Being an author is like being in charge of your own personal insane asylum.

- Graycie Harmon

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

And On It Goes

Well, you all pretty much know the drill by now.

I shall endeavour to write 3 000 words today. If I make it, and there's enough time left over, I shall be watching Qi as a reward.

As you can see, nothing has changed. Nothing, zip, zilch, nada, zero. You wonder why I write? Well, it's to save myself from soul-sucking boredom. That's why I write. Everyday I come into work. It's the most boring job in the world. Really, really, really dull.

So I make worlds to go have adventures in to whittle away the really, really, really dull hours. I've said this before, but, thank heavens for my imagination!

There really isn't anything exciting to report - life is ever much as it was - so here's your almost daily dose of Forgotten English.

Cumsloosh

A flatterer. To get a bit cumsloosh, to become poor or relatively so.
- Michael Traynor's English Dialect of Donegal, 1953

Did anyone else smirk when they read the word? Surely I can't be the only one?

No comments: