Day 26: Etymology

Dedicated to: Richard Connolly

Marian is sat in her armchair, trying to remember where she’s put the crossword down, when Bryony arrives.

“Hello Mum.”

“Oh, hello dear!”

“You remembered I was coming?” says Bryony, planting a kiss on her mum’s cheek.

“Of course I did!”

 “Have you done your shopping list?”

“I was just about to.”

Marian grabs an old envelope, feeling like the child all of a sudden.

“While you’re up, can you get me a… a… you know the thingy…”

Bryony raises her eyebrows quizzically as Marian makes a wiggling motion with her hand.

“Pen?”

“A pen yes, there’s some in the credenza.”

Bryony finds one and passes it over.

“Only you would forget the word ‘pen’ but remember ‘credenza.’”

“Do you know why a credenza is called a credenza dear?”

“You can tell me when you’ve done your list.”

“Well I might have forgotten by then and then you’ll never know!”

“I’ll take that risk.”

“Suit yourself.”

Ignoring her daughter’s instructions to make a shopping list, Marian starts writing her favourite words on the back of the envelope instead. She smiles to herself as she remembers her honeymoon with Arthur, when she first learned to do crosswords. 

2 down: Does the Czar need somewhere to store his plates? (8 letters)

The answer was ‘credenza’ – an anagram of ‘Czar’ and ‘need’, it was the first cryptic crossword answer that she ever got.

‘Why’s it called a credenza?’ she’d asked.

Arthur hadn’t known, so they’d gone to the B&B reception and asked for a dictionary.

It came from the Italian word for ‘credence’ or ‘trust’, from Mediaeval times when servants tasted food for poison before serving it to noblemen. Thus it became the name for the table where food was tasted, and then where plates were kept. It was a lovely word. From then on, they only ever called sideboards credenzas.   

It was Art and crosswords that gave Marian her love of words, she realises now. She’d always liked them, but it wasn’t until then that she realised they weren’t just sounds and shapes. Each one was an artefact in its own right, with history and a story. Every single word she used was a salute to the past. From the moment she started acquiring language, she was building her own museum.

And now, as she loses these words, her body is taking her mind’s place as the museum. As she fails to recall the word ‘pen’ and commemorate her ancestors, her body has become the relic – a whole history spanning three quarters of a century contained within its flesh. Flesh is another good word. She writes it down.

“What are you doing?” asks Bryony.

“Making my list.”

“Why are you smiling? Can I see it?”

Sheepishly, Marian passes the envelope. Bryony looks down at the words she’s written:

Crunchy

Palimpsest

Labrador

Emollient

Moiety

Flesh

“Mum, what is this?”

“My list.”

“This is a list of things you need?” Bryony is getting frustrated.

“Oh, very much!”

“Look, I’m just going to check your fridge and I’ll make a list.”

“Good idea. Remember duck.”

“Since when do you eat duck?”

“I don’t dear... It was your first word.”

Words: 524

Challenge: 'A life-changing philosophical breakthrough, brought on by a common household item'