That, which, who

The use of the correct relative pronoun is one that used to be extremely important – if you wanted to speak and write correct English – but it has tended to excite less wrath from the pedants, if used incorrectly, in recent years. 

We are talking here about “that”, “which” and “who/whom”. In general terms, “that” should be used to refer to persons, animals and things, “which” to animals and things, and “who/whom” to persons. 

The basic rule is that “that” should be used to define the meaning or intention of the preceding word or phrase, as in “the book that I put on the shelf was a novel by Dickens”, whereas “which” would be used when the identifying information has already been supplied, as in “The novel by Dickens, which I put on the shelf, was far too long for me.” 

The use of “which” implies that you are referring to a specific item as opposed to another one, but this is not universal – “that” is often used in such a context. 

You can use “that” for persons when any member of a defined group is being referred to, and “who” when it is a particular person. Examples here might be: “People that live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones” and “Bert, who lives in a glass house, threw a stone.” In British English, it is common to use “who” in preference to “that” when there is uncertainty, but Americans tend to prefer “that”. 

It has to be said that the use of these relative pronouns is dying out in some quarters, and if omitting one does not change the meaning of a sentence, then there is nothing wrong in doing so. However, there are occasions when confusion can be avoided by including one. 

Consider this example: “Mr Jones said yesterday some shares fell rapidly”. This could mean either that he said this yesterday or that the shares fell yesterday. The ambiguity can be avoided very easily by placing “that” either before or after “yesterday”. 

In the interest of not using more words than necessary to make one’s meaning clear, omitting that/which/who should be encouraged – but only when the meaning really is clear. 

As to using “that” or “which”, it depends on how precise you want to be. A general principle of modern grammar should be that a difference that makes no difference is not a difference worth too much bother!

© John Welford

Lie, lay

How often have you heard someone say “I’m going to lay down for a rest”, when they should really have said “lie down”?

The confusion arises because lay can mean either the past tense of lie, or be the transitive verb equivalent of the intransitive verb lie.

Thus: “I will lie here until dinner time”, but “I lay on the bed for an hour after lunch”.

A transitive verb always takes an object, whereas an intransitive verb does not, so that you have to lay something – you can lay the table, or a hen can lay an egg!

An easy way to remember this is: “Lay down the law and lie on the floor”!

 © John Welford

led, lead

A lot of people seem to be getting this wrong these days, usually by writing “lead” when it should be “led” – as in “the path lead me in the wrong direction”.

The confusion comes because “lead” can be pronounced either as “ledd” or “leed”, depending on its meaning. The “ledd” sound is only used when “lead” refers to the grey metal of that name. The “leed” sound is the present tense of “led”.

So correct usages would be:

The lead on the church roof has been stolen.

Does this road lead to Leicester?

He led me astray.

© John Welford

Either, neither, any

Either (the same applies to the negative form - neither) is used when two objects/situations are being covered, as in “I don’t like either blue or yellow” Any is used when the number of alternatives is greater than two, as in “I don’t like any of these colours”. 

An important thing to note is that either is always followed by or, and neither by nor, so it is “I don’t like either blue or yellow” and “I like neither blue nor yellow”.

A point that can lead to difficulties is that either and neither are singular words, not plurals, so the grammatically correct thing to say/write is “Either you or I am mistaken”, but that does not sound quite right to most people, given that “Either you or I are mistaken” might sound more natural. You can avoid this problem by phrasing it differently, such as “Either you are mistaken or I am”, which sounds perfectly OK – whereas “Either you are mistaken or I are” would clearly be wrong!

And how should you pronounce either/neither? There would seem to be a fairly even split between “eether” and “eyether” – so the choice is yours!

(I am referring in this piece to British English – conventions could be different in other parts of the English-speaking world)

© John Welford

Can, may and might

The words can, may and might all have to do with the possibility of something happening in the future, and the first two can also be used to indicate that permission is being granted for something to happen. But what determines when each of these should and should not be used?

Here are three sentences:

I can go to London
I may go to London
I might go to London

Do they mean exactly the same? Not quite!
The first could mean that it is physically possible for me to go – I have bought a train ticket, for example – whereas the second implies that, although the possibility is there, there is a chance that I won’t go – I could change my mind, for example. Can is therefore more positive than may. The third is nearly identical in meaning to the second, on the assumption that we are only talking about the possibility or probability of going, although may is a more positive word to use in this context.

