bletting

Some fruits, particularly sloes and medlars (more on those later), can be a bit sour to eat, even when they’re ripe (due to high levels of tannins). And that’s where our word of the week comes in – to make them more edible, we blet them. This basically means letting them go past fully ripe to the point where they’re just starting to break down, but aren’t quite rotting yet. Yum.

There seems to be quite an art to bletting – let it go too long and obviously the fruit’s too minging to eat. Don’t do it enough and it’ll be too bitter to enjoy. Having said that, it’s a fairly hands-off process, and mainly involves storing fruit at room temperature then looking at it every now and again. There seems to be some poking involved as well.

Etymology-wise, we can trace ‘blet’ back to the Old English word ‘blætt’ or ‘blǣtt’, that was used to describe anything a bit squishy or soft.

Four medlars, in all their bummy glory (photo © Andrew Dunn, 1 October 2005).

One fruit that’s inedible before bletting is the medlar, which you possibly haven’t heard of. Medlars were actually very popular here in Blighty a few hundred years ago. They go back even further than that as well – the medlar tree comes from Persia, and ye olde Greeks and Romans grew them too. They possibly fell out of favour because a perfectly bletted medlar is brown and squishy to the point that you might think it’s going to collapse in your hand. Doesn’t sound terribly appetising, does it?

Medlars also aren’t the most attractive of fruits – in fact, in France they’re called ‘cul de chien’ which translates as ‘dog’s arse’. Shakespeare called them ‘open-arse’ in Romeo and Juliet (which paints a lovely picture), and DH Lawrence referred to them as ‘autumnal excrementa’ (‘autumn shit’) in his poem ‘Medlars and Sorb-Apples’. That ode starts with these delightful lines:

‘I love you, rotten,

Delicious rottenness.’

Despite all this bad press, the much-maligned medlar is making a bit of a comeback. Medlar jelly is apparently lovely with a bit of cheese, and you can buy it online. Go on, treat yourself to some autumnal poop. You know you want to.

salary

Ah, salaries. Something we’re all a bit obsessed with as we navigate the cozzie livs*. But did you know that the word itself actually has a fairly surprising etymology?

‘Salary’ comes from the Latin word ‘salarium’, which itself comes from ‘sal’ in Latin, meaning ‘salt’. This is because, back in the ancient Roman day, salt was a really valuable commodity. This wasn’t just about making food taste good either – salt was vital for preserving it in a pre-fridge world. And that was crucial for those Romans centurions off conquering and building roads, installing sanitation, and all the other things mentioned in The Life of Brian.

Because of all this value, salt was actually used as a type of currency. And that meant the word ‘salarium’ was used to describe payments given to soldiers to cover their expenses, including to buy salt (presumably not with salt as currency though – that would be mental). Over time, the meaning of ‘salarium’ expanded to include any regular payment made to someone in exchange for their services, becoming ‘salary’ along the way.

The St Kinga Chapel (by Cezary p, CC BY-SA 3.0)

Salt mines have existed for thousands of years, and one of the most famous ones is the Wieliczka Salt Mine in Poland. It produced salt from the 13th century right up to 1996 (when it was closed due to falling salt prices and flooding). The mine is now a tourist attraction and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and reaches a depth of 1,073 feet (327 metres) while extending for over 178 miles (287 kilometres). It’s particularly famous for the St Kinga Chapel, which is entirely carved out of salt, including the floor, walls and even the chandeliers. The chapel is about 330 feet (101 meters) below the surface of the Earth, and is named after St Kinga, the patron saint of salt miners. Apparently the acoustics are fantastic, so lots of concerts are held there, as well as an annual music festival – you can even get married there.

*Irritating slang for the cost-of-living crisis.

succinct

Last week’s word of the week was about Very. Long. Speeches. So this week, we’re keeping it short. If you’re succinct, it means you express yourself in a clear and brief way without adding unnecessary details – you’re concise and to the point. Which is ironic for a word that definitely has more ‘c’s in it than any word really needs.

Being succinct is a big part of the way I write for businesses – why use 10 words when you can use five? It saves everyone time. Like skipping ‘in order to’ – just say ‘to’. Seriously, try it.

Anyway, pitch over – back to ‘succinct’. This word comes from the Latin ‘succinctus’, which is the past participle of the verb ‘succingere’. And ‘succingere’ is formed from ‘sub’, which means ‘under’ (as in ‘submarine’, ‘subway’, ‘substandard’, and so on), and ‘cingere’, which means ‘to gird’ or ‘encircle’. The original Latin term actually referred to the act of tightening your belt – literally, not metaphorically.

Not Ananta Ram

Over time, ‘succinct’ evolved to describe something expressed concisely and clearly, just like tightening that belt. This change in meaning happened when the word came over into English in the late 15th century.

Someone who definitely isn’t succinct is Ananta Ram, from Kathmandu in Nepal, who holds the Guinness world record for the longest speech. It came in at a massive 90 hours and 2 minutes. The speech started at 6.15am on 27 August 2018, and finished at 12.17am on 31st August. Ram was silent for almost seven days beforehand to prepare.

Our very own Gyles Brandreth holds the record for the longest ever after-dinner speech at 12-and-a-half hours (which he did for charity – I can’t find it on the Guinness world records’ website though, so I’m not sure if it’s still valid). When he first broke the record he celebrated by doing a handstand, which you can see on his Instagram page. You can also book Gyles Brandreth for an after-dinner speech for the tidy sum of £10,000 to £15,000 – I’d be doing handstands too if I could earn that for a speech.

filibuster

In case you’re not an expert on political systems (which I definitely am not), a filibuster is a parliamentary tactic, often used in the United States’ Senate. It involves a member of the legislature speaking for a long time, or engaging in other tactics like raising lots of points of order, to try to delay a vote on a bill. This works because in the United States’ Senate there’s no time limit on individual speeches. So a senator can potentially speak for hours or even days to stop a vote.

There are a few ways to end a filibuster, including a three-fifths majority vote (usually 60 out of 100 senators in the US Senate) to invoke ‘cloture’ (another new-to-me word). This is a formal process that limits further debate and schedules a time for a vote on the bill.

So, why is this type of long speech called a ‘filibuster’? Well, it comes from a Spanish word ‘filibustero’, which originally referred to pirates or buccaneers doing naughty things in the West Indies and Central America during the 19th century. ‘Filibustero’ probably has its origins in the Dutch word ‘vrijbuiter’, which means ‘freebooter’ or ‘pirate’. It wasn’t long before this term that previously described pirates became a word for a parliamentary obstruction tactic.

Strom Thurmond – allegedly racist AND sexist (I cut the top of his head off on purpose)

The longest filibuster on record came from the awesomely named Senator Sturm Thurmond, who sounds like a Star Wars character. Despite his excellent moniker, Thurmond was a vehement opponent of the Civil Rights Act 1957, and supported racial segregation (apparently he also had a reputation for fondling women in elevators – he sounds like a massive dick). His filibuster to stop Black Americans getting the vote started at 8.54pm on 28 August and lasted until 9.12pm THE FOLLOWING DAY – that’s a massive 24 hours and 18 minutes. Thankfully it didn’t work, and the bill passed two hours after his filibuster ended. It was signed into law by President Eisenhower within two weeks. Up yours, Sturm.