‘Souse’ – a peculiar, elusive word. Also bike bum bruises, and frightening photgraphs

Here is a very funny poem. If you do not like poems then simply read the bit i have highlighted for you, and proceed to the end, where I will put to you a BURNING QUESTION.

Matilda, (Who told Lies, and was Burned to Death).
By Hilaire Belloc

 

Matilda told such dreadful lies,
It made one gasp and stretch one’s eyes;
Her aunt, who, from her earliest youth,
Had kept a strict regard for truth,
Attempted to believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,
And would have done so, had not she
Discovered this infirmity.
For once, towards the close of day,
Matilda, growing tired of play
And finding she was left alone,
Went tiptoe to the telephone
And summoned the immediate aid
Of London’s nobel Fire-Brigade.
Within an hour the gallant band
Were pouring in on every hand,
From Putney, Hackney Downs and Bow,
With courage high and hearts a-glow
They galloped, roaring though the town,
“Matilda’s house is burning down”
Inspired by British cheers and loud
Proceeding from the frenzied crowd,
They ran their ladders through a score
Of windows on the ball-room floor;
And took peculiar pains to souse
The pictures up and down the house,
Until Matilda’s aunt succeeded
In showing them they were not needed
And even then she had to pay
To get the men to go away!
. . . . .
It happened that a few weeks later
Here aunt was off to the Theatre
To see that interesting play
The Second Mrs Tanqueray.
She had refused to take her niece
To hear this entertaining piece:
A deprivation just and wise
To punish her for telling lies.
That night a fire did break out-
You should have heard Matilda shout!
You should have heard her scream and bawl,
And throw the window up and call
To people passing in the street-
(The rapidly increasing heat
Encouraging her to obtain
Their confidence)-but all in vain!
For every time she shouted “Fire!”
They only answered “Little Liar!”
And therefore when her aunt returned,
Matilda, and the house, were burned.
 

 

 

Now you may wonder, as I did, as did Joy, and in turn George, what this curious word ‘Souse’ means.

I looked it up on www.dictionary.com. Usually this works a treat but this time I my curiousity was not appeased at all:

–verb (used with object)
1. to plunge into water or other liquid; immerse.
2. to drench, as with water.
3. to dash or pour, as water.
4. to steep in pickling brine; pickle.

–verb (used without object)

5. to plunge into water or other liquid.
6. to be soaked or drenched.
7. to be steeping or soaking in something.

–noun

8. an act of sousing.
9. something kept or steeped in pickle, esp. the head, ears, and feet of a pig.
10. a liquid used as a pickle.
11. Slang. a drunkard.
[Origin: 1350–1400; 1915–20 for def. 11; (n.) ME sows < MF souce pickled < Gmc (akin to salt1); (v.) ME sousen, deriv. of the n.]
—Synonyms 2. soak, wet.
What do you think?? From what the definition says, we could assume that the men are wetting the paintings because they think the house is burning, and they would not like the pictures to burn. George suggested maybe they were moving the pictures about in a drunken manner. Joy originally thought perhaps the men were dragging the pictures about. Maybe they are pickling the pictures. Anyone know?
By the way, I suppose it’s only fair to tell you how I’m doing. Well, I can’t wait to move to Minehead, pants as Minehead may be, but really I just can’t wait to belong to a place again, I don’t like the feeling of not having settled properly anywhere. Am looking forward to putting down roots, finding some friends, hopefully a 2nd job too. Other than that, umm, yesterday I went to London, which was expensive (the getting there) as well as the being there (NZ$48 on a BRACELET) ((a very nice bracelet)) which I realised after with no small amount of horror. But I was shown around by a lovely chap called George who I met through Gumtree.com. Don’t worry, I’m very safe blah blah, it was in a public place so upon discovering that George was actually a axe murderer I could run away. He’s not, by the way. An axe murderer, that is.
At least i don’t think so. I hope not, that would be a certain failure on my part to make friends.
So today I was in a rather glum state of mind, after having come down off the high of talking to a REAL HUMAN and being in LONDON. I am now reminded that actually, I am quite alone.  Which so far I have tackled with suprising cheer and nonchalance. I went for a bike ride but it wasn’t the same cause my bum still hurts from the last time I went for a bike ride. Anyone else get that? Like a big bruise on your bum that you only notice upon seating yourself for the second time on a bike seat? I suppose it only happens to those who have the bad manners to not go bike-riding very often. Sigh.
Oh, funny story. I put this ad on gumtree for travel buddies and got a lot of WEIRD replies (sad people looking for love mostly), but by far the oddest was a reply saying ‘are you a scam? you don’t look like a scam but perhaps you are’
Now my common sense told me that anyone who says something like that isn’t really worth replying to but I must’ve been feeling a bit distracted cause I replied saying, yeah, i’m real, hi.
The next email I got from him began with ‘Nice you are not a scam as reward you get a smile.’ .. ok, I have no idea what that means, bit weird. He went on to detail lots of luxurious expensive holiday’s he’d like to go on- one of them ‘a hut in the mountains next to a lake(third of it above the water) in Norway but it’s quite tough’ ..the last place you want to find yourself in is a cabin two thirds immersed in water with a stranger. The email finished with this:
which scares me shitless. I promptly provided some terrible excuse for never wanting to go travelling with the weirdo.
Love Lu

August 16, 2008. Tags: , , , , , , . Adventures in England, Suitable for all audiences, at home in Much Hadham, stuff i've found. 6 comments.