Crayola, the most famous brand of today's crayons, first produced their product in 1903.  According to the Crayola web site: The name Crayola was coined by Alice Binney, wife of company founder Edwin, and a former schoolteacher. She combined the words craie, which is French for "chalk", and ola, for oleaginous, because crayons are made from petroleum based paraffin. Prior to making paraffin-based crayons, Binney-Smith made dustless chalk (for school teachers) called chalk crayons, introducing that product in 1902. Incidentally, the carbon-arc lamps, which were once used on movie sets, used large graphite electrodes known as crayons.
 
G-string
Are you planning to wear one?  If so, you would be donning what was originally Native American garb.  The word was initially (1878) geestring, and it referred to what amounted to a loincloth held up by a string and worn by certain Indians.  Most etymologists think that 'geestringi' was probably originally an Indian word that was adopted in a form that was more familiar to English tongues.  The term doesn't appear with reference to showgirl costumes until 1936, but it was likely in use in that sense for some time prior to that date.  It was shortened to g-string, possibly by contamination from the notion of stringed instruments like guitars and violins, by 1891, at which time we find this interesting quotation in Harper's Magazine: "Some of the boys wore only 'G-strings' (as, for some reason, the breech-clout is commonly called on the prairie)".  This suggests that the word may have been of Sioux or other Plains Indian origin.
 
Glamour
Continuing along the same lines as the previous example. Do you think of someone who is glamorous as being good at grammar?  Usually we do not associate those two words [Well...I can think of one possible example...] However, ‘glamour’ is the Scots form of the word grammar!

 In earlier times grammar was often used as a synonym for Latin - a grammar school was originally a place where one learned Latin grammar.  Also, all church ritual was conducted in Latin - which most lay people could not understand.  It was assumed that if one could read Latin, one had access to the same power as that of the priests.  Thus the Middle English word 'gramarye' meant both "the rules of sentence formation" and "occult knowledge or necromancy" and the Old French gramaire, "grammar" became Modern French grimoire, "an encyclopaedia of spells and incantations".  The Scots 'glamour' originally meant a special kind of magical spell that caused its victims to misjudge reality.

The Scots pronounced it (and spelled it) glamour.  So a word that meant "magic, spell" then shifted in meaning to "magical or fictitious beauty", then shifted again to  "fashionably attractive", losing all connection with "magic".  Sir Walter Scott popularised the word in English in his writings of the early 19th century.

Cold Enough to Freeze the Balls Off a Brass Monkey!
Is still commonly used by sailors in extremely cold weather, the origin of the phrase has been largely forgotten.  And now, the rest of the story . . .

Virtually every sailing ship in the 1700-1800s had cannons for protection.  Cannons of the times required round iron cannonballs or ‘roundshot’. The Ship's Master usually wanted to store the cannonballs such that they could be of instant use when needed, yet not roll around the gun deck. The solution was to stack them up in a square-based pyramid next to the cannon.  The top level of the stack had one ball, the next level down had four, the next had nine, the next had sixteen, and so on. Four levels would provide a stack of 30 cannonballs.

The only real problem was how to keep the bottom level from sliding out from under the weight of the higher levels. To do this, they devised a small brass plate called, of course a brass monkey, with 16 round indentations, one for each cannonball, in the bottom layer.  Brass was used because the cannonballs wouldn't rust to the brass monkey, but would rust to an iron one. When temperature falls, brass contracts in size faster than iron. As it got cold on the gun decks, the indentations in the brass monkey would get smaller than the iron cannonballs they were holding. If the temperature got cold enough, the bottom layer would pop out of the indentations spilling the entire pyramid over the deck.

Thus it was, quite literally, 'Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey...'

In the 1960s I was having drink at the Caledonian Thistle pub with some university friends on a bitterly cold autumn night, and one of our party came in and announced that he had 'just met a monkey wandering down Diamond Street looking for a welder'. Very Scotch humour. However, Saffy has given us the real origin of this colourful expression.

The numbers 1, 4, 9, 16 etc are what the ancient Greek mathematicians called square numbers, because the units can be arranged in the form of a square. The numbers 1, 3, 6, 10 etc are the triangular numbers. A square can be formed by pushing together a larger and a smaller triangle, and the reader can see that the sum of two successive triangular numbers is always a square number. The Ancient Greeks interpreted all mathematics in terms of geometry.

Blue Bood
Meaning one of noble or royal pedigree. As you probably know, blood veins seen through fair skin look blue. Spanish nobility took pride in their fair skin, which indicated that they possessed no Moorish blood.   They therefore came to be referred to as 'sangre azul',  or "blue blood", to differentiate them from the swarthy Moors, or those Spaniards who had intermarried with the Moors.  The term caught on in Britain in the early 19th century, and probably arrived in America shortly thereafter.  It is first recorded in English in 1834.

