May I 'thou' you?

I thought that was a peculiar structure when I encountered it in Estonian, but then I stumbled across it in German and in English (albeit, not Modern English).

Seems to be the way to ask someone if you can be familiar with them - not, "may I call you thou?" but rather "may I 'thou' you"?

It took a while for the purpose of "thou" to sink into my head. In university I don't think we expressly covered the fact that "thou" was singular and "you" was plural. That "you" was the polite form, yes, but not that it was the plural form.

When I started working on Estonian I was giving myself notes in Old English, pulled from the dark recesses of my mind, to help me keep track of things. I had remembered that "eow" was plural, so I jotted it next to "teie/te" in my notes to help me remember that the "you" starting with 't' was plural in this language (I was struggling to separate it from "tu" in French).

I had really only seen the Old English versions laid out in this table from Mitchell and Robinson (1992):

Nom.	þū 'thou'	ġit 'you two'	ġē 'ye, you'
Acc.	þē, þeċ	inc	ēow
Gen.	þīn	incer	ēower
Dat.	þē	inc	ēow

While I inderstood the principles behind the Old English parts of that table, I hadn't quite cottoned onto the fact that "thou" was also in that singular column to help make sense of the "þū". I think I was just distracted by the fact that we used to have a Dual form (as well as a Singular and a Plural) for first and second person.

And, of course, because it was never expressly said in class, and I wasn't paying attention when it was written down, I missed it.

So, here I was using "eow" incorrectly (always in the Accusative/Dative case forms, when Estonian doesn't even have Accusitive or Dative cases), when I could have just been using "thou" (in its various declensions) for "sina/sa".

Like a lot of things in this whole language learning schtick, it suddenly became clear after I started learning German, and noticed that the verb conjugation for "du" was pretty dang close to the conjugation for "thou" - which lead to quite the "well, duh, why didn't I notice that before?" moment, I can tell you.

The odd thing is, I know how to conjugate verbs with a thou form, but hadn't actually noticed it was different from the you form. So many gaps in my knowledge. It's as annoying as heck.

I swear, learning another language would be so much easier if we were just taught English properly at school. Dang post-80s curriculum is too lazy. Keeps trying to keep the kids happy by only teaching the version of English we use currently - and even then it barely teaches the grammar.

I tell you, when I write my "introduction to Estonian" textbook, I'm totally going to use a full English/German comparison model that starts by reintroducing the concepts of second-person singular and cases in English. Everything makes a lot more sense in another language if you can see it working in your own, first.

Why the world speaks English

From a comment on a blog I was reading:

"If there are 10 people in a room, and nine of them are Dutch and one is American, they'll all speak English to each other".

That's not lack of pride, that's courtesy.

I couldn't figure out if I wanted to reply on that blog or this one, so I just did both:

Ah, but it's highly likely the American won't speak Dutch or any of the other European languages (except maybe a smattering of Spanish) and, in a way, that's the result of a systematic lack of courtesy.

A strange thing happened in the English colonies in the late 19th/early 20th Centuries. Someone invented leisure time for the working classes. They wanted to go out and explore, and they wanted to do it with the education they already had (thank you very much) and that didn't usually include a foreign language.

And all civilised countries should speak English anyway, right? And if everyone who is anyone is speaking my language, why should I learn any other?

English became the universal language that it is because the sons and daughters of the Empire put their hands on their hips and said "Speak English, dammit!" and everyone said "okay".

Everyone except the French, that is, who said something very rude (in French) and have been reviled ever since as stubborn rude people.

But, you can't really blame them. English became the powerhouse language that it is because of stubborn rude people. The French are just trying to achieve the same result using the same methods.

Of course, this wasn't something particular to working classes. It was part of the psyche of the Empire at the time. Even those who could afford to have an education which included foreign languages regarded every language other than English as an inconvenience.

That's why I live in an area with a massive Italian population, but no signs in Italian (apart from in the Italian restaurants).

