Tag Archives: Words the Romans Gave Us

Doxxing

Hello,

I’m extending an extra welcome to the new readers who joined wordfoolery this week, feel free to join in on the comments. This week’s word is doxxing. It’s been on my “to write about” list for a while now so I’m unsure where I came across it, but I know I originally thought it had to be an old Dublin insult, akin to pox bottle.

Security is key

Doxxing is negative, but not in that way. It’s a pretty recent word, with earliest usage being 2009, although the practice probably dates back to the 1990s. It is defined (in Merriam Webster) as “to publicly identify or publish private information about (someone) especially as a form of punishment or revenge”. The etymology is simple – it’s a contraction of document dropping where the plural docs is pronounced dox.

Document itself comes from Latin originally – the verb docere meaning to teach or show.

Doxxing is unpleasant for the victim in all cases but can be highly dangerous, as when the home addresses of police officers are revealed, for example. High profile victims of doxxing have included Beyoncé and Hilary Clinton. Surprisingly the unearthing and publishing of tax numbers, private phone numbers, and details about offspring is often legal. The use of the information once it is out “in the wild” online is much more dubious.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

 

Peregrinations and Wanderings

Hello,

At home for the foreseeable future, I glance at my hiking folder. Packed with routes torn from magazines, downloaded from tourist sites, and constructed from my map shelf, it’s a temptation I must resist for a while but planning future peregrinations will become a hobby soon, I think.

Saint Kevin’s pilgrim path to Glendalough, Wicklow, Ireland

A peregrination is a long or meandering journey, the sort Frodo and Sam took from the Shire in “The Lord of the Rings” books, and definitely further than the 2km radius I am currently allowed. Thankfully etymology, seeking the historic roots of words, encourages time travel and that’s not forbidden.

Peregrination entered English in the late 1500s from the Latin word pergrinatus (to travel aboard, to wander). Peregrinus was used as the Latin for a foreigner or pilgrim, a fact I’m sure Tolkien, a Oxford University linguistics professor, knew when he named one of the traveling hobbits Peregrin Took (Pippin to his friends).

Foreign, in the case of peregrination, comes from the Latin adverb peregre, meaning from outside Roman territory. Technically I guess than means if you want to peregrinate you need to do so outside the lands conquered by Rome. As Ireland escaped that particular fate, my hiking routes folder is filled with peregrination options ready to tempt me as soon as I can expand my world again. In the meantime perhaps I’ll join a quartet of hobbits on their voyages instead.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. apologies for the missing post last week. I was unwell.

Loathing Expergefactors

Hello,

This week’s word is an old one I stumbled across a few months ago – an expergefactor. It sounds like a gruesome remedy for a stomach ailment, doesn’t it? In fact, it’s worse than that.

An expergefactor is something which wakes you in the morning. This can range from your alarm clock to next door’s cat, the beep of your phone or the rattle of your letterbox. If you’re very lucky it will be a kiss from a loved one. Unfortunately the history of the expergefactor is shrouded in a sleepy mist. It dates to the 1800s but I can’t find an official etymology for it despite it appearing on several lists of Old English Words deserving a comeback. The closest I came to it is that factor is something which serves a purpose – a corn factor deals in corn, for example. The related verb Expergefaction probably comes from the Latin verb expergisci meaning to become awake.

How you feel about your expergefactor will be determined by a combination of elements including: the volume of disturbance, the time of day, the time you fell asleep, and whether you can now gently arise and eat a leisurely breakfast while reading your book, or you have to scramble around for food while convincing reluctant small people to find their shoes before school.

My least favourite expergefactor was a cockerel at Knockree Youth Hostel on a teenage hiking trip. He decided that despite the fact that we had talked until one in the morning it would be appropriate to perch outside our windows and repeatedly yodel at four a.m.. I recently re-visited the hostel with my son on a similar trip and was relieved to find the cockerel was no more. I suspect a disgruntled hiker ate him for dinner.

In writing about this word I’ve realised that I am now a redundant expergefactor. I used to wake my son, an easy task as merely opening the door was enough to have him bounce out of bed. He’s a morning person. Now he relies on Alexa and listens to the news headlines before rising. Waking my daughter was trickier. She, like me, was not a morning person and had to be coaxed and cajoled from her slumber with hugs and gentle chatter. Now she relies on her old-fashioned alarm clock and regularly has eaten her breakfast before I drag myself from the duvet. If this redundancy means I enjoy an extra ten minutes in bed before my expergefactor rouses me, I’m fine with it.

Who or what is your expergefactor?

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. I was delighted to be the feature interview over at Smart Thinking Books this week, a publication about nonfiction books.

 

Ineffable

Hello,

This week’s word is ineffable, a word which I use in conversation, usually when talking about somebody being ineffably cool, but didn’t fully understand until I delved into it today.

