The title of this post is a collection of letters in lower case typed randomly without looking. Not sure what the chances are of replicating that ‘word’ would be via the same method but that is of no significance whatsoever. Safe to say this word will not make the OED.

It is wonderful how words, originally just means of communication, are a form of art. One of my fave opening lines in a book is

“Snowflakes the size of old pennies were falling in the top left hand corner of Wales.”

That is a fabulous opening line. Beautiful. You can just picture the scene. It’s probably one of the few opening lines to a book that I can remember, it created that much of an impression on me. The other one is 

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” 

That is a famous one. It has its own different beauty to the first. They both describe a scene in completely different ways. That’s art for you.

I have some favourite poems but no favourite pictures. Maybe it’s just me. Years ago when my dad retired they went on holiday for three months and he asked me if I could recommend some reading material. I struggled. Basically my own judgement and reputation was on the line. If dad didn’t think much of the book it would reflect on me. Or that was my thinking at the time.

I only managed to find 5 books out of the hundreds I had on the shelf (this was maybe thirty years ago – I have a lot more now) that I felt comfortable with recommending. Can’t remember what they all are now though I could probably put my mind to it.

It probably wouldn’t have mattered to dad who had different reading tastes to me anyway. Also in those days my books would have been mainly fiction. Nowadays it is rare for me to buy fiction; probably just don’t do it at all. My reading is growing increasingly niche. Each to their own 🙂

The inside of the shed is covered with pictures. Posters, signs, photos, maps and the occasional drawing and print, notably a limited edition print of the Black Boy Inn in Caernarfon which is a particularly favourite haunt of ours. Lots of maps. How else would I find my way around?

Now watching snooker in the shed. V colourful game is snooker. The masters is on. I quite like watching snooker although I’m totally rubbish at it meself. I suspect it is as much to do with the fact that I wear specs than a lack of ability. Difficult to focus when looking over my specs down a cue. 

Anyway I digress. Not sure from what, but digress I do. Sounds like the title of someone’s autobiography. ‘Digress I do’. Doubt anyone would want to read it. Who would want to read a book that kept jumping about from subject to subject. 

Could call it ‘aodksjhfodjfhoa, the art of digression’. An alternative might be ‘aodksjhfodjfhoa, the art of just about anything you like’ on the basis that it isn’t really a word. Because it doesn’t really mean anything it could be applied to many situations. However it does have some artistic merit. Not much but some.

aodksjhfodjfhoa isn’t in the same league as philistate which is of course a real word. However I don’t like to chuck words away so I will not hasten to discard aodksjhfodjfhoa. I will leave it here as a record of a moment in time. I could even put it in my google docs dictionary but I won’t. I have as little faith in it as you. Totes waste of time. At least I got a post out of it.

Some people might wonder why I write this drivel. Well it isn’t drivel in my book. You know the one: ‘aodksjhfodjfhoa, the art of.’ Coming to a book shop near you. In due course.

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