Spelling: -sha   I spoke earlier about Wooster being spelled just that way in Massachusetts, but still being spelled Worcester in England. This latter spelling was last accurate some centuries ago. (Also Hartford, Connecticut vs Hertford, England.)

The word "shire", referring to an administrative district surrounding a city, is very interesting. It is pronounced as written when it stands alone, as when referring to the main city being the shire city. When you speak of the person traditionally in charge of a shire you combine "shire" and "-iff", and "shire" not only changes to "sherr-" to form "sherriff", but fortunately is also spelled that way.

But when "-shire" is attached to the end of a word as a suffix, it also changes, to "-sha", but unfortunately keeps its original spelling, so the unwary will be fooled. Nottingamsha is actually spelled Nottinghamshire. Could you imagine "sherriff" being spelled "shireiff".

The only practical way this would affect most people is when using Woostersha [three syllables] sauce. We have all heard people trying to say wor-ces-ter-shi-re [five syllables], since it is unfortunately spelled that way, but again, it was last pronounced that way centuries ago.

People are Nice   Bev and I must generate some kind of an aura. Pleasant things keep happening. At dinner one night at the Villa Cora in Florence a lady came up to tell us, in effect, that it looked like we fit together well. I asked her to sit down and we chatted for quite a while. She's an American who lives half-time in Florence.

When we got up to dance on the cobblestones of Aigues-Mortes we generated our usual smiles and winks from dancers and spectators. Same thing happened dancing last night in the Queen's Room.

On the British Pullman going to connect with the Orient Express, we got to know the train manager, Jeff Monk, and we chatted quite a bit and he supplied me with a route map. When we got on the same train to come to the ship in Southampton, he helped us get more suitable seats (side by side instead of opposite), we also chatted quite a bit, and he got me a route map again. After a while he came back and told me he just wanted to do something for us. What would we like? How about a bottle of champagne to take on the ship? (Actually, he was so ebullient he actually said "on the ferry".) I didn't want to take advantage of his hospitality, so I suggested we settle for two glasses of port to go with dessert.

We're at the Engineer's table again on the ship, which seats eight on a round table. It's such a convivial group of people that we tend to be the last table to leave. Alternating hosts are Chief Engineer John Hanvey and Staff [Deputy] Chief Engineer Simon Todd. The other night as we were leaving and I had just moved Bev to her chair, big, burly Simon suddenly leaned down to chair level and unexpectedly gave Bev a big smooch. It's that aura.

Buttwarmer Loo   There's a gents' loo, or a gents' lavat'ry, well, all right, it's a men's room, on the ship near the Mauretania dining room that's very oddly shaped. It's so shallow that, if someone is standing at the double sink, to get in you have to turn sideways and sidle in behind him. As you do this, you are guaranteed, I say guaranteed, to activate the electric eye on the electronic hand dryer behind you. So I call it the Buttwarmer Loo. Yesterday I was washing my hands there and an elderly gentleman was sidling in behind me (WHOOSH!) when he suddenly said "Am I in the ladies' room?" I said, no, what would I be doing there. Then he said he was legally blind and saw the long hair. In other words the Buttwarmer Loo caused him to get a limited-vision closeup view of my pony tail. Stop laughing.

Celebrities   This crossing is billed as a Family crossing, which is code for "It's kiddie time". There are fewer interesting programs and lectures since there are a lot more kid's things going on. But I spotted one thing on the children's list that we went to see just a bit of.

You may remember the late Shari Lewis and her hand puppet Lamb Chop. I always admired her work and thought it was of real quality. I was very glad to see that her daughter Mallory Lewis has taken over the act, and was performing here, so we watched a few minutes of it. The kids loved it. We were at a presentation about Radio City Music Hall today, and before it started, Mallory came in and happened to sit down next to us in the audience, so we chatted. I was surprised to hear that her mother died as long ago as four years, but was glad to hear that Mallory does works frequently and is expecting to get a series on PBS.

We have enjoyed the mysteries of Susan Isaacs since "Compromising Positions" in the late 1970's, although we haven't kept up with her most recent ones. She also did the screen play for the film with Susan Sarandon. I knew what Susan Isaacs looked like, knew she was born in Brooklyn as I was, that she went to Queens College as I did, and that she lived on Long Island. I since found out that all her novels have been on the NY Times best seller list, some have been selections of the Book of the Month Club, and that she's past president of Mystery Writers of America. She is guest literary lecturer on board this trip and will give three lectures.

We were on the way yesterday to her first lecture. When the elevator arrived, there were two people in the back, so as I backed the chair in, I gave a hand wave to please step further in. Of course, when I looked up, I saw Susan Isaacs with her lecture notes pushed up against her chest. I came back with "Well, hel-LO!!!" (I'm real fast with repartee.) Chat-chat-Brooklyn-chat-chat-Queens College. Later, before the lecture, I asked if she'd like to shake Bev's hand (and mine, you know my shameless ploys). I told her Bev had shaken hands with Julia Child and John Cleese on previous voyages, so she said she was glad she was in good company.

