Devenish

  Click to play Sometimes, students’ exam mistakes bring you up short, when you realize that you really haven’t taught something very clearly. Sometimes they give you pause, have you re-consider the rationale for a particular lecture, the coherence of a certain argument. And sometimes the mistakes reflect a breathtaking egregiosity—my breath, their stupidity—that leaves you wondering whether they are thinking at all, and if so, what about (since it is evidently not the exam question in front of them.) Take yesterday’s History of English exam, for…instance. (Or, on second thoughts, don’t—if you haven’t attended the course). It was meant to be an easy test, allowing for the fact that the course is open to all years, including freshmen, whose English (of any period) is sorely tested. Question 3 presented these students with an alphabetical list of 10 Old English words, and asked them to supply the Present Day English (PDE) equivalents. The set included hūs, land, līf, oðer …and heofon

A propos nothing in particular, I spent a few minutes yesterday on YouTube listening to covers of Ewan MacColl's brilliant love song "The first time ever I saw your face." And had two related revelations. The first is that it is possible for me to listen to Celine Dion without coming out in a rash provoked by insincerity, sentimentality, and saccharine in equal profusion: with this song she almost appears genuine, and there can be no doubt about the beauty of her voice. The other revelation—the corollary of this, if you will—is that Celine is less to be condemned for her talent than for her poor judgment in generally singing really atrocious, emetic songs. Viz . Or maybe it shows that even Celine cannot screw up a work of genius... For all that, Johnny Cash still comes out on top... (I've still to make up my mind about Peter, Paul and Mary, and Roberta Flack)

Kangaroo at Oji-Koen Spent the morning pondering when : the transient becomes the ephemeral. The time past. Nicely. In fact, neither word could pass muster. No stars you see.* --- Spent the morning pondering when the transient becomes the ephemeral . The time passed. Nicely. In fact, neither word could pass muster. No stars, you see.* I love this job. Explanatory note: In order for a word to be admissable in a reading passage for the Konan entrance examination, it must have been awarded two or more asterisks in the Genius English-Japanese dictionary, indicating its high frequency in whatever perversely compiled database comprises their sample of written English. Needless to say, ephemeral is bereft of any such redeeming marks, as is transient . (When is ok, of course.) Sic transit gloria. ..

The title of this piece is misleading, for it assumes that I knew Eugene. In point of fact, I'm not certain that we ever met, Eugene Moloney and me (or Maloney, the BBC doesn't seem too sure of the spelling). What I do know for sure is that he was a very good friend of my brother-in-law Peter, and of my sister Aislinn, and—by all accounts—the most decent and generous 'courtesy uncle' that any child could have for my niece and nephews.  I also know that he is dead at 55, the victim of a casual assault, killed as he walked home in the early hours of last Sunday morning in Dublin. Thanks to the otherwise loathesome cctv, the guards have arrested and charged the alleged perpetrator—one Gary Burch, 21, a trainee mechanic. (I've never figured out why age and profession are relevant in crime reporting, unless in the first case it is to exonerate namesakes who happen not to share birth year, or in the second, the profession happens to be 'contract killer': but the