Monday, September 30

 It's the end of September already: three-quarters of the year gone!  We woke early so are up, ready for the day.  I've been sitting with a cup of coffee, reading some of the nonsense on Quora, the US website where people with not enough to do write in looking for advice or just to share some of their bizarre life experiences.  Most of the correspondents are from the US and have a naivety which does no credit to the US educational system.

Sometimes a comment catches my attention, like this morning when I read this answer to a question:

Kobolds.  The answer is Kobolds (or Goblins, or any small, innocuous-looking humanoid that everybody kinda writes off after first level!) Why? Action economy.  You throw enough of these little bastards at your group ....

Extraordinary!  Unlike many of the offerings on Quora, this is literate and articulate (apart from 'kinda' which I can excuse as a frivolous usage). It's just that I don't understand a word of it.  The original question asked for advice on playing Dungeons and Dragons so I don't pretend to understand the context; I just think this is a fascinating example of how our language is evolving so fast that it's getting harder to keep up.

I'm so old-fashioned I still think in terms of functional grammatical expression, punctuation, accepted usage, agreed regional spelling concepts and so on.  And the world is passing me by.

Todays' story is from 2021.  There are no kobolds in it (nor goblins!)

HOUSE OF DREAMS

It had probably been built in the early-1900s; a gaunt Federation construction, two-storeys high, sitting firmly on the ground, and just beginning to show signs of the effects of a century of standing in this spot.  The bluestone foundations looked like they could withstand another century or two without any trouble.  The window-frames needed some attention but that was only cosmetic.  The verandah tiles in a Victorian pattern were attractive but needed some sealant, perhaps.  All manageable.

Sandra was the practical one and asked questions of the agent; like : ”When was the last time it had a building inspection?  Can we see the report?  Is there any evidence of white ants? Does it have internet access?”

“Does the bus come along this street?  Do you know if there has been any trouble with neighbours in the past?  Do they have trouble with roaming dogs or Argentine ants in this part of Melbourne?”

Emile was the dreamy one.  He thought of the wealthy merchant who had the house built for him and his bride all those years ago.  He thought of the labourers who toiled in the hot Melbourne sun, in their flannelette shirts and moleskin trousers to build this testament to the master’s success.  He thought of the maids and gardeners who were employed here; working for a pittance to serve the needs of their master.

He thought of the new bride, standing back, looking at the imposing structure, smelling the new paint, wondering whether she would be able to manage the day-to-day decisions she would be called upon to make.  Her husband had assured her the butler was more than capable of running the household but she knew she would have to show a firm hand.  Everyone knew that servants would quickly fall into laziness and dishonesty if they weren’t shown a firm hand early on.

Emile thought of the myriad tradesmen and delivery boys who brought the vast quantity of food and other provisions to keep the house running smoothly.  Did the butler make sure they received a tip for their trouble, or was he one of those snooty upstarts too aware of his own importance to think of the plight of others?

He wondered about the household staff.  What dreams did they have?  Did the young men have ambitions to marry and have families of their own and were they content with their lot?  Did World War 1 bring a sense of relief that here was an opportunity to break away from the mundane day-to-day routine of their lives and sign up to serve their country while, perhaps, seeing a bit of the world out there?

He was sure that the young women all had ambitions to marry but opportunities must have been limited.  Did they all have eyes for the handsome footman and resent his interest in the French au pair who was employed to look after the family’s children?  Perhaps, they sought ways to meet eligible young men, by ensuring they were in the kitchen when the grocer’s boy brought in the daily delivery.  A slightly-tilted cap or a flash of ankle might be enough to catch his attention.

He thought of the disappointment of the young women, getting older every year, wondering how their life would be without a husband.  If they behaved themselves and lived up to the expectations of their employer, they would be looked after but everyone knew that there was nothing more unwelcome than a frail servant. 

Emile’s thoughts were interrupted by Sandra’s voice, “Emile?  What do you think?  Is it too big, or can we make it work?  I love it and I’m itching to move in.  I’ll make that large room at the top of the stairs my sewing room and I’m sure you could make the garage into a great workshop.”

 Emile thought about the dreams that had been born in this house over the years and the many that had been fulfilled, bringing happiness in their wake.  He knew in his heart that this was a special house so he simply replied, “Yes, dear.  Whatever you think.”