Scrabble for ideas

It rains cats and dogs during the night. Sunday morning dawns, bleak, damp and with a chill in the air that bites to the bone. Where’s the sunshine? We scrabble – or is that scramble – for ideas.

Do we go for our planned Sunday outing in the rain, or not? Prevaricating over breakfast, a decision is made. Let’s see what the sky says later in the morning.

In the meantime…

A newly acquired Scrabble game begs to be opened. It’s been waiting a week now. Perfect! We spend two hours or so discovering new words, and using old ones.

A word of explanation  

We decide to break a rule and allow dictionary checking so long as the proposed word is declared before Dr Google’s Scrabble Dictionary is consulted. Fingers crossed we hope the online dictionary gives approval.

It’s fun being creative with spellings. We laugh about potential discoveries from absurd combinations, and eyes twinkle in surprise at some that prove to be real words. Always, in the background of these checks is hope. Hope that the letters in our hand will dwindle more quickly, or that the new word will magically give us that brilliant score.

Is there an official Scrabble dictionary?

According to my search on Google, there’s numerous ‘official’ Scrabble Dictionaries. There is “an Official Scrabble Players Dictionary or OSPD, a dictionary developed for use in the game Scrabble, by speakers of American and Canadian English. Merriam-Webster, Inc. Merriam-Webster, Inc.”

I count no less than 12 ‘official dictionaries’ on Amazon! There’s a plethora of words to choose from! Just so long as they are acceptable as Australian English!

In my childhood home, I remember a massive tome of words, our very own Webster Dictionary having pride of place. I believe my brother laid claim to it years ago.

I am amused

We each grew up in households that played Scrabble. I suspect mine played less often than my partners did. He recalls playing ‘quite a lot’ in his teen years. We each grew up with different applications of the rules, and this is to his advantage. He sees words in ways my mind is not yet attuned to. Quite simply, in our games, we could place a word on the board – one word. We usually saw it linked to a letter.

My partner sees letters create a word that links up with other letters to create more than one word. He meshes words together! It is an easy skill for my partner. I need a scrabble board of words to show you what I mean! This inbuilt habitual way of seeing the board and his ability to create great scores amazes me.

Cheat!

We each used to play online Scrabble for a while. My partner is so darn good at finding words and matching letters to create two or more words in the one ‘go’, that he was accused by his online players, of cheating. I can assure you; he doesn’t cheat! He doesn’t need to!

An hour or so later, it’s game over. I add up my remaining letters and boost his score by five points. He doesn’t need the extra. He’s won by a rather large margin!

Family fun

I like board games. Lots of family fun nights. Monopoly, Squatter, Scrabble and Yahtzee are just a few I recall as a kid and still play. Holidays were our fun nights for games.

My other option on a rainy day is to read a book, a solitary choice. You can check out some here. Today’s game of Scrabble was simply good fun. We hit the target. It turned a drizzly kind of morning into sunshine.

We hit the target 🙂 Picture_ Pexels

What do you do on a rainy day? Please let me know below or by clicking here and scrolling to the end of the post.

***

Pull out all the stops

I search for suitable music to inspire me to write today. I pull out all the stops, scroll through several playlists and stumble across Spotify’s Classical Summer compilation.

Promises of selections by composers include three well-knowns –

  • Beethoven, (not my favourite composer – too ‘heavy’)
  • Bach (‘lovely and light’) and
  • Chopin (likeable)

…. make for restful listening.

Although, depending on who I listen to, symphonic music is not always an easy listen. Like Beethoven. I find his music heavy and downright sleep-inducing. I hope I’ve chosen wisely.

Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge - a 'pull out all the stops' type of holiday
Panorama of Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House

A pause in pulling out all the stops

I pick up a novel I finished recently. Winner of the Women’s Prize, The Song of Achilles by Madeleine Miller is a well-paced read I found difficult to put down. I flick it open, ready to write a review.

Inside the cover I find two tickets I used as book marks. One took me on a tour of the Sydney Opera House and the second, to Saint-Saen’s Organ Symphony the same night.