Goats   Keep in mind three words for "goat". In Italian (and I think Latin) it's capra. (Think of the film director Frank Capra.) In Spanish it's cabra. And in French it's chèvre. If you think the French one doesn't look as much like the other two, just accept that it's the same, except French tends to show more changes than the others.

There is a characteristic of goats that we don't talk about too much nowadays, undoubtedly because so few of us keep goats at home. Apparently goats, especially young ones, when prancing in the fields, will occasionally give a wild, unexpected, and joyous leap in the air, just for the fun of it.

That leaping characteristic of goats, plus the Latinate words for goat, give us the word caprice, and sure enough, when you think about it, if you do something capriciously, it's done on a whim and just for the fun of it.

The goat's leap also results in the name of a ballet step called a cabriole.

However, what I find most interesting is the invention some centures of a kind of carriage called a cabriolet. Although I don't know exactly what it looked like, I can only assume that it might have been a "sports car" of it's day, that just bounced along for the fun of it, hence the reference to goats.

But apparently these cabriolets must have eventually been used commercially, because they became taxicabriolets, shortened to taxicab, and continued to be applied after the carriages were replaced with cars. Today we almost never use the word taxicab. We shorten it further to either taxi or cab, but rarely both. So if someone says he took a cab to the station, can you see an image of riding a goat?

Now go back and take another look at the French word for goat. It is not a huge stretch of the imagination to realize that a French version of cabriolet developed as chevrolet. This French form seems to have entered English only as a brand name of a car. We often shorten Chevrolet, as a brand name, to Chevy.

If a taxi driver says he has a Chevy cab, is that a goaty-goat? We also shorten Chevrolet even more to Chev. If he says "My cab is a Chev" is he saying "My goat is a goat?"

Novum Eboracum   I am conducting a war against Latinizing obfuscators. Let me tell you what I mean. A few years ago there were those joke signs that didn't practice what they preached. The best-known one was: PLAN AHead. But my favorite was: ESCHEW OBFUSCATION. I didn't know what the words meant either, so I ran to the dictionary. I thought it was kind of cute. It means "AVOID UNCLARITY".

I since haven't had much use for "eschew" (you don't want to eschew your food), but I have gotten to like the idea of obfuscation and obfuscators. A politician who talks and says nothing is obfuscating. The movement to Plain English in contracts and warrantees is based based on the obfuscation of the legalese that was otherwise used.

I am not a supporter of dead languages, but that is another argument. I do have respect for what place names used to be if they happened to be named in Latin when the Romans were there to do it. I think it's interesting that London was founded as Londinium and that Milano/Milan was Mediolanum ("Midplains"). What I resent is the Latinizers of more recent times, who felt it necessary to obfuscate names that would otherwise have been pleasantly clear.

Examples are rarer in Europe than in North America, but one that comes to mind is a town on the west coast of England, near Bristol. Now, some towns like to clarify where they are, like Hastings-on-Hudson, or Henley-on-Thames. Some in England add "by Sea" or "on Sea". The town I am referring to might have been called Weston-on-Sea, but it ended up as Weston super Mare. What a load to carry. This is an example of latinizing obfuscation. How many people know, because of its name that Weston is on the sea? Actually "Mare" is pronounced "MA-ray" in both Latin and Italian, but everyone who knows about Weston pronounces "Mare" as though it were a female horse, which makes it even more ridiculous. Do you suppose there could be anyone who might think that Weston super Mare might mean that Weston is a great racehorse?

But the latinizing obfuscators had their greatest opportunities giving new names in North America, and my all-time favorite example is New Scotland.

If you don't know that there is a place in Canada named after Scotland, then the obfuscators have succeeded. In German it's Neu-Schottland, so they know. In French it's Nouvelle-Écosse, so they know. In Spanish it's Nueva Escocia, so they know. Just English speakers are deprived, because the Latinizers struck and named New Scotland only in English usage in Latin. It's Nova Scotia. Maybe you did know that, but I think the vast majority of visitors go to Nova Scotia and are amazed that they have Highland Games Festivals and that half the population is named MacGregor and McLeod. But even after they see the Scottish heritage, I'll bet they still don't know that Nova Scotia means New Scotland. I say the obfuscators won.

One place they did not win is New York. I'm not saying that there was ever any movement to give New York a Latin name, but the Latinizers did manage to attack when it came to the Seal of the City of New York, because there, New York is called Novum Eboracum.

Since there were no Romans running around New York when it was founded, all I can assume is that the Latinizers referred back to York in England, which was around in Roman times, and built on its name, Eboracum. If that name startles you, figure that in time the ending was lost, leaving Eborac, then the B and A were lost, leaving Eorc, and that's not too far a leap to York.