So let’s start with a definition – ineffable is an adjective to describe “that which is too great or extreme to be expressed in words”. It is also “that which must not be uttered”. The second meaning was the one that flummoxed me. I had no idea that ineffability had an association with taboos. Oh and in case you’re not sure – here’s the pronunciation audio.

Ineffably elegant telephone kiosk in Stockholm which would display ineffable trousers – the scandal!

Ineffable is one the Romans gave us and has been in English since the late 1300s when it arrived with the meaning of something being too great for words. It traveled via Old French (ineffable) and ultimately from Latin ineffabilis (unutterable) which was compounded from in (not, opposite as used in inimitable, for example) and effabilis (speakable). Effabilis itself was formed from effari (to utter) whose roots are in fari (to speak).

The taboo sense of ineffable arrived in the late 1500s, but it was the 1800s which had the most fun with the word and its meaning. In the 1820s, if you referred to ineffables you were talking about trousers. Yes, really.

Certain parts of British society at that time period (before Queen Victoria ascended the throne in 1837, but not exactly the most progressive time all the same) would have been prudish so calling trousers unspeakable is far from remarkable. Perhaps the most popular version of such over the top modesty was the idea of table and piano legs being covered so scandalous legs wouldn’t been seen or mentioned, but sadly that’s not really true. If you’d like more info on that story I’ll direct you to Atlas Obscura’s excellent article.

Until next time beware of ineffable trousers,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

Pandiculation

Hello,

Appropriately enough I’m writing my blog post this morning having risen early to get some words down before the rest of the house awakens. This week’s word, with thanks to the wonderful television medical series “House” (featuring Hugh Laurie as a brilliant and sarcastic but sociopathic diagnostician in the footsteps of Sherlock Holmes). They used pandiculation in an episode and sent me scurrying for my dictionary.

Pandiculation (audio pronunciation available here) is a “stretching and stiffening of the trunk and extremities when drowsy or after waking from sleep”. Basically if you yawn and stretch when you wake up, you’re pandiculating.

Yawn like a roman (sculpture at Ostia Antica, the old Roman harbour)

Pandiculation entered English in the 1600s from simple Latin roots. Pandiculari is the Latin for “to stretch oneself” thanks to pandere (to stretch or to spread). This is one the Romans gave us, as illustrated above.

Until next time happy reading, writing, wordfooling, and stretching,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

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Numinous

Hello,

Today’s word is numinous. I happened upon it in an article (“A Pilgrim in the City” by Clare Gogerty, author of “Beyond the Footpath”) in the June issue of Simple Things magazine this weekend. She described places of worship as being numinous, “a welcome respite from the hurly-burly of the city”. She’s right, of course. Such places can be a quiet oasis that’s much needed regardless of your beliefs, but what exactly does numinous mean?

Chapel ceiling in Christchurch cathedral, Dublin

Numinous (pronunciation here) has three related meanings. The first is supernatural or mysterious – a ghost sighting might be numinous. The second is of a place which is filled with a sense of the divine presence. The third is something appealing to the higher emotions or aesthetic sense. So although places of worship may be numinous it can equally be applied to a beautiful space in nature or an elegant piece of secular architecture. I would argue that a sense of wonder is what links all three. The chapel pictured above is numinous in all senses, I think.

The origin of numinous lies in Latin. Numinous entered English around 1640 to mean “divine or spiritual” from the Latin word numen (divine will). Numen is more accurately translated as divine approval as indicated by the nod of a head because numen comes from nuere the verb to nod. So if something is numinous it has “the nod” direct from God apparently.

Do you have a numinous space somewhere in your world? I hope you enjoy it this week.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

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Cunctator

Hello,

Today’s word is cunctator which I tripped over online this week and felt was fitting for a week where all the political talk in Britain and Europe is about postponements.

Like many others I can be a world class procrastinator. I can even put off procrastinating for another day, but I hadn’t realised I’m also a cunctator (pronunciation available here, be careful with how you say it!). I’m guessing the reason the word has fallen from regular use is thanks to its rather tricky pronunciation.

So what is a cunctator? They are one who puts off tasks, typically from sheer laziness.

Detail of a carving at Rome

The most famous cunctator of all was the Roman statesman and general Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus  (c. 280-203 B.C.) whose overly cautious military tactics against Hannibal and the Carthaginians during the Second Punic War (c. 200 B.C.) earned him the nickname which is the Latin for delayer. He attacked supply lines and made small attacks on favourable ground against the famous commander with much larger numbers. In this he is now seen as an originator of the tactics of guerrilla warfare. His strategy was undermined by his younger officers but gained him respect from Hannibal. You can read more, if you’re curious over at Wikipedia.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and prompt wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)