Frank Mitchell: Arrival of my first grandchild means even as a Man City fan I have a soft spot for his Newcastle team
There has been a very important development for Frank Mitchell – the birth of his first grandchild
One of my old teachers crossed my mind this week. Mr Hoben guided me to O level success in economics. He usually wore a grey suit with a V neck jumper over a shirt and tie. His narrow eyes and thick rimmed glasses suggested a crossness but his most memorable feature was his accent. It was regional English and sounded similar to some of the soldiers who would stop and search us as teenagers.
He stretched his words as people from his home town tend to do. His first name was Paul but we all called him Charlie. It didn't take much to get a nickname in the '70s. One day he was chastising a time waster by warning him that he would not accept anyone trying to be a 'Char-Lee' during lessons, and from that day this strict but outstanding teacher from Sunderland had been renamed.
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Daily Mirror
6 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
Tiny abandoned UK village where no one can enter without special permission
Stanford, a deserted village and civil parish in Norfolk, was taken over by the British Army during the Second World War and can only be accessed with permission A Norfolk village can only be accessed with special permission from the military. Stanford, an abandoned village and civil parish in the English county, was seized by the British Army during World War II. It was subsequently dubbed the Stanford Battle Area, and to this day, it serves as an active infantry training ground. The village was evacuated and reformed in 1942 to mimic a 'Nazi village', playing a crucial role in the preparations for the D-Day invasion. In 2009, an additional section was incorporated into the Battle Area to train troops set to be deployed in the Afghan war, as previously reported by the Mirror. This section comprises houses, a market, a mosque, and even a system that emits odours such as rotten meat and sewage. The 16 Air Assault Brigade conducts their annual Gryphon exercises there, along with cadets aiming to complete Fieldcraft exercises. Located seven and a half miles north of Thetford and 25 miles southwest of Norwich, the village lies within a restricted area, and visitors must obtain special permission from the Army to enter. Access is primarily limited to a handful of tours throughout the year and on compassionate grounds for former residents or their relatives. Live fire drills are conducted on site, so entering at your own risk could have serious repercussions. Structures like the parish church of All Saints are equipped with blast-proofing sheeting to shield them from military operations. Each of the surviving churches and churchyards in the region is enclosed by wire fencing. Stanford is one of six Norfolk villages unceremoniously abandoned during the Second World War, with villagers promised a return post-war that never happened. West Tofts, Sturston, Langford, Stanford, Buckenham Tofts, and Tottington were all evacuated and have since remained in military hands. Yet, despite continuing as an active military zone known as Stanford Training Area, the 2001 census clocked a tiny population of just eight souls residing within four households over an expansive 5.26 square miles. And still, in 2011 the census data pointed to fewer than 100 inhabitants, leading Stanford to be administratively swallowed up by the civil parish of Croxton. The name 'Stanford' itself harks back to its origins, meaning "stony ford". The village's battle area has even had its brush with fame, serving as a backdrop for select episodes of the beloved comedy series 'Dad's Army'. In more recent memory, the village has been troubled by two significant fires. A calamitous event occurred on August 21, 2005, when five cottages overlooking Church Green became engulfed in flames originating from a dormant chimney fire which ferociously spread throughout their thatched roofs. Another blaze wreaked havoc on July 6, 2013, tearing through the storied walls and upper floors of the local haunt, the Horse and Jockey pub.
Telegraph
a day ago
- Telegraph
‘Despite the headlines, 'mischeevious' is not considered standard English'
'Mischievous'. It's a word that has come to define my week in quite unexpected ways, ever since I happened to answer a question from an audience member at the wonderful Hay Festival about changes to English that I find annoying. I explained that one bugbear I have recently overcome was the increasing use of the pronunciation 'mischeevious', since I have come to see the rationale for the change and to acknowledge its place in a long history of sound shifts that, for a lexicographer at least, are interesting to observe. The result was a right linguistic foofaraw, thanks to many a mischievous headline claiming I now consider 'mischeevious' to be entirely acceptable. I'm hoping I can set the record a little straighter now. The first thing to say is that a lexicographer's job is to chart the trajectory of words as they evolve. We are describers, not prescribers, of language, despite the understandable desire of many for some form of linguistic government. English has no equivalent to L'Académie française, a body that attempts to preside over the French language. English has always been an entirely democratic affair, subject to the will of the people, and it is inevitable that some of the changes it undergoes will prove irksome along the way. The fact that many of us are messing with the sound of 'mischievous' is clearly one. Despite the headlines, it is most definitely not considered standard English: in fact Oxford's dictionary of contemporary English offers unusually firm guidelines as to its usage: 'Mischievous is a three-syllable word. It should not be pronounced with four syllables with the stress on the second syllable, as if it were spelled mischievious'. Why, then, are we changing it? Is there any method to our madness? The answer involves a process that has informed linguistic evolution for centuries. In the case of 'mischievous', which comes from the Old French meschever, 'to come to an unfortunate end', the '-ievous' ending of the adjective is coming under the influence of such words as 'devious'. In the same way, it is becoming rare these days to hear reports of 'grievous bodily harm': I have heard 'grievious bodily harm' at least three times on news reports just this weekend. This is far from the only example of changing pronunciation, as readers will know all too well. 