Favourite Words

Magazine interviews often ask questions such as, 'How often do you have sex?' or 'Where were you happiest?' One of the questions that comes up from time to time is, 'What is your favourite word?'

I'm amazed there are not more answers of the 'It depends' type. I could never answer that question finally, once and for all and indeed have some words I overuse - indeed, absolutely, quite, just, realise, appeared to name but however many that was - but they are not my favourites.

My current favourite words are these, for they define the quest of the next twelve months:

It. I don't know what 'it' is but I am looking for people who have got 'it'. I have spent all my life looking for and trying to work with people who have 'it'. Amount of 'it' discovered in North Somerset so far? Zero. Blame for this lies entirely with me. Must be using the wrong type of search or missing some very obvious 'it' right in front of my nose.

Edgey. People who live their lives close to an edge of some sort tend not to fear the drop as much as others. Edgey people try lots of things, not fearing the consequences, noting that some of them work and eliminating others from their enquiries. Amount of edgeyness found in North Somerset so far? A little. A glimmer. A drip.

Cool. I use the word cool a lot. It is, as one person once took the trouble of writing to a local newspaper to say in response to my use of it in a piece, a shibboleth. Quite. Or even, absolutely. Are you cool? I do not use it to demonstrate my own cool, for coolness is in the eye of the fridge opener. I think Zaphod Beeblebox (what do you mean, who?) claimed he was so cool you could keep meat fresh in his pocket, which simply proved how cool Douglas Adams was, but you can only claim cool if you can claim it coolly. 300,000 people moved to the west country in the last decade. It is, apparently, a cool place to live. Call me.

Oomph. It isn't enough to have it, edginess and cool. We need oomph. Without bang engines don't work on suck, squeeze and blow alone. Desperately avoiding sexual metaphor I continue... without an energy level of oomph nothing happens. I walk in to too many rooms at the moment where the energy level is so low I trip over it. Last night at the main, monthly, parish prayer meeting there were three people. Are we all tired? Do we need a year off? How cool and edgey would that be ... this church will be closed for a year. Go do something else. Would that be useful?

This got beyond favourite words and turned into a flight of edgey fancy. Mind the drop. No offence. I'm tired too.