"Female lays up to 3000 eggs then dies"

Sounds like a really gruesome headline for a newspaper somewhere, doesn't it? Just part of the average life-cycle for an Australian cattle tick.

I have to say, it sounds like a really boring life. Hatch, climb grass, find animal, eat constantly for a few days, drop off, lay eggs, die. It's not like you can even travel about and see things. At least a flea has the opportunity to move around and try a few different hosts out for a variety of flavours.

Some critters just get the short end of the stick. I'd pity them, if I didn't feel compelled to KILL THEM ALL! What's the point of humans being responsible for who-knows-how-many species' extinctions if we can't wipe out the cattle tick, that's what I want to know.

An Interview With Captain Twomey-Fosnot

The following interview took place on the moors near Captain Katherine Twomey-Fosnot's spacious estates. For some reason, she insisted on walking her dog, a saarloos wolfhond named "Jonathan", while conducting the interview.

Captain Katherine Twomey-Fosnot, thank you for agreeing to this interview
Oh, please, call me "Penny" - positively everyone does.

Really? Why?
You know, I don't rightly know...

Okay. Well, your fans have been dying to hear about your latest adventures. Is it true you've retired from the armed forces?
Yes, quite true. It was fun for a time, but I really only joined so I could earn the rank of captain. They were threatening to promote me to major, so I positively had to leave.

I see. What part of the armed forces were you in, again?
The Light Horse Brigade.

I thought that was Australian?
Most people do.

And, is it?
Oh, indubitably. I did so try to encourage Britain to take up the concept, but the British army simply isn't interested in the model. More's the pity - it was highly effective during the Boer War, you know. And the early 20th Century form of combat is particularly suited to my sporting background.

Ah, yes. I remember you competed on a national level in... what was it again?
Modern Pentathlon. Running, shooting, swimming, fencing and horse riding - very invigorating, I must say. That was in the Summer, of course. During the Winter I competed in the Biathlon for the Danish national team.

Oh, are you part Danish?
Oh, heavens no! But don't tell anyone.

Ah, I see. So, now you are working for the Harris & Byrne Book Detective Agency?
Yes, that's right. I'm always up for a new challenge, what ho!

What exactly do you do, working for a Book Detective Agency?
Oh, some people might find it a bit boring, I suppose. People write into the agency with literary puzzles - problems with books and what not. For example, if a book leaves loose ends or contains unanswered questions and ambiguities. That sort of thing. I then go to a lot of libraries and archives and sort through manuscripts, personal effects, hand written notes and correspondence to see if I can find the answer. Then sometimes I use a time machine to go back and talk to the author.

Really?
Oh, but only if they absolutely cannot be contacted by séance. Time travel is such a messy thing. It's always awkward when you accidentally overshoot your mark and you find yourself talking to an author about a book they haven't written yet.

Yes, I can see how that would be awkward. Have you made any startling discoveries in the course of your work so far?
Well, I had a perfectly fascinating talk with Mary Shelley about exactly how Dr Frankenstein created his monster. It turns out he -- Jonathan! Jonathan, leave that duck alone! No, stay out of that pond! I'm so sorry but you'll have to excuse me. It has been so very amusing talking to you.

Um, thank you for your time.

Captain Twomey-Fosnot ran off after her dog, and never returned. The interview was terminated, and it took me half-an-hour to find my way back to the car.

Hang about - look out!

She's a serious Granny! A serious Granny! She'll do the things that you never saw your granny do! (Is there nothing that she canny do?)

Don't you miss the days when you could complement someone by saying "she's got more front than a row of houses?" Actually, I could never work out if that was actually meant to be a compliment.

I may have stumbled on a Super Gran book while looking trough a list of discards. I may have experienced mild flashbacks to 80s children's television. I may be considering borrowing that book out for a couple of semesters to make sure it isn't available to be removed from the shelves for decataloguing...

