67 and Gunga Din

I forgot to mention that our options yesterday were limited by the weather, which was wet. Not that they would have opted for a jolly walk on the beach anyway!

I've been a bit apathetic today. That's the trouble when I don't have a schedule. But we've just been for a nice walk so that's made me feel better. Of course, my photos are playing up so I can't show the pretty trees. 

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So dictionary.com has named 67 as its 2025 Word of the Year. You wouldn't get Mr Chambers suggesting that I'm sure.

I'd never heard of it until the other day. It originated in 2024 from a rapper's song about a 6'7" basketball player. Here's what dictionary.com says about it:

While the term is largely nonsensical, some argue it means “so-so,” or “maybe this, maybe that,” especially when paired with a hand gesture where both palms face up and move alternately up and down.

Because of its murky and shifting usage, it’s an example of brainrot slang and is intended to be nonsensical and playfully absurd.

And here's what it says about brainrot:

Brainrot, sometimes spelled brain rot, is a slang term used to describe the effects of being “perpetually online” and consuming large amounts of low-value internet content.

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So from the ridiculous to the sublime, though sublime might not be an appropriate description. The phrase, "You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din," popped into my head today, as these things do. My gran used to say it but I never knew the origins. As I was considering using the sentence in my next article I thought I'd better check it out.

It comes, as many of you probably know, from the poem, Gunga Din, by Rudyard Kipling, and tells of a Hindu water carrier serving British troops in India. The man is subjected to all sorts of racist abuse before sacrificing his life to save a soldier. 

A sympathetic reading of the poem might suggest it's about the soldier's change of mindset but it's not a comfortable read.

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And finally my phone and computer are talking.

As I've written before, when our children were young and we took them to Derby to visit grandparents, Grandma would tell them it was lucky to catch a leaf in October. I don't believe in luck but I still love the challenge of trying - and failing - to catch a leaf.

It's much harder than you might think.