The Joy of Lex, by Catriona

It's blogger's choice (Why does that make me thing of Rapper's Delight? Who knows.) and first up I need to credit Prof Katie Wales for the title. She was my boss at the University of Leeds in the late nineties and she was one of the bright spots in a grim few years. As soon as I saw her Mickey Mouse earrings and heard what she had called her book on lexicography, I knew she was a good'un.

Anyway, words were in my mind for two reasons over the last few days. First, I found out that the chemotherapy drug someone I care about is currently having shot into their body is called Retuximab. Isn't that a horrible word? Doesn't that just sound exactly like something that's going to make you as sick as a dog? My cat's medicine has got better names than that! Serenia, Solensia, fish oil capsul- okay maybe just the first two, but come on.

Serenia and Solensia allow Rachel to keep working
at her job of typing assistant

Then, on Facebook, Ben McPherson (no relation) asked what words in a person's vocabulary would ensure that they didn't get a second date with you. His was "distaff". Mine? Entrepreneur. Especially if it was pronounced "entreprenOOR". Yergh.

But, if this mythical first date didn't say "entrprenOOR" and the conversation carried on, I might well ask about favourite words and offer mine. There are lots. Some are in the "fun to say" category - flibbertigibbet, amoebic dysentry, diplodocus . . . When I called a minor character in the Last Ditch Motel series "Amaranth Aaranovitch", I made sure that all the other characters said it a lot, just for the frilly feeling they get in their mouths. Try it now. I bet you say it more than once.  

Amaranth Aaranovitch has a great 
scene in this one

Then there are the beautiful words. I've got a lot of time for elbow but my hands-down favourite is oak. With some conditions. It's got to have a monophthongal vowel (i.e. sounds the same all way through) not a diphthong, so not "owk" or "ewk", and the consonant should be chalky, not clicky. I just listened to all 48 hours of Barbra Streisand's memoir on Audible (Hooo boy, she can settle a score!) and at least half the enjoyment came from the fact that she was reading it, Brooklyn accent intact after decades on the West Coast and the chalkiest Ks I've ever heard. Bliss.

I learned a lot of new Yiddish too, since there were numerous concepts Barbra reckoned English didn't have a word for. I know the feeling. I've put a Scottish glossary in IN PLACE OF FEAR, since there are indeed untranstable meanings. One of them is also one of my favourite "fun to say" words: perjink. (Stress on the second syllable, by the way - perJINK). It's an adjective that means . . . natty, not exactly dainty, sort of well-ordered and almost smug with it but not quite. I was convinced everyone would understand it without explanation. Thank God my editor is English.

Helen looks gey perjink here.

Mind you, there are words that symbolise their meanings in a very direct way. I checked out a hunch about one mere days ago, when I asked Neil (of the arm, above) whether he had ever come across the word munter. He hadn't. I told him it pertained to level of attractiveness in a human - as in "I went on a blind date. She turned out to be a munter." - and asked him if he thought it was positive or negative. He got it right. I bet you will too. Isn't that interesting?

Or maybe it's just me. I know I've been fascinated by words pretty much since I learned to talk. When I was a tiny wee girl, ny answer to "What do you want to be when you grow up?" was procurator fiscal. Now, I had no clue what one of those was (it's the name for a Scottish public prosecutor), so really what I was getting at was that I wanted to be a linguist. Possibly a writer. And that all worked out quite well in the end, even though a job needs more than a boss with puns and cute earrings.

I'd love to hear some of your favourite (or least favourite) words. Hit me!

Cx