However, the same words would also suffice to imply that permission has been granted for the trip – in the case of can and may, but not might. In terms of permission granting, there is no real difference between can and may.

There can therefore be confusion as to what is meant in a statement such as: You can open the box. Does this mean that you are physically capable of unlocking it and lifting the lid, or have you been given permission to do so? It could be very important to make this clear, because either interpretation is possible. 

If using the past tense, might does what may does in the present and future tenses: I may go to London tomorrow but I might have gone yesterday. 

When subtle shades of meaning are involved, it is vital to get things like this right! (It is also worth pointing out that can and might have other, completely different, meanings in English, and May is the name of a month. As if this little matter was not complicated enough as it stood!)


© John Welford

Flammable and inflammable

These two words actually mean the same thing, namely that the item being described is liable to burst into flames under certain conditions. Inflammable really means "very flammable", but the two words tend to be used interchangeably. However, it might be thought that "in" implies "non", as it does in words like "independent", which is the opposite of "dependent". Clearly it could be dangerous if the word is misunderstood, so it is safer to avoid using "inflammable" and prefer a clearer expression such as "highly flammable". For the negative, "non-flammable" is the clearest word to use.

© John Welford

Dead ringer: the origin of the term

The term “dead ringer” is applied to someone who looks remarkably like someone else, especially if the second person is a celebrity. “Dead Ringers” is also the title of a BBC radio show, although in this case it refers to professional impressionists who can be “soundalikes” of well-known people as opposed to lookalikes. But where does the term originate?

We have to go back to medieval times when medical science was nothing like as advanced as it is now. If somebody relapsed into a coma they were quite likely to be declared dead, after which they would go through all that that entailed, ending with burial in the local churchyard. Also common at that time was grave robbery, with bodies being dug up at night so that any treasures that had been buried with them could be stolen. The robbers were sometimes horrified to discover that there were scratches on the insides of coffin lids, where the “bodies” had “come to life” and desperately tried to dig themselves free, only to succumb to suffocation.

This possibility was so worrying to some people that they gave instructions that – when they died – their grave would be equipped with a bell above ground level and a string would link the bell to their wrist. Should they recover from their coma they would ring the bell and hope that somebody would hear it and dig them up before it was too late. Bizarre as this notion might sound, there were actually occasions on which this ploy worked and people were saved from a very unpleasant death.

Knowing that this was a possibility, people might imagine that someone who looked someone else, who was known to have died, was in fact the same person, “resurrected” by having rung the bell above his or her grave. That would make him or her a “ringer”, but surely he or she would be a “non-dead ringer”, as opposed to a dead one!

Logical or not, that is the origin of the term!

© John Welford

The POSH myth debunked

The word “posh” can be defined as “elegant” or “luxurious” or it can be used to describe someone who is either “upper class” or behaves as though they are. But where does the word come from?

For many years people believed that it was an acronym, with the letters standing for Port Out Starboard Home. This in turn was supposed to derive from the custom of the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company (P&O) of issuing tickets to some of their customers that allowed them to have cabins on the port side of the ship (left-hand side in layman’s terms) on the voyage from Britain to India (or beyond) and on the starboard (right-hand side) on the return trip.

The advantage of this would have been that the cabins would be on the shady side of the ship in both directions, and this was preferable during the hottest parts of the voyage beyond the Suez Canal. The company would be able to charge extra for guaranteeing this privilege, so people who could afford “POSH” tickets would therefore be “posh” people!

This is a very neat explanation of how the word came into general use, but there is a fatal flaw with it – it simply isn’t true! The P&O Company have always denied that tickets were issued on this basis and nobody has ever produced a ticket that has POSH printed on it.

This is therefore yet another example of a popular myth that has gained currency because enough people have believed it to be true and have gleefully passed it on to others.

So where did the word come from? Nobody can be absolutely certain, but a possibility is that it derives from 19^th century London street slang for money. The word “posh” occurs in Romany patois, meaning “half”, which was applied to a halfpenny. It may well have gained extra “value” down the years and come to be applied to money in general and not just small sums of it.

Naturally enough, people with lots of money tended to be of a higher social class than those with less of it, so the application of “posh” to the holders of plenty of “posh” is one that is not difficult to imagine.

Maybe well-to-do and aristocratic people sailing off to run the British Empire did ask to have cabins on the shady side of the ship, but if they did that is not what made them “posh”!

