Tag Archives: words

Frottage in an artist’s story

Hello,

This week’s word is frottage and it comes from an example of good writing. I’ve been re-reading the Outlander series of novels by Diana Gabaldon recently and came across frottage as a chapter title in “Written in my Own Heart’s Blood”.

I expected the term to be explained during the chapter, but instead one character asks another if they know what frottage means but doesn’t provide a definition. Naturally that was too tempting to me and I scurried off to the dictionary.

Frottage (pronunciation here) has two meanings. The first is an art technique where you rub a pencil or crayon over paper which covers an object – it’s a simple way of taking a textural copy of an item such as a leaf, relief carving or coin – I would have known it under the alternate expression – taking a brass rubbing. The second meaning is when somebody gains sexual gratification by rubbing against another person or object.

frottage

Frottage of a clam shell

The use of frottage in the novel was good writing in two ways as well. First the writer encouraged me to expand my vocabulary and second the writer used a simple word to show me more about the character, Brianna.

She’s speaking to her husband, in bed, and joking about their small daughter who is snuggling up to them being engaged in frottage because their bed is so cramped. But Brianna is also an artist and undoubtedly knows the term in that context too, so it adds depth to a simple throwaway remark in a small scene. Maybe not every reader will notice it, but anybody with an art background will, and it will add to their enjoyment of the scene.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace

 

Why are prisons called Bridewells?

Hello,

I’m just back from Clifden, Connemara. As a history buff I enjoyed reading the information notices around the town. One explained that the rather hulking ruin towering over the town’s Ardbear Bridge was the town’s bridewell. It housed prisoners from the 1800s up to 1923. I didn’t fancy staying the night in it but it did make me wonder why prisons are sometimes called bridewells.

My travelling companion suggested, tongue firmly in cheek, that the prisoners’ brides welled up with tears outside the walls of the jail and it does have a loose connection to brides, but not in that way.

The OED tells me that bridewell is a mid 16th century term for a petty offender’s prison and it was named after St. Bride’s Well, in the City of London, which was near such a building. No less an authority than the Liverpool Police Website expanded on this information by explaining that any police station with cells may be called a bridewell. More than that, the term has a connection the many wives of Henry VIII, King of England.

Henry was using the Palace of Westminster as his residence until it was destroyed by fire. His then friend Cardinal Wolsey offered him the use of St. Bride’s Well Palace, his bishop’s palace built near modern-day Fleet Street. The king accepted. All was well until the Papal Nuncio decreed only the Vatican could rule on the issue of annuling Henry’s marriage to Cathering of Aragon (his first wife whom he was trying to dump in favour of Ann Boleyn). Henry, and his court, left the bishop’s palace in a fit of anger and it fell into disrepair and disrepute.

Tower of London - royal palace and former prison

Tower of London – royal palace and former prison

Over time the Saint part of the name was dropped and the buildings became a prison. The term spread throughout Britain and Ireland.

Wolsey fell out of favour with Henry over the the slow legal proceedings and was on his way to prison, the Tower of London rather than the Bridewell, when he died.

This left me with one more question – who was St. Bride? I guessed, correctly that she was St. Brigid, a well-known Irish saint. Her church, one in a long line of churches on the same spot, still stands on Fleet Street today. I could speculate about why the home of London’s journalists needs a prison and a church…

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace

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Cerulean Blue

cerulean blue and solar panel

cerulean blue and solar panel

I love blue, it’s been my favourite colour since I finally outgrew the girlish pink/red obsession. If you peaked into my wardrobe, nearly every hanger would display some shade of blue. Before I realised that my lack of sea-legs would end my ambition to own a yacht (just a small one, I wasn’t greedy) I had planned to call her “Indigo Dream”, another nod towards the blue palette. But if I were pushed to name my favourite shade, it would have to be cerulean blue.

I paint watercolours for my own enjoyment (when I get time, which is rare) and trust me, the cerulean section of my paintbox is used up faster than nearly any other colour. There’s something about the bright, clear, freedom of a blue sky overhead that makes the spirits soar and today, thank goodness, is the fourth day in a row that I’ve had it sparkling above me. Which is particularly useful as we finally got out our solar panels fitted last Friday and now have very hot water in our taps for free 24 hours a day. Admittedly it will be eight-ten years in paying for itself despite the government grant, and it will only yield about 80% of our hot water on overcast days in winter, but I just love it and it should give us hot water for free for up to 30 years. If you’re in Ireland, I would be happy to recommend The Energy Centre for the work. They started at 8am, took no tea breaks (shock!), cleaned up perfectly after themselves and were gone by 4.15 in the afternoon. One of them even re-stacked my linens in the airing cupboard after the work was done.

