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Feedback: Norse god has a day of his own

Why there's nothing wrong with Tue's night, a nine-dimensional bathtub, anachronistic charades, and more

Norse god has a day of his own

IN OUR piece questioning the use of the “janitor’s apostrophe” in the phrase “Tue’s night” (30 April), we apparently betrayed a lamentable ignorance of Norse mythology.

“Tuesday is named after the god Tyr or Tiw,” Stephen Ashton admonishes us. “So Tuesday night is the night of Tiw, or Tiw’s night.”

Kevon Kenna is quick to agree: “If Thursday is Thor’s Day, Wednesday is Woden’s Day, and Tuesday is Tiw’s Day,” he asserts, “it may well be correct to write ‘Tue’s Night’ for ‘Tiw’s Night’.”

Tiw, , was a god of war in Norse mythology and was the son of Odin and Frigg. An unfortunate encounter with a wolf meant that he only had one hand.

Sorry, Tiw. We didn’t realise.

“From the department of unhelpful information: David Bygott saw a sign at the gate of a dirt road on a ranch in Arizona which announced “Unknown Conditions Ahead”

Nine-dimensional bathtub

IT WAS, reputedly, the playwright George Bernard Shaw who first said that “England and America are two countries separated by the same language”. Unless it was Winston Churchill, or Dylan Thomas, and it was “divided by a common language”.

And not just by language, as is shown by this intriguing extract from an article on the destructive power of water from The New York Times, reproduced in The Observer newspaper in London. “A bathtub holds about 150 litres of water. That is 150 kilograms, filling what at first seems a modest volume of 0.08 cubic meters by 0.08 cubic meters by 0.08 cubic meters. But that weighs nearly 771 kilograms, as much as the Smart microcar.” So what we have here is three-times-three dimensions. That’s a nine-dimensional bathtub, which could indeed wreak all sorts of topological havoc.

Alain Head was intrigued enough to go back to the original piece in The New York Times online, where : “A typical bathtub holds 40 gallons or so of water. That is 330 pounds. A cubic yard of it, filling what at first glance seems a modest volume of 3 feet by 3 feet by 3 feet, weighs nearly 1700 pounds, as much as the Smart micro car.”

Clearly, as Alain says, “the guy who worked on the Mars Climate Orbiter has got a new job”. Where The Observer got 0.08 from must remain a mystery, the measuring instrument having crashed. The newspaper has since withdrawn its assertion that 150 equals 771 () but appears to remain as mystified as we are by the nine-dimensional bath, which it has neither withdrawn nor explained.

UK and US become neighbours

WHEN she was searching for a tourist centre in Wales, Anne Magill encountered a different, but no less puzzling, take on transatlantic relations. Google Maps told her: “Blaenavon World Heritage Centre & Tourist Information Centre, United Kingdom… Did you mean: Blaenavon World Heritage Centre & Tourist Information Centre, United Kingdom near United States?”

Virtual carbon paper

READER John Hill sends us another intriguing contribution to our theme of using words without knowing their original meaning (7 May). Emails, he points out, have a “cc” and a “bcc” option. How many emailers know that “cc” stands for “carbon copy”? Come to that, how many are old enough to have ever used carbon paper, or even know what it is?

The meaning of skeuomorph

MEANWHILE, Anthea Fraser Gupta and Steve Wilson have separately alerted us to the delightful word “skeuomorph”. This, our trusty copy of the New Oxford Dictionary of English tells us, is “an object or feature copying the design of a similar artefact in another material”.

Examples are stitching patterns on pottery bowls, based on the way leather vessels would have been stitched, or spoke patterns on hubcaps. Anthea and Steve both feel that “skeuomorph” could be extended to include gestures that refer back to a meaning that is no longer relevant, such as Anita Gait’s “air scribble” when requesting the bill in a restaurant (7 May).

Charades from the past

TALKING of which, Hugh Farey comments on the gestures used during the game of charades to indicate whether the subject is a book, a play or a film.

“While a book is fairly sensibly indicated by a pair of opening palms, the stage is always shown as a set of tableau curtains, which open upwards and outwards, rather than straight across or straight upwards as they nearly all do now, and a film is shown as a shoulder-held, manually wound camera of a kind not seen for nearly 100 years” – although, as we pointed out on 14 May, such cameras are still shown on British road signs alerting drivers to speed cameras and other enforcement measures.

Football dipped in anti-matter

FINALLY, sports commentators often excel in hyperbole. Andrew Ewart points us to live blogger on the BBC Sport website, who surely deserves a prize for this commentary on the English football programme on Sunday 1 May: “Four Premier League fixtures of such import, fascination and quality that you’d expect them gift-wrapped in gold, with diamond ribbon bows, and dipped in anti-matter under the tree on Christmas morning.”

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