© John Welford

Hunky-dory: where does that term originate?

Is everything hunky-dory with you? Let’s hope so, because the expression means that all is well and nothing is happening to disturb or distress you. However, this term, innocent enough as it sounds, has an origin that is somewhat less wholesome than might appear at first sight.

If you have ever seen a performance of Puccini’s opera “Madame Butterfly” you will not need reminding that ships of the United States Navy made frequent visits to Japan during the 19^th century after the US  had forced Japan to accept American trade. American sailors became well acquainted with the streets of Yokohama, and in particular one street where the trade on offer was very much to the liking of young men who were far from home and deprived of female company.

The street was called Honcho-dori, so a sailor who went there was quite likely to have an enjoyable time. Given that the word “hunk” used at one time to mean “well-being” it was not a huge step for “honcho” to become “hunky”.

The original somewhat sordid connotation of the term became lost over time, so that anyone who says today that everything is hunky-dory need not fear that he or she will be misunderstood as making a reference to the red light district of Yokohama!

© John Welford

Have you wound the horologium today?

That thing on the wall or mantlepiece that you glance at when you want to know what time it is – either digital or analogue with hands moving around a dial – used to be called a horologium, but you probably refer to it as a clock. So where did the shorter and more convenient name come from?

The word clock comes from an earlier word meaning “bell”. The origin is probably Celtic – clocca or clagan – which found its way into medieval Latin, old French (cloque) and Middle Dutch (clocke). The modern French word for bell is “cloche”, which is not as close to “clock” as “cloque”.

And therein lies the clue as to how a bell became a clock. In the late 14^th century the main function of a church clock was to tell villagers that it was time to come to church or say their prayers. Before churches had clocks they still had their bells, and these were rung for that purpose. A chiming clock that rang the hours was doing exactly the same thing.

It was not a huge jump from regarding the “cloque” as something you heard to being something you also looked at, especially as the bells in a church tower then had the dual function of being rung as peals and of being activated by the clock mechanism, often with an introductory short chime before counting out the hours.

Incidentally, the modern Dutch word “klok” can still be understood to mean either “clock” or “bell”.

And the practice and study of clock-making is still called horology.

© John Welford

A plea for "Unique"

If you consult a modern dictionary of English and look up the word “unique” you will usually find at least two meanings on offer. These are “the only one within a given set of objects or circumstances” and “remarkable or unusual”. This – to my mind – is unfortunate and I would like to make the case for only the first of these being allowed.

There is no doubt as to where the word comes from. It entered the English language in the 17^th century via French, which in turn got it from the Latin “unicus”, meaning “only”, the root of the word being “unus”, which means “one”. There is therefore no question that the original meaning had nothing to do with “remarkable” or “unusual”.

If you look at a less-than-modern dictionary you are unlikely to find the second meaning offered to you, as this usage has only appeared relatively recently and must be regarded as an informal usage that has crept into common parlance and is therefore recognized by later dictionaries that seek to reflect usage rather than dictate it.

My complaint about the informal usage - which is usually seen when people qualify the term to say that something is “quite unique” or “very unique” – is that an important language tool is being lost. If you stick to the original meaning you have a quick and simple way of saying that there is only one of something – “The Eiffel Tower is a unique structure”, for example. 

However, if you assume that the word means “unusual”, what form of language can you use when you do actually want to say that there is only one of something? You cannot use “very unique” or even “extremely unique”, because these qualifying terms are only stages in a spectrum of meaning. “Very” could imply anything from, say, 70% to 99%, and it is anyone’s guess what you had in mind. “Very” can never mean 100%, and you have thrown away the only word you had at your disposal that pedants like me can use when we mean “the absolutely only one”.

I suppose that is the answer – you would have to say “absolutely unique”, but I am only using one word whereas you have to use two!

© John Welford

A load of Bunkum

We all know the word "bunkum", which means "a load of rubbish" when spoken or written by someone else, but I don't suppose that many people know how the word came to mean what it does.

It all goes back to US Congressman Felix Walker, who was elected in 1816. Not only was he immensely proud of the people that he represented, but he thought that the rest of the House should know all about them as well.

He therefore spoke at length about his district whenever he got the opportunity, which meant every time he was called upon to speak, whether or not the matter at hand was even remotely relevant to his particular bit of North Carolina.

The name of his district was Buncombe County, and the name therefore became a byword for irrelevant rubbish.

© John Welford