As for cerulean, well, it’s a beautiful word, perhaps not as wonderful as the colour it describes but it does its best, and why should any writer use “blue” in a description when they could use “cerulean” or even “sky-blue”? Beautiful words should be used and saved from vocabulary oblivion in my opinion. There’s no need to scatter them about like confetti, but let’s not allow them to fade into oblivion either, ok?

I’m going to be taking a closer look at some other painter terms over the next few posts as I think they lend great depth to writing and descriptions without being too obtuse for the average reader to understand. But, remember, and this is for my mother who always claimed it was red, cerise is a bright shade of pink, ok? Not red!!! If you’re not sure on any colour, go to your local art-shop and ask or check out the fanciful shade-names on colour cards for interior paints.

Happy writing, Grace

Contraption

It’s official, I am braingwashing my son. But in a good way, honest. He came dancing into the kitchen yesterday to show me a convoluted creation made from K’nex (the pieces are less irritating to walk on than Lego, plus I’m not ready to share my Lego stash just yet!). “Look Mammy, do you like my contraption?”

My heart nearly burst with pride. Not only had he designed a fantastic device for some imaginative use known only to himself and the cast of a thousand heroes and villains which populate his games and dreams, but he was using one of my favourite words. It made up (partly) for all the times he has interrupted the narrative flow of my writing to ask for a drink / my instant attention / permission to sit on my knee and bash the keyboard. He’s five and half years old. I think contraption is fairly advanced word-usage for that age, right? Mind you we did have a bet going on with my now late father-in-law when my son was two, that he was the best talker ever in the world (hey, he’s my first child, I am allowed preen a little). Tom said he’d only believe that when junior could say “Constantinople”. We turned to Daniel and said “say Istanbul, Daniel”…and he did.

But what of contraptions? According to my dictionary they are over-elaborate, eccentric gadgets. No wonder I love the word, I also love what they describe. It’s no coincidence that I obsessed with Lego as a child and worked in computers for over a decade. I didn’t watch much of the TV series “McGiver” [sic?] but I yearn to create intricate machines for obscure jobs with just a paperclip, a paper bag, and a piece of string.

I am a gadget girl and I’m proud of it. We all know men who obsess about the latest gizmo, or contraption, but let me tell you, there are girls out there with the latest ingenious device too and one of them is my mother. She couldn’t pass a cookware shop without purchasing a bizarre piece of equipment to slices avocados or core apples, or launch rockets to the moon (ok the first one was made up). She’d adore my latest contraption – a silicone poaching pod for poaching perfect eggs into an ordinary saucepan, perfect for a house where I am the only poached-egg-eater (available from Lakeland in the UK). And if green silicone bras ever come into fashion I’ll be glad it came in a two-pack. Now that would be a contraption to make my son, and my mother, proud.

A new word for tired

It has been busy around here this week, I’ve been forced into revising my writing plans both for this month and for the entire year due to sheer tiredness and my old friend, over-commitment-ness. Ok I am sure there’s a better word for that one, but you know what I mean! Forces outside my control are limiting my writing time and leaving me in a tizzy about meeting deadlines I had set for myself on my novel. So I’ve redrafted the plan and given myself the last week in April off in the hope that it will ease the stress and bring me back to my writing desk renewed.

But the tiredness did remind me of a word I love, admittedly in a foreign language. First of all, the local word for being tired beyond belief is knackered, not a pretty word with it’s overtones of a horse being brought for slaughter at the end of its useful life (the knacker’s yard boiled them down for glue, God help them), but I prefer crevee from French. So right now I am “complement crevee”. I always visualise a woman in a heap at the bottom of a crevasse when I use that word, simply unable to summon the strength to climb up again.

Thankfully I am not that bad, and having the courage to re-draw my plans will hopefully stave it off. Here’s to flexibility in writing plans. A plan is a great thing, but ultimately a writer works for themselves and should be allowed a little time off now and then to reboot their creative energies.

Happy writing,

Grace