Rapuntsel

So, the DVD of Tangled arrived in the mail last week, and I watched it over the weekend. Yes, I spent some unseemly amount of money importing a DVD I could have bought on special from any given music shop or department store in town – but if I’d bought it locally I wouldn’t have been able to get the language options I wanted. You see, by ordering it from Estonia, I get the Estonian options. This magically converts the movie into a learning opportunity.

As the animation was dubbed in Estonian, I had the option of switching the language settings around so I could listen to the English version while watching Estonian subtitles, then flip them to listen to the Estonian version while watching the English subtitles. I have found this to be an enjoyable and useful way to engage in a spot of vocabulary reinforcement (and pick up some nuances regarding turns-of-phrase) with the few DVDs I have that offer me the chance to do this language swapping schtick with German, and I’ve been wanting the chance to do it with Estonian as well.

I’ve got some Estonian DVDs, but they aren’t dubbed in English, so I can really only get the language balance one-way. When I was ordering some books from Estonia recently, the ad for Tangled was all over the place, and I thought a Disney animation might be a good addition to my shipment.

I’m kind of impressed that someone would go to the bother of translating all of the songs into Estonian (and Lithuanian and Latvian, on this DVD). I know Disney usually has their animated movies dubbed into a ridiculous number of languages, but the fact that they would do it for the tiny languages is pretty impressive – especially when you realise that a large number of the people who speak those languages also speak one of the more popular ones. I guess the fact that it’s a kids’ movie means you want the kids to be able to engage in it without having to go through too much schooling first.

Anyway, I thought the movie was brilliant. It has been an awfully long time since I have seen a Disney film that had me wanting to watch it again immediately. This movie, on the other hand, had me willing to switch over the languages and watch it again the very next day – and I still loved it. It could have been because the Alan Menkin sound track was tapping into the same part of my brain that has stored away fond feelings for The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, but I thought the movie seemed like a return to form.

No, scratch that, I thought it seemed like a good story well told – which just happens to be something Disney used to do very well.

It did feel a lot like Beauty and the Beast in places. I watched that film again last year, and found myself impressed with how well it was done, and how well it stood up to the test of time. Sometimes the films you watched as a child don’t age well, but B&tB really was something of a masterpiece. Tangled seemed to catch that same vibe and mix it with a bit of the fun banter from Aladdin - and I’m not just saying that because I kept finding the love song from Tangled bled into A Whole New World when I was humming the tune later.

In the past six months I’ve encountered two retellings of the Rapunzel story - Tangled (obviously) and the graphic novel Rapunzel’s Revenge, by Hale, Hale and Hale. Both were a whole lot of fun, and both are now firmly on my “favourites” lists. It’s always interesting to see what happens when two things touching on the same themes are developed at the same time (the lead-up to the publication of the book and the production of the movie would preclude the creators of either knowing about what was happening with the other version).

For example, both versions ditch the prince in favour of a thief. Both feature a magical flower as the source of Gothel’s power. Both imply that Rapunzel is capable of using her hair as a whip (but only one makes the logical assumption that she might have to plat it first). And both versions make it quite clear that there are exactly three books in the tower – I thought that was a bit odd.

The Disney version stayed close to the traditional version of the fairy tale but did a fair bit of tweaking (and did a better job of explaining why Gothel wanted the child in the first place), while the Hales’ book started with a tweaked version of the tale and then went off on a wild tangent. I thought encountering both versions might make me think less of one of them, but they both rock on their own merits.

Oh, and I now know that the Estonian way to say “I can’t believe I did this!” is “Unbelievable, that this I have done!” (or, to be more precise, “Uskumatu, et seda tegin!”) – which has reinforced vocabulary I know, but shown me how to use it more correctly. And, I now know the Estonian word for “rider” is “ratsur” – which is completely new vocabulary. See: learning stuff. Sounds like a good reason to watch it again…

Sassafrass

So, I've worked it out. The thing with my name.

Regular readers may remember I was recently lamenting the fact that my name had too many letters in it and was difficult to pronounce while over-tired or foreign. I had thought of going by "Sharn", to bring it more in line with my own mispronunciation, but I realised that even that is problematic.

