WHEN I was musing on what else to write about this week, up popped the word glissando.
I know. I checked. It has all its a’s and o’s in the right place. But it’s not generally one of mine.
When you think where I’ve been most of the week though, it’s not surprising. I’ve picked up all sorts of different words.
Most of them have floated through my vocabulary at one time or another but it’s good when one slides in all unexpected. And glissando certainly did that.
It was just sort of unexpected. And so I thought I’d better write it down while I decided what to do with it.
Like at the physios the other morning. I’ve been having a bit trouble with my neck. And no, it’s nothing to do with sitting, head on one side, blown away by contemporary music.
When asked to describe the pain, I promptly replied. Pear drops.
Stupid really but I knew exactly what I meant.
Anyone remember that awful sensation when you accidentally swallowed a pear drop. Unforgettable. There’s nothing quite like it.
And it described perfectly the lump in my neck that felt like it was trying to burrow it’s way out through my ear. So, pear drops.
It was like that as I sat at St Paul’s Hall listening to some of the most extraordinary musicians playing a programme of music that I found full of loops and strange shapes, brittleness and points. And then – popcorn.
I know. I’m beginning to sound like that woman who describes wine in a rather bizarre way on the TV.
But popcorn it was. And when I thought about it I realised what it was.
Does popcorn make anyone else shudder because of its teeth curling sweetness and that awful rasp that it makes as it comes into contact with your teeth or your fingers?
Exactly. I rest my case. Words always pop up just when you need them.