, The Evenness of Things, available as an Amazon e-book. She is currently working on the publication of a novel, Braver, and some children's stories about a cat called Oliver. Deborah loves hats, trees and small children. After years overseas with her family, who are now grown up, she lives in Sussex with her husband, a Baptist minister, and a cat called Oliver
 


Comments

  1. Oh, there are so many to contribute, Deborah! Happy birthday and thanks for this blog!
    One of my phones used to offer SMOO as an alternative to SOON. A friend and I still say “see you smoo” years later.
    My mum has an order of service printed for a funeral which had so many typos in for the hymn lyrics that the congregation were in stitches. I’m sure it was just what was needed.
    My older son used to say “rocker-rygle” for crocodile, that’s probably my favourite.

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    1. Thank you Janey! SMOO is, I think, far more interesting than SOON and rocker-rygle should definitely go in a children's picture book! Love them. x

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  2. Fab, post and a happy birthday to you. Words are fabulous, aren’t they and that dreaded autocorrect. In my family we say spale instead of space as for many years a letter was not showing up correctly in a sign. Yesterday I typed perviously instead of previously. Now that’s embarrassing.

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    1. Wendy, that made me laugh again. Embarrassing? Maybe. Hilarious? Definitely.
      A common typo for me is 'dead' instead of 'deaf'. "Hi, I'm Emily, and I'm dead." "Sorry, no, I didn't hear that piece on the radio - I'm dead."
      Happy Birthday, Deborah, I hope you have a lovely day.

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    2. The real killer is when you find yourself typing 'Dead Sir/Madam'...

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    3. Thank you so much Wendy! Spale and perviously are brilliant alternatives. Heck we could have a whole new ACW vocabulary now!

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    4. Thanks Emily! I really LOLed at your dead/deaf one. That is actually hilarious.

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    5. Veronica, that sounds like the beginning of a very threatening letter. I.e. After you read this, you might as well be dead. Love it.

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  3. Great post as always. Autocorrect is a little imp we have to keep an eye on, or he'll mess up your messages and shriek with laughter. I find I often type in a particular way adding a p to words. So I might say, 'I thopught it was your birthday!' Have a good one.

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  4. This is a fabulous post, like a little cornucopia (she says, using the word with a very vague understanding of its actual meaning). I think I've told you this story but our daughter Anna's name used to come up as BOMB on my phone which is why I sent a friend a text once saying. 'Going to London on the train with bomb'. Good thing that one wasn't intercepted by the authorities. Our family has retained odd descriptions of eggs borne of a misunderstanding. Boil deggs. Fry deggs. Scramble deggs. Poach deggs. (Eggcetera.)

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    1. Thoroughly enjoyed the blog and the comments.

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    2. Fran, no you've never told me the Anna/BOMB story. How hilarious! We do that with eggs! 'Would you like a boil degg?' Fab.

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    3. Veronica, these comments are actually making my birthday. What a blast! It's like the best kind of party you could possibly have with a group of writers who aren't allowed to meet, and probably couldn't anyway :)

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  5. This is glorious! Made me burst out laughing several times. I love your reworking of medication names. Wonderful. Thanks Deborah for your skill.

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    1. You are very kind. Thank you, Salm for reading and commenting :)

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  6. I loved this. Then I read through something I had written yesterday and found, '‘Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who win against us.’
    In the paragraph above the chart you have evert, but I think it just proves the point you are making!

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    1. Susan your typo from yesterday is actually hilarious. Thanks for spotting the deliberate mistake in mine ;) My usual tendency would be to rush and correct it, but do you know, this time, I'm not going to! As you say, maybe it does make a point...

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  7. Magnificent! This made me laugh hysterically. For some reason, we often shout "macaroon!" in a Scottish accent when something has gone well, if referring to a small amount of something, it's a "tadwinkle" (a word made up by our daughter) and we occasionally "nuggy" each other (vigorously rubbing of the head while shouting "nuggy!" (invented by second son.)

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    1. Haha. These are actually hilarious. You know we should have an actual day when everyone talks to everyone else as they would within their own families. It would be a comfort to know we are not alone in our weirdness! Thank you, Ruth.

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  8. My medications: Evacal: hanging on the phone for ever with Vivaldi playing and occasional bursts of 'Your call is important to us'
    Perindopril: Watching repeats of The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin and laughing dangerously.
    Folpik: an instrument for encouraging young horses to stand up.
    Clomipramine: An area of Colombia where they dig for prams.
    Amitriptyline: When your best friend stumbles while trying to hang up her washing.
    Anastrozole: The gift of tolerating stupid people.
    Iasibon: Sorry, it was me who was stupid.
    Colofac: Instructions on how to use punctuation properly.
    Levetiracetam: A sarcastic response to flippancy.
    Simvastatin: A hill station in India.

    We also have some family words, for instance a 'Caesar Waldo' is a crossword anagram that you've got totally wrong (the original was meant to be 'Oscar Wilde'). And things can get 'complocated' which is how our son first pronounced it. I think that possibly means when you've put something in a safe place - so safe that you can't find it.

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    1. Veronica these are priceless. I love them all but my favourites are your definitions for Amitriptyline and Clomipramine. What fun! All of this word play on here today has actually made my day. I do think I could name medication much better than the pharmaceuticals do. I wonder if it is someone's actual job?

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  9. Thanks for this, Deborah. Provided a much needed giggle!

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    1. I am delighted to hear it Allison! Thank you :)

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  10. No need to add more except to encourage further mirth! I h ave a typing habit of leaving out a letter - hence 'pubic announcements' etc, and on Radio 3, my phone always insists on naming the breakfast presenter as Petroleum Trelawny... - gotta end here, super is ready...

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  11. Absolutely fantastic blog, Deborah, and a very happy birthday!

    I adore misunderstanding. It's my favourite kind of comedy.

    Your typos made me burst our laughing, and I'd have loved to have seen that funeral sheet with the typos.

    Can't think of any typo's now, annoyingly, but if I remember any then I'll know where to come. The only predictive text one is that my friend's son is called Joseph, and my phone wants me to add Memphis after it!

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  12. So weird isn't it, the way our phones do that? Thanks for reading and commenting, Martin. This was such a fun post to write and discuss!

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  13. This whole thread is surely worthy of another blog, or even a short story! A joy.

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  14. What a fabulous blog! Its so funny but I absolutely hate predictive text and I often send without double checking since Im usually multitasking and Im concerned Ill forget to press 'send' altogether! I completely agree with you about spellings and love your Spelling Menu idea - in fact so much so Ive printed it out to use!

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    1. Aw Nikki, bless you! There are many more on the second sheet I'll email it to you - the kids love it! Some of the activities are practical , just so you know to be ready with sand etc or to give a good reason why they might like to attempt those at home!

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  15. Oh I did enjoy that so much and it was well needed. Thank you Deborah. A bit like the "Anna"-bomb, my Conor was often Booms in texts. The same Booms used to call those tiny dogs, whose spelling I'm not sure of "Chichywawas" - which I just love the sound of. My sister makes us words too and uses them audaciously - my favourite is 'squozen' oranges.

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