Here in Montreal, in 1952, we got all of one (1!) TV channel. If memory serves, it was channel 2 on the dial, and it was bilingual, English and French. (In those days there was more linguistic cooperation in this province!) The channel was run by the CBC: the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Shows were, of course, in black and white.
Book Progress Report #4
Okay, I’m now at 28,057 words. That’s an output of 1,507 words today. It’s a slooow slog, people! Especially now.
Who does this remind you of?
“Those morons out there? Shucks, I could take chicken fertilizer and sell it to them as caviar. I could make them eat dog food and think it was steak. … You know what the public’s like? A cage of guinea pigs. Good night, you stupid idiots. Good night, you miserable slobs. They’re a lot of trained seals. I toss them a dead fish and they’ll flap their flippers.”
Friday Follies #30 – 3 mistakes that make me go “Arghhh”!
Where oh where is a proofreader or editor when you need one? Apparently none was around when the following language crimes were committed. Here’s what the Grammar Cop found this week:
Oh, to be 4 again!
I find these photos so evocative. It’s not just that they were taken in the glorious fullness of summer, which seems eons away right now. It’s not just that each one includes an image of little me from 60-something years ago. No. It’s the innocence. It just wafts right off of the screen, don’t you find?
Book Progress Report #3
Phew! I’m proud to report that I’ve reached 26,550 words on my book, Our Driver Has No Car: Tales From the Trenches of Hollywood North. I’m very pleased with myself, as I doubled my output over last week. Since I only write on one weekend day, I’m happy!
Friday Follies #29 – 3 mistakes that make me go “Arghhh”!
Welcome once again to the Grammar Cop’s House of Language Horrors. Here we go again.
Play
Play. Girls’ play. What does that word even mean, to a kid of the 21st century? As a child of the ’50s, I can tell you what it doesn’t mean.
So You Think You Can Dance?
Well, I for one sure couldn’t! Mind you, I was only 13, it was 1958, so whaddya want, right? Well. At the community group ‘youth’ dances which I started attending, hoping to meet a [Good grief! What was my rush?!] boyfriend, dancing was a necessity… unless you wanted to spend a couple of hours holding up the wall.
Book Progress Report #2
Ding ding ding! I made it to 24,144 words! Okay, it’s not a whole heap more since last weekend, but – considering I procrastinated a lot to get here, I’m pretty satisfied.
Crossed Eyes and Dotted Tees 