Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Scrabbling for meaning.

I'll be honest here. When we play Scrabble, we don't play strictly according to the rules. We have a couple of books with all the words that are allowed in the game listed in them. That's fine, but we don't just use them to make sure someone has played a kosher word.

We actively browse the books to see if what we have is possibly in there. In my father's case, the answer is usually 'no', but then again, this is a man who regularly forgets just where in the alphabet a particular letter may appear. Regardless of the family member though, if something we're convinced/hoping is in the book turns out to only exist in our heads, then we will toss the book disdainfully onto the table and utter the mantra, "Huh - stupid book."

Me and Julie have even gone so far as to extend this activity (when it's just the two of us) enough that the other can pick up a puzzle book and have a go at a sudoku or two while we're waiting. All this while listening to a CD.

Sometimes, however, inspiration strikes and we just slap down the tiles, which isn't always a good idea, because The Book is the final arbiter...





I didn't even dare to ask what she was looking for. It was starting to get a little too metaphysical for my taste.