Some NESB people have difficulty with the "sh" and roll the "r" (like, for example, Estonians), so it wouldn't really be that much easier to pronounce than "Sharon". "Shan" was a possibility, but it just doesn't look right. And it still has the "sh" sound, which may just get converted to "s" by some people anyway (like, for example, Estonians).

I think I may have mentioned earlier that, when I went to school all of my friends called me "Shazz" and my mother called me "Sharon", but after I left school that switch over for some reason. I expect it was because my mother was finally used to hearing "Shazz", but I introduced myself to new people as "Sharon" (what with it being my name, and all).

Anyway, I thought "Shazz" might be easier to pronounce, except it also has the "Sh" sound and the "z" sound, which is also a challenge for some people, who are likely to pronounce it as "s" anyway (like, for example, Estonians)...

Then I realised that, if I go with the flow - and deliberately convert everything to "s" sounds, I've actually got something that might be completely slurrable and pronounceable by all: "Sass" (or, as I'd probably spell it in Estonia: "Säss").

Easy to spell, easy to pronounce, easy to throw at people: "My name's 'Sharon', but you can call me 'Säss', if you prefer"...

Plus, (according to Google) in German it means "buttocks", which is hilarious. Actually, in Germany, I'd probably just go with "Sharon".

"What do you think, Sharon?"

I've been noticing a strange thing of late: people keep asking me for my permission or approval before doing things.

I don't know why. I have no authority. I avoid authority like the plague. I try to avoid responsibility as much as possible as well, but I understand I have to shoulder a bit of that from time to time. Authority is (or at least should be) entirely arbitrary, and I'm reasonably sure I have none.

So people come to me and say "What do you think? Should we to this? Can we do that?" and I smile and nod and say "Sure!" wondering why they would ask me in the first place.

I think some of them have finally noticed that, half the time when I say "Sure!" I'm really saying: "I can't see any harm in that, and beyond that point I don't care". The other half of the time I'm just agreeing with them. I like to be agreeable.

Is the Duck a Gateway Drug?

So, I have this thing I do, where I'll see something crafty and think: "I want to be crafty! I want to make things! With my hands!"

So, I'll start trying to do something (like sewing, or quilt making) and feel all useful and practical because I know if I can keep it up I'll be able to do handicrafts... before realising that my attention span isn't really up to these sorts of challenges.

I'll buy "simple patterns" for some skirt or blouse, and never make them. Or I'll get all of the material needed for a "simple" quilt design, and never get past cutting out the first few squares. Or I'll buy a crochet hook and a ball of yarn and make about five inches worth of a scarf.

I even flirted with the idea of taking up spinning and weaving once. I went as far as going to the local textiles club to see if I might be able to take classes or something. Some nice woman put her own knitting aside to show me how to spin, which was great, only I realised before I'd even left the building that I'd never see it through. It required a level of patience, competence and continuity that I struggle to produce at the best of times.

I know this about myself, yet I still can't seem to avoid the trap of walking into a shop that sells crafty things and thinking: "I want to be crafty! I will buy this easy guide to something-or-other and then I will make things!"

So, the other day, while I should have been looking for something else, I bought a counted cross-stitch pattern. It was a simple pattern obviously designed for complete beginners and/or children. It was a duck, and the price-tag was 99c.

"I'll buy a duck for a buck," I said to myself, and ended up buying that instead of what I had been looking for in the first place.

I've been working on that duck all week (on and off). Turns out counted cross-stitch is kind of like jigsaw puzzles - You have a picture on the "box", a blank canvas and a whole bunch of pieces with which to make the picture.

I haven't been very efficient, or very accurate, but I actually finished it. Not to sound melodramatic, but this is possibly the first time I've actually finished a crafty thing in my life.

And I want to do another one.

So, on the one hand, I'm all: "Yay! I've done a crafty thing! I can be crafty after all!", but at the same time I can't help but notice it's cross-stitch.

