Whenever I surprise myself by somehow getting my head around some arcane (to me) computer technique—like a screenshot, or a widget (What kind of language do you call that, ask the Plain People of Ireland), I recall Alan Bennett’s 1984 diary entry:
1 October, London. I mend a puncture on my bike. I get pleasure out of being able to do simple, practical jobs—mending a fuse, changing a wheel, jump-starting the car—because these are not accomplishments generally associated with a temperament like mine. I tend to put sexual intercourse in this category too.
Stephen Jones: a blog 
Pingback: Chinese mouth-organs and Irish flutes | Stephen Jones: a blog
did I tell you my son went for an audition, opened a door and found himself in a room with seven Alan Bennetts. He was the eighth. They all had fairish hair pulled down in a fringe, glasses and were muttering to themselves in Yorkshire accents. He later got a better part in the same series (The Crown) as a scriptwriter x
LikeLike
And what might the collective measure-word for a gaggle of Bennetts, eh? I think we should be told. Presumably not Paul’s fallback option (https://stephenjones.blog/2017/02/05/language-acquisition/).
This also seems to relate to https://stephenjones.blog/2016/11/24/exposure/
LikeLike
Pingback: New audio playlist! | Stephen Jones: a blog
Pingback: Love, Nina | Stephen Jones: a blog
Pingback: A career highlight for Alan Bennett | Stephen Jones: a blog
Pingback: In the kitchen | Stephen Jones: a blog