But think what might have been.

And that’s the sort of thing that happened to poor New Scotland.

The Quakers have always been simple people. When William Penn founded his colony on the west bank of the Delaware River, he referred to it as Penn's Woods. That name would have been pleasently clear, or, who knows, it could have developed to something like Pennwood.

But no, the obfuscators struck. The Latin for "woods" or "forest" is "sylva" as in the word sylvan or the name Sylvia, so they twisted Penn's Woods into Pennsylvania. Does anyone see a forest when they say Pennsylvania? Then the obfuscators have won. Even worse, the word is hard to pronounce, and almost everyone changes "syl" to "sa" and calls it Pennsa Vania.

One last one. It's bad enough when the Latinizing obfuscators know what they're doing. But sometimes they don't. In Northern Minnesota, Lake Itasca is the source of the Mississippi River. (It has also become a brand name for mobile homes.) It was named by some whiz who wanted to call it the "true source", but in Latin. From the Latin word "veritas" he took the last four letters. From the Latin word "caput" he took the first two letters, and formed "Itasca".

"Veritas", famously the motto of Harvard, means "truth". "Caput" means "head". So this genius, instead of saying "true source" said "truth head". And now we're stuck with the name.

And what would the good people over the river in Brooklynium say? Fahgeddaboudit....um.

Invitations   Last night we got an invitation for the reception in the Ward Room again before dinner, and we're about to get dressed to go. Just as I finished writing the previous piece, there was another invitation under the door. It seems that the above-mentioned John Hanvey, Chief Engineer, requests the pleasure of our company for cocktails in his quarters tomorrow before dinner. That was very nice of him. We've never been to a reception in an officer's quarters.

We heard in the Ward Room this evening that the present Master of the QE2, Captain Warrick (spelled Warwick) has been named Master of the QM2. Chief Engineer John Hanvey told us he feels very certain that Staff Chief Engineer Simon Todd is sure to be named Chief Engineer of the QM2. We'll see. The Ward Room is a kind of officer's club and is a good-sized space for a reception.

To go to the reception in the Chief Engineer's quarters a flight of stairs blocked the way, so they arranged for a steward to pick us up and escort us on an easier route. We got to go through the Queen's Grill Lounge (looks very ritzy), which is otherwise off limits to passengers not dining in the Queen's Grill, and then we took a zigzag path up and down corridors. At one point going down a hall a gentleman in a tux showed up behind us with a semi-familiar face and white hair going in every which way. His hair reminded me of a feather bonnet. At any rate, a steward zipped him thru a kitchen to get ahead of the wheelchair.

The Chief Engineer's reception was crowded. There were maybe 40-50 people in what would be a living room in John Hanvey's quarters. Three people we spoke to had received duplicate invitations, to this and to the Captain's reception down the hall (we don't rate enough yet). And, they mentioned, you know David Bowie's at the Captain's reception.

Well, Bowie had been on our crossing last month to Southampton, and we hadn't seen him, and now he had the good taste to join us going back to New York. So now, on this trip, we not only shooed Susan Isaacs to the back of the elevator, we also slowed David Bowie down from getting to the Captain's reception. That's what you call real smoooooth work.

I cornered someone who had been invited to the Captain's party to bring me over there. Bev was blockaded in the corner of the Engineer's party, so I let her stay there. Bowie was chatting away with some people at the entrance. No conversation, no handshake, he's a passenger and deserves his privacy. The Captain's room was considerably larger, and panelled. We did say hello to the Captain's wife, and I mentioned I was just visiting from across the hall. I resisted the temptation to say I was slumming.

When the Engineer's party was over and it was time to go to dinner, I mentioned the long route we'd taken to get there, so Queen Bev in her chair was carried down the nearby staircase by one of the Engineers, Luke, and none other than Staff Chief Engineer Simon Todd.

Dancing   Later in the evening we went dancing in the Yacht Club. We couldn't get a table on the edge of the dance floor, where it's easier to get Bev up to dance, so we were in the middle and did a few dances on the rug near our table (we can't resist "The Lady in Red").

The aura worked again. A lady we hadn't seen before was nice enough to come up to us and say "You guys are inspirational!" Then as we were leaving, a man we passed in a bright red military jacket reached over and gave me a double pat on the shoulder, then looked away. Men are famously more reticent than women. So I suppose our mission in life has become making people feel good.

On this trip there is a middle-aged couple at our table, and she had confided to me earlier that he had dry macular degeneration and almost couldn't see (which wasn't apparent to the rest of us). Then at the Engineer's party she said he had also said this would be the last major trip he would take. I urged her to talk him out of that idea, and said she should use Bev traveling with me as an example. I hope that works out for them.