My review is deferred

I learn a great deal about the Sydney Opera House on my tour. I discover –

  • It was designed by Danish architect Jørn Utzon. Something I knew, but had forgotten.
  • It took fourteen years to build. Also knew this, but also forgotten.
  • Building commenced in 1959, four years after I was born and was officially opened the year after I commenced university, in 1973. I recall Her majesty, Queen Elizabeth II visiting for the official opening.
  • In 2023 it was 50 years old. I am clearly much older.
  • Costs began at $7million and blew out to $102 million dollars! The purchase of lotto tickets helped subsidize the build. I didn’t I contributed. I live in WA, capital – Perth. It was a State Lottery.
  • Utzon, the original architect never saw the finished building. He got ticked off over the numerous changes to the original plans and quit in 1966.
  • And – the point of this piece of writing – it houses the largest mechanical tracker organ in the world. You can read about it being the largest in the world, how it is played and who has the privilege of playing it, here and here.
  • When I see the organ I liken it to the WA Goldfields Pipeline! Meaning, the pipes are HUGE!

And that organ is, according to my brilliant and information packed tour guide, only played around 4 times a year. I think he means for 4 different ticketed ‘shows’.

pull out all the stops on this organ!
Sydney Opera House organ pipes

What? Only 4 times!

I cannot resist the opportunity to experience one of those occasions.

Over lunch, part of my ticketed tour, I search for online tickets. I can’t decide on a seat. I know it’s not supposed to matter where you sit in the concert hall. Every detail is acoustically optimized.

Recently refurbished within an inch of its life around 2020, it took two years to complete. The original acoustics were short changed (ie not enough money) and hence, of poor quality, apparently. Today it boasts –

  • massive speakers
  • carefully designed wooden panelling around the walls that are acoustically friendly
  • pink, vaulted tile-shaped shells that hang from the ceiling
  • and other features listed here.
Sydney Opera Hall acoustics – capturing the magnificent size is challenging.

The concert pulls out all the stops

I am blown away – moved to tears – by the sheer beauty of the rendition of St Saen’s Symphony. The organist, Olivier Latry, is given latitude to play above – or more loudly – than other instruments. He pulls out all the stops in a brilliant performance.

The term ‘pull out all stops’ originated with the pipe organ. When a player pulls the organ’s stops out, more air flows through the pipes and the volume increases. Pulling out all the stops results in extremely loud, energetic music. In every day use, the the phrase also means to use all resources available to achieve an outcome.

Typical concert chats with co-fans sitting next to me reveal at least one attends this symphony any time he can – to date that’s 5, or 6 times! Clearly he’s pulling out all the stops to listen to a favourite!

Who was he?

Saint-Saen was a musical prodigy, rivalling his contemporary, Mozart, and liked Bach, according to some background reading here. Even though the critique is offered by a Pulitzer Prize winner, Mozart remains my favourite.

It both amazes and amuses me that Saint-Saen’s contemporaries like Schumann, Liszt, Wagner, Verdi – are names I am familiar with. In my early childhood I learnt some of their pieces on my grandmother’s piano. (You can read about my childhood piano here.) But I didn’t play around on the organ long enough to move past church hymns.

Where to from here?

My serendipitous choice of Classical Summer music makes me smile. It reflects the very composers Saint-Saen’s talent is compared with and the contemporary he enjoyed. How could that be? I had no idea about this composer, famous for his organ symphony, until that Friday night concert in the Opera House. Nor of his history, until I read about him (of course!).

I add a previously unknown composer (to me) to my repertoire of incredibles and listen, once again to a rendition I find on You tube of the Symphony in C: Organ – the whole symphony, here and of the Finale alone, here.

Have you been to the Opera House? Or have you discovered a piece of music or composer in an unexpected moment that brings joy? Please let me know below or by clicking the link here and scrolling to the end of the post.

***

Smash Repairs

9 am start. Pick me up from the Smash Repairs? he asks.

