The Horologicon by Mark Forsyth

Author:Mark Forsyth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2013-09-08T16:00:00+00:00

. . . we never have any tea but on Sundays, for it will not do for a hardworking family, and many of our neighbours call it Scandal broth.

The Victorians, in a rare fit of simplicity, just had:

BITCH, tea; “a bitch party,” tea drinking.

Anyway, the kettle should have boiled now and the tea should be drawing. It must not do so for too long or it will be overdrawn and potty—which is to say, tasting of the teapot. So grasp the handle of the teapot (technically called the boul, which is also the name for the little finger holes in scissors) and pour the bitch into a teacup.

Skeuomorphs

The handle of the common or garden teacup is a classic example of a skeuomorph. In the nineteenth century, when photography was still in nappies, exposure times were so long that people who were walking would be blurred. They would have ghosts flowing out behind them. It was this that introduced the idea in paintings and drawings that movement could be indicated by lines flying out behind a moving object. Photography changed our visual ideas and that changed representations in other mediums. The viewer looks at a blurred drawing and thinks: “Ah, the chap’s running. I know that because of the technological failings of photography.” Think about it: have you ever actually seen a runner with lines coming out of their back?

There’s a technical term for this: it’s skeuomorphic. A skeuomorph is a technological limitation that is deliberately imitated even when it’s no longer necessary. My digital camera has a little loudspeaker that emits a clicking noise when I take a photograph, just like an old mechanical camera.

Once upon a time there were teacups whose handles you might reasonably fit your fingers through. They were handles that you could, well, handle. But now they remain purely as skeuomorphic decoration, a mere memory of usefulness.

Now that the tea is ready and piping hot, it’s time to summon your fellow thermopotes (or drinkers of hot drinks). You could do this with the rather dull shout of “Tea’s up,” but for a bit of tropical allure there’s nothing like this entry in an eighteenth-century dictionary:

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