Speed kilts

Speed kilts

If there’s one thing the legendary Cadbury’s Caramel ‘bunny girl’ TV adverts teach us (apart from keeping sinful lust under wraps) is that it often pays to take your time and think about the problem you face.

Working to deadlines is something we all encounter. Some people plan their tasks ahead, allocating time in an organised fashion, never leaving it to the last minute. Others do the opposite, constantly putting the task off and revelling in the growing panic as the deadline approaches, claiming it feeds their creative juices

The Tortoise and the Hare

Arthur Rackham's Aesop's Fables

Ever bore of waiting for a website to load? Fed up of clicking on things to get to the page you want? I can’t be arsed to type ‘www’ anymore, Google will find it. And it does. On-demand is now part of our cultural make-up. Speed has seduced us.

But there is something to be said for Aesop’s Fable and taking the time to think about how best to solve a problem. In the end, of course, the tortoise wins the race.

 

What Word does wrong

When it comes to desktop publishing, Microsoft Word is the ubiquitous piece of software (500 million worldwide users can’t be wrong). It helps you work fast, offering spell checking, grammar checking – even a thesaurus if you’re stuck for words.

Microsoft Word - the enemy within?

But buyer (and designer) beware. Rushing headlong into Word can have unexpected consequences, one of which being it’s tendency to lead you into an American writing style as opposed to English.

If you want to write English don’t fall into the trap of taking Word’s suggestion of using ‘Title Case’ for all your headings. That’s an American style that should be avoided. Generally, capital letters are only used on proper names. 

For example:

Professor Recommends New Reading List….

…is the wrong way to depict the above heading.

Professor recommends new reading list….

…is the correct way to depict the above heading.

Designers, writers and journalists need to decide which style to use when crafting their work. Once you know what to look for, it begins to leap out of the page at you. Compare the style differences between UK newspapers and those from across the pond. It’s the headings and sub-headings that give the game away.

If you are happy to write American, carry on regardless. But if you’re the same kind of anorak as me, you’ll baulk at the US style and insist that English is used.

Further reading

The Guardian style guide.

The Economist style guide.

Aesop’s Fables.

The anorak challenge

How many language style errors can you spot on the following website login page?

0-3: you’re a Yankee!

4-7: you’re mid-Atlantic.

8-10: you’re a true anorak.

Author’s notes

The ‘Speed kilts’ title of this blog was a deliberate typo to see if anyone actually reads it as ‘Speed kills’. What did you do? Other errors and omissions are cock-ups by the writer.

Divided by a common tongue

What is it about class and culture that marks us apart from, or together with, our fellow humans? Language.

Today I need to cut the grass in my back yard (garden) - if you could hear the voice in my head you'd know I was saying "grass" with a hard 'a' - not "graahss" with a soft 'a'. 

I live close to the beautiful city of Bath, in the historic county of Somerset - that's "Bath", of course, not "Baaath". When I lived in London, I bought a flat. Funnily enough, posh Brits wouldn't say "flaaaht", they'd probably say "apartment" like our American cousins.

Professional sport is riven by class and culture. In the UK rugby historically had two codes - working class rugby league (northern) and upper class rugby union (southern). Cricket also evolved two classes - gentlemen and professionals. Gentlemen, of course, didn't need salaries, they often had private means of indulging their sporty passions.

Today class boundaries may be blurred but scratch away at the surface and you'll find them.

My youth was dedicated to following the round ball - association football to use the official name. Soccer if you're a posh Brit or from the States. 

Football to my cousins across the Atlantic is, of course, the gridiron variation - American Football to us Brits.

I tried this sport in my thirties. A local newspaper advert called all like-minded fans of Channel 4 TV's coverage to gather in the local park and form a team. Dozens turned up. When we realised that one among us was a yank, we made him the quarterback (whether he liked it or not) while the rest of us indulged in that strangely compelling British tradition of knocking the living crap out of each other. No equipment, but a lot of balls.

Over the next couple of years we first made our protective gear then raised the money to buy 60 helmets, shipping them in from the States - I collected them from Manchester in my bosses' new Range Rover, storing them overnight in Auntie Bettie's house because we were worried about them being stolen from the car. 

Although I have no direct experience I'm sure this kind of sports fanaticism is mirrored on both sides of the Atlantic. Logic, reason and tolerance are left behind when your team take the field. The male refuge of pub (bar) and friends (mates, pals, guys, lads) used to be sacrosanct. And the stories, the legends, the laughs, the craic as the Irish might say - they deserve to be shared.

Which is why I'm starting this blog. Share your tales of daft actions and mistakes - sport or language related. 

I've never forgotten the look on the barman's face in Canada when I needed a cigarette and asked for a fag.