Throw One's Hat into the Ring
As you might expect, it comes from the boxing ring. In the early 19th century, when boxing was quite popular, one who wished to challenge a boxer would throw his hat into the ring.  The crowds and noise at such events probably necessitated this; you'd be missed if you simply tried to shout out a challenge or push your way through the crowd and into the ring.  The phrase soon came to be used figuratively to mean "to enter a contest" and then "to enter a political contest".  Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt used it in 1912: "My hat's in the ring", he said, meaning that he had entered the presidential race.

As readers probably know, 'teddy bear' comes from the redoubtable Theodore Roosevelt. His decision to run for president in 1912 was unwise, and split the vote so that Woodrow Wilson was elected president. One of Clemenceau's many witticisms at the Versailles Conference after the Great War concerned Wilson's pompous and dictatorial  'Fourteen Point Plan for World Peace'. Clemenceau scanned it, placed it on the polished table at which he was seated, and whispered to his aide, 'God only needed ten'. 

At the height of his fame, Kenneth Williams went into a bank in Great Portland Street, London, to draw out some cash - this was in the days before cash-dispensing machines. A bank employee gushed all over him and said he had seen all his films, heard all his broadcasts, was a great fan. 'So, what can I do for you, Mr Williams?' 'I want to draw £50'. 'Oh, yes,' said the bank clerk, 'and have you any identification?’

This brings to my mind Dorothy Parker's description of her own bank account as 'so overdrawn it is almost photographic'.

In June 1973, General Yakubu Gowon, at that time President of Nigeria, came to London on a state visit. Welcomed by her majesty at Victoria Station, he had barely sat down in a carriage for the short drive to Buckingham Palace, when one of the Royal horses gave vent to an ear-splitting, tail-lifting fart. The Queen was very put out by this, as well she might be, and turned to President Gowon, saying, ‘Oh, I do apologise ... not a very good start to your visit!’ ‘Oh, please don’t apologise,’ said Gowon. ‘Besides, I thought it was one of the horses’.

I bet he didn't say that; I think Saffy must be having a lend of us with this one. Still, it does remind me of an old Irish joke in similar vein: The barber is giving the Archbishop a shave, and his hands are so shaky that he cuts the Archbishop's chin in several spots.

'It's the drink I suppose?' says the Archbishop, dabbing his face.

'Ah, that it is', says the barber, 'It does make the skin very thin and fragile, Your Grace'.

Judge John Maude (1901 - 1986) gave some advice to a hopeless drunken tramp, shaking with DTs, who appeared in court before him. The advice was that the tramp must at all costs eschew alcohol entirely forthwith. And just to reinforce the message, Judge Maude added: ‘Mind now, not even a tiny glass of sherry before luncheon!’

The Law Lords are a bit out of touch with the lives of most people. I think I have mentioned before the judge in the 1960 Lady Chatterley case, who asked the jury of twelve quite ordinary English men and women, 'What you must ask yourselves is this: "Would you want your servants to read this book?" ' 

Sister Gillian’s “bust clinic” referred to last month was, of course, a “busy clinic”. (local newspaper)

The shooting of the cadet force was excellent. The shooting of the sergeant major was especially satisfactory. (Daily Express)

WOMAN HURT WHILE COOKING HER HUSBAND’S BREAKFAST IN A HORRIBLE MANNER (Texas newspaper)

Overcome by gas while taking a shower, she owed her life to the watchfulness of the caretaker. (Cheshire Weekly)

We apologise for the error in last week’s paper in which we stated that Mr. Arnold Dogbody was a defective in the police force. This was a typographical error. We meant, of course, that Mr. Dogbody is a detective in the police farce, and we are sorry for any embarrassment caused. (Ely Standard)

The all-girl orchestra were rather weak in the bras section. (Slough Times) 

Bouhours, Dominique (1628-1702) 


 "I am about to--or I am going to--die; either expression is used".
 Dominique Bouhours was a pre-eminent French Jesuit grammarian who worked endlessly to promote a high standard of correctness and purity in the French language.

I have just been reading Barbara Tuchman's 'The Proud Tower', in which she relates the death of an aged member of the British aristocracy just before the Great War. His dying wish was that his son devote the rest of his life to ensuring that 'the motor car never plays any role in the sport of fox hunting'. 

From Nettlebed, Oxfordshire, England:

A widow wrote this epitaph in a Vermont cemetery:

(perhaps she could not afford to place a personal ad in the local paper….)

Saffron - September 2001