(Warning: coming up over the next few weeks - or whenever I get around to it - will be a series of blog equivalents of that longlost 1950s suburban 'entertainment': long, dull slide nights of all the things I saw and did over the last month.)
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
What I Did on My Holidays I
Got annoyed, yet again, at the use by the British 'hospitality' (and there's another abused word, right there) industry of the word 'discretionary':
I should make clear that I have nothing against a service charge being levied - it is the dishonesty of calling it 'discretionary' when it is not (try querying it and see what happens, if you don't believe me).
(Warning: coming up over the next few weeks - or whenever I get around to it - will be a series of blog equivalents of that longlost 1950s suburban 'entertainment': long, dull slide nights of all the things I saw and did over the last month.)
(Warning: coming up over the next few weeks - or whenever I get around to it - will be a series of blog equivalents of that longlost 1950s suburban 'entertainment': long, dull slide nights of all the things I saw and did over the last month.)
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Why don't we have slide nights any more? No home movie evenings either. Why do we let our friends off the hook with "discretionary" viewing of our photos on blogs, flickr and facebook? Where are the reels and reels of children running in and out of the ocean in jerky black and white, with the film occasionally jamming under the hot projection light to the point of bubbling and melting in psychedelic screen images??
ReplyDeleteThat is inspired, Granny
DeleteDiscretionary: "regulated by one's own discretion or judgment." I think in Australia you might be able to win this battle and not pay it, if you were willing to bother arguing for 20 minutes over 40 cents on the cost of the smoothie.
ReplyDeleteI don't think I've seen this usage here though. Perhaps I haven't been vigilant enough
DeleteRe: Polly's comment - don't forget that wonderful moment of anticipation at the beginning, when the film is picked up by the rear spool and the sound of the projector changes. I was born in the 60s, so we had Super 8 colour films and I remember dark winter evenings, enjoying vivd blue skies and sunny beaches, whilst the projector's fan blasted us with warm air and the faint odour of burning plastic. Happy days.
ReplyDeleteNostalgia ain't what it used to be, Steerforth (I have a couple of DVDs of hours of films taken in Northern Ireland in the 50s and 60s by my cousin's father that I can copy for you and Polly, should either of you need an urgent blast from the past. They flicker, they feature children running in and out of the sea, they contain scenes that no-one can recognise; I'd have to admit though that, being Northern Ireland, they don't feature a great deal of sun.
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