When? Oh, 9am? Okay. Where?

He tells me, again. The local Smash Repairs.

Why is he going to the local smash repair workshop?

He’s getting the ugly slash of a dent removed from his almost brand-new all-wheel-drive. In fact, the entire boot is being replaced. $4K! For a dent! $500 excess! It’s expensive parking in our local grocery store car park. Too-narrow car bays, too little room between this side and that to reverse in or out. Unknown perpetrator of the car wound has left his or her mark. Argh!

Okay. 9am. I pace myself. Alarm for 7.15. Yes, it takes me an hour to wake up, and half an hour to get ready. It means a window of about five minutes or so to ‘get there’, the repairs workshop, where I am to dutifully collect from the roadside.

His pride and joy for low key camping trips. Once pristine, now at the smash repairs.

What? Now?!

He calls out – ‘see you there’. It’s 8.30! It’s 5-7 minute drive, just down the road! I’m still naked, freshly showered, putting on my face in the bathroom.

You’re leaving too early! (He always does. Why didn’t I factor this in?!)

‘See you when you get there’, I hear.

The muffled sound of a diesel motor gurgles into life. Muffled because it is in the carport and I am in the bathroom.

I never quite got the sound of non-petrol cars. Once upon a childhood time, when I was a farm girl, diesel sounds belonged to tractors, trucks, heavy duty farm vehicles. Anyway, his choice, diesel I mean – and to leave at, what is now, 8.31.

I do not, read again, do not hurry – to get to the Smash Repairs!

It’s chilly, crispy, borderline winter cold. As I pull up curbside, a large slither of guilt oozes its way into my heart. I don’t like being in the cold. Neither does he. He’s been standing, waiting for my 3 minutes past 9, late, arrival.

Belt up!

It took a few minutes to cross the highway

He explains his early arrival. As do I, why the 3-minute oversight. Too much traffic on the highway I had to cross.

He explains. He likes to arrive early to talk about the work to be done, pay the excess and…

I don’t really care! For me, if I have a 9 am start it means I arrive at 9am! At which time I discuss the job, and ‘pay the excess’, and…

We laugh. We poke our tongues out at each other. Mirth sparkles from his gentle brown eyes. Rarely annoyed over anything, he suggests breakfast ‘out’ in the same breath and space as I am turning my petrol-run hatch toward my already pre-chosen – already thought about it – breakfast out, direction. “Snap”! We laugh again.

Choose a different way

‘Don’t go that way!’ I do. I know the shortcut via a lane. “Pretty Lane” it’s called. Because it is. A lane lined with Aussie bush. A shortcut between the light industrial, smash repairs, tire replacements, auto fix-it businesses and ‘A Patch of Country’ café in the heart of the local shopping zone. The zone where the culprit pinged his car.

I’ve avoided the highway I had to cross earlier. I’ve bumped my hatch over the curb into and out of the lane. We’ve enjoyed the patch of winter green bush, with its rich grass trees wearing their skirts and slender gums that create a canopy. We skirt a roundabout or two and park near the cafe.

Grass trees and Aussie bush…a summer’s take of our winter scene

Smashed Avocado or not?

Our chosen bacon and egg sandwich with toasted ciabatta and salmon eggs Benedict without avocado café is a quaint, old original farm house. Complete with wood paneled walls, galvanized iron roof and wide wooden floor board verandah. It is a little patch reminiscent of country life with a modern menu of almond milk flat whites and cappuccinos on a sun-warmed verandah. Or, it’s where you can enjoy inside warmth amidst local artisan’s crafts, available for purchase. A quaint place, with excellent service, country-style friendliness and waitresses (or should I say waitpersons?) with smiles and laughter that radiate into this early spring-like morning.

We smile across the table, indulging in the retirement privilege of breakfast out. Of a late or early morning start to the day – whatever we permit ourselves to call it after 9am.

Or was that 8.31?

I’ve written about other mini adventures in my own backyard here, and about being a local tourist here.