No longer sharing my thoughts with my dad…

When I started blogging 18 years ago I chose a tagline: ‘Rob Skinner shares his thoughts with the world’. Then I reflected that seemed rather boastful – the world wouldn’t care what I thought. So I added a tongue in cheek qualification. The final line read, ‘Rob Skinner shares his thoughts with the world – or his dad’.

It proved a fair reflection of my limited audience. Dad and I often discussed my blogposts, and I was delighted when he started his own blog as the first Covid-19 lockdown began in 2020. (We later turned that into a Kindle book, as the BBC reported.) One of his own last blogposts, the month before he died, about cinema, was prompted by my reflections on childhood cinemas.

After Dad died last February, I occasionally thought the old tagline was poignant rather than apt. But I was reluctant to remove it. But now, 11 months after Dad passed away, and a year after that father and son blogging double act, seems the right time to do so.

Dad (Bob Skinner) in 2005 outside the house he moved to when war broke out in 1939

Like most people who have lost a parent, I miss the chance to ask Dad a question about a hundred and one things. For example, when I blogged recently (Echoes of 1939) about his evacuation from London to stay with his aunt in Splott, Cardiff, at the outbreak of the second world war, I realised I had no idea how he got to Cardiff. Train? Coach? Alone or with his mother? Sadly, I will never know. But I have a lifetime of memories, not to mention Dad’s written memories and archives.

PS: for the record, a screenshot of this post with the old tagline, before I retire it.

Postscript

Ahzio’s lovely comment on this post – that I should keep the tagline mentioning my father – prompted me to change it to a dedication to both Dad and Mum, former journalists who inspired my love of writing.

Battling the English language

The English language is constantly changing. New words and phrases reflect evolving lifestyles and new technology. Back in 2000 no one had heard of the words podcast, vape or selfie – or the phrases post-truth or carbon footprint.

Some changes are more subtle. Take this headline in a column on 7 January 2024 from the Observer’s chief political commentator, Andrew Rawnsley. Until recently the headline would have talked about fighting, not battling, the Tories. But now the verb ‘to fight’ seems in terminal decline, at least outside the literal context of a street brawl. It’s a classic example of a noun becoming a verb.

I confess to feeling irritated by the verbal triumph of battle over fight. Yet I don’t bat an eyelid at hoovering or Googling, or reading that a strike is impacting commuters – and countless other examples of nouns becoming verbs. The difference, I think, is that ‘to battle’ has become almost ubiquitous in place of ‘to fight’. It is a linguistic example of groupthink, which is surprisingly common amongst professional writers and communicators. People who dislike a phrase often find themselves using it once it has grown commonplace.

Here’s another example, from The Times (Robert Lee, 22 December 2023). In the past, reporters would have written that ‘Britain and Brussels agreed to delay’… But for some reason the simple word ‘agree’ was usurped by the phrase ‘signed off’. In time even that was seen as too simple and became ‘signed off on‘. It’s hard to see any reason for this. In the past, sub editors would have ruthlessly cut any superfluous words. No longer. Executing [a plan or strategy] is now executing on. That extra word is completely unnecessary: pure padding.

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