the right word

Dr Oetker's silver balls
ballsing up the language
We were talking about traditional British celebratory cakes – proper rich fruit cakes with home-made almond paste, white royal icing and piped rosettes with silver dragées – and I was disappointed to find that confectionery suppliers in the UK are dumbing down: apparently they aren’t ‘dragées’ at all any more, but ‘silver balls’.

Why are we simplifying things when we have perfectly good and accurate words? A ‘silver ball’ could be any size and made of anything. A ‘silver dragée’ is far more precisely defined.
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bylaws for inlaws

They say that Christmas is one of the most stressful times of year. That’s probably particularly true when it involves getting together groups of adults who seldom see each other and who all have their own set ways and habits.

Fortunately, my own family found the perfect place to go for a walk together on Boxing Day.
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festive greenery

I’ve never seen sprouts sold like this in Spain, so had to take a photo when I went shopping in the local market with my mother, back in the UK, last week.

brussels sprouts on the stalk

Veg Box Recipes (no relation!) have this to say on the subject of this, perhaps the most traditional of Christmas vegetables:

The Brussels Sprout was originally cultivated in Belgium (hence the name) from cabbages. Generations of school children are still lamenting that event…

old habits

When the family went on holiday when I was a child, my parents always took books with us so we could identify the birds and flowers we saw in the different parts of the UK.

I’ve been visiting my mother this week, which I suppose counts as being “on holiday”, and she still has the same books. Not that we needed them to make a list of the birds we’ve seen from the lounge window while I’ve been here:
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all the rage

I haven’t been following the X-factor/Rage Against the Machine story, but it’s one of those things that filter through even if you aren’t the least bit interested in it, and the headlines this morning make it unmissable.

Even so, the only real interest I have in the story is that it’s triggered a memory of being asked by a Swedish friend’s son, back in the early Nineties, what Rage Against the Machine meant.
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