'Pacifically' and 'nucular' are two other repeat offenders. In the case of the former, 'pacifically' (already in the dictionary meaning 'peacefully'; the Pacific Ocean is the 'Peaceful Ocean') is judged by some to be easier to say, while the shift to 'nucular' brings it closer to such words as 'molecular' and 'secular' – there are fewer common words in current English ending with '-lear', with the exception perhaps of 'cochlear'. In each of these cases, familiarity seems to the catalyst. Similarly, it seems most people feel on 'tenderhooks' these days, rather than 'tenterhooks'. The latter were once a common feature in cloth-manufacturing districts, for they were wooden frames erected in rows in the open air on 'tenter-fields'. Wet cloth would be hooked onto them to be stretched after milling, allowing it dry evenly without shrinkage. Metaphorically, to be on tenterhooks is to be as taut, tense, and in suspense as the wool itself. Today, tenters are no longer a feature of our countryside, resulting in 'tenderhooks' being chosen for the job instead. I of course regret the loss of the story behind such words, but the joy of etymology is digging beneath the surface to discover these treasures of the past. Lest you feel your blood pressure rising already, there is some reassurance in the fact that such shifts are nothing new. If you've ever wondered what a Jerusalem artichoke has to do with Jerusalem, the answer is absolutely nothing: the name arose because English speakers in the 16th century struggled with the Italian word 'girasole', which means 'sunflower' (the Jerusalem artichoke is a heliotrope). It sounded a little like 'Jerusalem', so they plumped for that instead. At the same time, 'asparagus' must have proved equally challenging, for English speakers some 400 years ago decided to call it 'sparrowgrass' instead. The expression a 'forlorn hope' is a mangling of the Dutch 'verloren hoop', or 'lost troop', describing the vanguard of an army that fell in battle. It's hard to deny that there is poetry in our substitution. Slips of the tongue and ear are more common than you might think. Such words as 'umpire', 'apron', 'adder', and 'nickname' are the direct result of mistaken assumptions, for they began respectively as a 'noumpere', a 'napron', and a 'nadder'. In each case the 'n' drifted over to the 'a', since when spoken out loud it was hard to tell which word the letter belonged to. There are dozens more examples. 'Teeny' is an alteration of 'tiny', 'innards' is a take on 'inwards', 'manhandle' is a semi-logical riff on 'mangle', and 'tootsie' represents a child's delivery of 'footsie'. Other words that once wore their hearts on their sleeves have changed their sounds completely: a cupboard was pronounced with 'cup' and 'board' fully intact; only later did we decide it was a 'cubbard'. A 'ward-robe', or 'keeper of robes', is now more usually a 'war-drobe2. And let's not even start with a process known as 'haplology', where a word's syllable is swallowed entirely: who pronounces 'February' with the middle 'r' these days? You're more likely to hear 'probably' as 'probly', too, and a 'library' as a 'libry'. Even our idioms have taken a strange turn over the centuries. Why does 'head over heels' describe being upended by love when this is our regular bodily position? The answer is that the original was 'heels over head', meaning to turn a somersault, but at some point in the phrase's history the idiom was mistakenly (and fittingly) turned upside down. None of these changes mean we should no longer care. The opposite, in fact, for having bugbears means we are passionate about our words and wish to protect their beauty and clarity. What's more, when we mangle them, we run the risk of distracting our audience, and losing our meaning in the process. But it also feels important to know that language – and English in particular – has always been unpredictable and occasionally erratic, changing as its users wish it to, even if that is occasionally by mistake. I'll finish with one request: please don't shoot the messenger. I'm beginning to realise that there is a reason why I am occasionally called a 'minefield' of information.
Daily Mirror
a day ago
- Daily Mirror
Warning for pruning lavender as gardeners told to not make one mistake
Lavender is a staple in gardens across Britain, but by doing this one simple and common mistake while pruning, you could be stopping your plant from ever growing back Lavender can be a great addition to any garden. With its bright purple flowers and soothing smells it has become a staple of many British gardens. It's easy and quick to grow and can often be a great addition to borders or pots to bring a garden to life with its elegance - not to mention the home of bees it will soon attract. But with its stalks quickly becoming bushy and overgrown the plants often need a good prune to keep them healthy and your garden looking neat and tidy. But with all that maintenance there's one mistake that even experienced gardeners make that can actually have a drastic impact on your plant's ability to grow. Luckily for gardeners, there's just one simple, golden rule that ensures the plants will keep coming back stronger than ever. The answer - never prune down to the woody branches. Cutting all the way back into the old, woody stems may seem like a good idea to neaten a lavender, but it's a big no-no. Unlike other plants where aggressive pruning can keep them healthy and alive, it's a common misconception that lavender follows this trend. In fact for the purple plant, the opposite is true. Lavender doesn't readily re-sprout from old woody stems and instead, to produce new shoots, relies on the leafier parts that are sensitive to light to create the energy for the new flowers. Once you've made the cut all the way down to the woody base, you're likely to be left with bare, lifeless stubs that will struggle to green up again, this can lead to a patchy plant with large gaps of bloom and leave your pots looking bare. So what actually is the best way to prune lavender? As a general rule, keep to the green parts, a few inches above the woody section and ideally around half of the current year's growth, this not only neatens the plants out but also encourages new growth and maintains a healthy, compact plant. For English lavender too the best time to prune is soon approaching, typically when the first lot of flowers have started to fade, although it should be noted that after August you've officially missed the boat, with gardeners told to wait until the following spring before you can neaten up your borders. There are of course rare situations where you might need to break the rule and remove damaged or diseased stems, but even then, try to cut back into the green growth above the damage to give it a fighting chance of re-sprouting.