Cross-stitch is completely decorative. You don't use it to make anything useful. You can't cloth yourself with cross-stitch. You can't make blankets with cross-stitch. You can't mend socks or shoes with cross-stitch. All you can do is make pretty pictures.

I want a proper, useful, womanly skill that will enable me to be a constructive member of society after the Great Wipe takes out all modern technology and we have to go back to making things for ourselves. Heck, I'll even take one of those manly skills, if it means I'm good for something.

Sure, I can cook, but I can't fish or hunt, I can't recognise the difference between the poisonous berries and the good-eating berries in the wild, I can't raise chickens, I can't tan leather, I can't make furniture or build log houses... Heck, I even have trouble growing vegetables.

I want useful skills, goldern it! I'm not pretty enough to be this decorative!

On the other hand... I made a duck.

A Maze

For some years now I've harboured a dream to own a maze complex.

One day, when I'm rich enough to completely indulge in my own eccentricities, I'm going to buy up an old farm and install a couple of mazes. I'm thinking at least one hedge maze (maybe more) and one turf maze, although I'm also tempted to throw in a walled labyrinth as well.

In this complex I'll also have two model villages - one outside, and using real plants and grass to create the effect, and one model railway village inside the same building as the tea house.

Oh, yes, there's going to be a tea house. One that sells traditional Devonshire teas and coconut bread with home-made marmalade. And a plowman's lunch with a selection of cheeses and fresh damper. And maybe Neenish Tarts, because they amuse me.

And there'll be a formal garden, too. The number of mazes I put in will depend entirely on whether or not I have space for the garden. One of those gardens where different sections indulge in different themes, and taking a small detour off the path can lead to a pleasant surprise that you would otherwise have missed. The turf maze will probably be part of this garden.

There will be sculptures hidden all over the complex - birds, animals, characters from children's books and legends - and there will be a game involved. People coming to the maze will have to see if they can spot all of the statues, but they'll be given an incomplete spotter's list. People who find every single statue (bar one) - even the ones that aren't on the list - will get a free icecream from the tea house (home made, of course).

If you find all of the statues on the list, but not all (bar one) of the statues not listed, you'll get your icecream for half-price. And there will be one statue that's so hard to find that anyone who manages to get every single statue in the complex will have their name added to a plaque.

If there's any farmland left over, I'm going to convert part of it into an orchard (apples or oranges, depending on where I am) and let the other part go a bit feral so I can put in a small bush-walk.

I keep thinking about where I'll put this maze complex. For a while I thought it would be great to put it in Waratah in Tasmania. There are actually four maze complexes in Tasmania all ready (five, if you include the little one on Bruny Island), but none of them are on the western side of the state. And, we could probably engage in some sort of referral process. If you visit one maze, they'll encourage you to check out the others...

But while Waratah has always fascinated me, and I think something like this maze would be good for the town, I've always felt it was a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Somewhere closer to Wynyard, perhaps, like Flowerdale, would be more comfortable.

By the way, if you ever go to Tasmania, I thoroughly recommend the Tasmazia complex (inland from Devonport) and the Glengarry Bush Maze (a drive out from Launceston).

My other thought was to put it in north Queensland - specifically somewhere near Paronella Park. The idea being that people vising the Mena Creek/South Johnstone area could spend the morning at the maze and the afternoon at the Park (or vice-versa). I had toyed with the idea of putting it in Germantown because "Germantown Maze" sounds cool, and my model village could be based in Bavaria (which would also be cool).

But it turns out Germantown doesn't exist as much as it could. And, once again, the Mena Creek/South Johnstone area is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. I mean, the closest town is Innisfail, and it takes hours to get anywhere in North Queensland. I'd be better off in Tasmania.

