Let me admit at the outset that my grasp of grammar and spelling are, (sorry is), not perfect. My saving grace is that I usually know if something looks wrong. On the downside, the older I get, the more I seem to lose confidence in whether a word should have an ‘e’ or an ‘a’, or an ‘s’ or a ‘z’ etc etc.
I don’t believe in correcting the spelling or grammatical errors of others on social media, even though I am often sorely tempted. To do so would be rude and pointless. How sad it is when those with dyslexia or whose English is a second language become afraid to communicate. Besides, ‘sticky’ keys, predictive text and autocorrect are surely to blame in many cases.
Here is another reason why it’s unwise to respond to grammatical gaffes;
Recently a woman in a photography group I belong to meant to write ‘what a shot‘ , and apologized profusely when another word appeared. Fortunately, group members took it in right spirit and tried to make her feel better;
Norm’s surname was such a humour bonus.
Sometimes errors have rather wonderful, if entirely inadvertent outcomes. Take this beauty for example……someone wrote recently; ‘It was a complete insalt’‘ . Oh that delightful connotation of salt in the wounds of the person suffering the affront.
It’s a bit unfair of me to include a Macca’s sign, but just impossible to resist given all the complaints re hygiene in restaurants.
GETTING THOSE APHORISMS GLORIOUSLY WRONG
During the current pandemic someone apologized on social media for having lost their cool in a local shop. My favourite response to the person who posted was; ‘ That’s totally understandable, we are all on such tender hooks at the moment.‘ Well, we have certainly all been feeling strung-up! Yes, I do know the derivation of tenterhooks, but let’s not destroy my point, so to speak.
In no way am I trivializing the issue of duck shooting, but this recent glitch was simply too good to pass up;
And how could I ignore this almost daily, social media blunder. The expression is bated breath, peeps, not baited! 😨
Perhaps the following is a fitting finale. My husband and I were shocked and amused when we spotted this huge sign in central London.
A friend contacted the Mayor of London’s office, but a few years later the error not been corrected. I must ask my friend to check again.
By the way, my husband’s name is Rob, but due to the proximity of B and N on the keyboard, many people think I am married to Ron Conolly.
For the story of The Little Red Book, my grammatical Christmas gift (please excuse the swearword …or is it swear word?), CLICK HERE.
FEEL FREE TO LEAVE COMMENTS, WHICH I AWAIT WITH ‘BAITED’ BREATH. BUT DO NOT CORRECT MY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS!
