Mon oncle Edmond.


#100BM Day 59

A friend’s son is on his way to Nepal (eventually) with a DART team, and is for now awaiting instructions at a base in Germany.

Said friend told he hoped that his son at least got to go off-base while shit’s getting sorted out, because he’s in Cologne and there must be stuff to see and do.


I took German in high school and ever since then, I have never called it Cologne, or thought of it as that either. I found it jarring to hear the word, but said nothing, lest someone ELSE think I’m a pretentious dickbag.

But it’s fucking Köln, OK? Gawd.

I’m not a great writer, and I am seriously poor understander of grammar rather often. However, I favoured British spelling from an early age because I wanted to be Will Stanton or Adrian Mole or Winnie the Pooh, but, over time, I’ve been subconsciously been phasing it out a bit (again, pretentious dickbag), though not enough that I don’t have anything I write for work handed back without at least one ‘s’ replaced with a ‘z’. I should be able to write ‘analyze’ in the more suitable-to-North-America spelling, but I’m Bartlebying the hell out of it.

It’s weird how predilections like that can be instilled in someone when they are young. What never really took language-wise were the weird-ass Quebecois vernacular/Bill 101 weirdness that seeped into French Immersion programs (IN ONTARIO)when I was a kid. For example, on barbecue days near the end of the school year, one could order a ‘chien chaud’ or a ‘hambourgeois’. These are not terms used in France. These should not be terms. I knew that pretty much instantly. I remember them, but would not be caught dead using them. But I’m struggling to recall the other ridiculous expressions that we learned and then forgot that aren’t really French either. Something about stationnement vs. le parking or similar, maybe? Do any of y’all have better memories about this than I do?

I can, however, remember the French word for ‘handlebar’, though. Guidon. Because it was kind of like a one-time across-the-hall teacher’s name, Mme. Guindon.

If only I could harness my brain’s power to remember more things that might actually be necessary in my life one day.

Also, here is Stephen Fry about strange bits of English that have popped up in France (starts at 13:27).

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