So, at the moment, I'm thinking maybe Viljandi, in Estonia. I haven't spent long in Viljandi, so I may change my mind once I spend more time there, but I didn't mind the place, it's close to pretty much every other town/city in the country (compared to Australian distances), there's a nice lake and I think I'd be the only massive maze complex in the country, which would make it a pretty unique tourist attraction.

I could see a future where the top tourist attractions in Estonia are the Old Town in Tallinn, the Open Air Museums and the Viljandi Mazes.

The only problem with moving my maze concept to Estonia is that it might mess with my mother's retirement plan. In recent years she's gone from "Yeah, yeah. Maze. Whatever" to "I could sell tickets in the tea house". Which could be handy, actually, as it means we could take turns minding the maze while the other one goes off somewhere for the weekend, or something.

But she has previously expressed extreme indifference in the idea of even visiting me, should I move to Europe, so I'm guessing she won't want to shift to Viljandi to run the tea house.

Squashed between two camels

At some point in my youth I heard someone sing a spoof of the song "Torn Between Two Lovers", replacing the keywords of that phrase with "Squashed Between Two Camels".

To whit:

Squashed between two camels,
Feeling like a fool...

I can't remember if there was ever any more to the song than that, but ever since then whenever I feel "torn between two" options, I find myself wanting to sing that line of the song, and then it always ends up turning into the camels.

I am currently torn between two bicycles: The Brompton and the Bike Friday New World Traveller (BF-NWT).

They are both at the top of the game, both have great reviews and they each have great advantages that the other one doesn't have.

Here's what I'm stuck on:

I have a trip to Europe in mind, and I would like to be able to take the bike with me. I want the bike to be easily and readily transportable by plane, train and bus, but also capable of a spot of self-contained touring.

That is, I want to be able to fly into a country, unpack the bike, take everything I need on or with the bike to my hotel if I want to, or just shove everything in the back of a taxi if I prefer. I then want to be able to carry everything on the bike to the next town over, if the next town is less than 100km away (my preferred distance for a day's ride is half that), or pack everything up and take a train if the next town I'm going to is longer, or if I'm in a hurry.

Now, in terms of self-contained touring, the BF-NWT looks like it's at the top of the game. It's clearly designed for such things, it looks sturdy and it has nice fat tyres and plenty of braze-ons for bits and bobs and bags. It also has the ability to be packed in a custom-made trunk which can be converted into a trailer.

You pack the bike in the trunk, put it on the plane (or whatever), unpack it at the other end, convert the trunk into a trailer and attached it to the bike, then shove your luggage into the trailer and ride off.

Sounds great, except that you have to disassemble the bike every time you want to pack it. And the fold isn't that great. It folds a bit, but not as well as the Brompton.

The Brompton, on the other hand, is largely heralded as one of the best designed folding bikes in the world - and it looks it. It has a fantastic fold - and you just put it in the bag as is. This greatly appeals to me, as it means there's less I can stuff up. All I have to do is fold the bike exactly how you are supposed to fold it and put it away. I don't have to keep track of parts, I don't have to worry about putting something together the wrong way...

While I've always been fond of assembling things (I couldn't help myself when the penny-farthing arrived - I had to put it together myself even though I had intended to let professionals do it), I can't shake the feeling that having someone with my level of dexterity continually assemble and disassemble something in a variety of unfamiliar locations is just asking for trouble.

Plus, it does add time to preparing for things like boarding a train or a bus. The Brompton just seems much better suited to riding up to the train station and hopping more-or-less directly onto the train...

So, while the Bike Friday looks like the better touring bike, the Brompton looks like the better travelling bike. I'm just completely hung up on that point - If I could fold the BF-NWT more effectively and put it in the travel case without having to take it apart every single time.

So, effectively, both bikes tick boxes that I want - they just don't tick all the same boxes.

So darn hard. Seriously, why can't someone just combine the two?

Or Maybe a Bike Friday...

Dammit!

You should never research your options. Then you just become paralysed by choice.

Brompton folds beautifully. Bike Friday seems to do the touring thing better than most.

Why can't one company just offer me everything I want in one convenient package?