It was a word I’d never heard before. They said it on Radio 4 Extra Podcast hour, using it in a way and without explanation, the assumption being, clearly, that most people would know it. I didn’t and nor did he. He looked it up for me on his iPad. It’s something to do with assuming a fake online identity for nefarious means. Does it relate to cats? Or to catfish? Perhaps the latter – aping their habit of skulking along the sea bed (or aquarium). It’s an evocative word, nevertheless.
Ah, Jane Austen. I joined the course seeking something particular, though what that really was I am not so sure – confidence, a deeper awareness of her language so that I could mimic it in my short story – either way I’m finding something else. I like this delving. I like this uncovering. Her brilliance is evident. And my growing knowledge of it may in fact close me down entirely, that is as far as my fiction-writing is concerned. I don’t know. I don’t know anything except the pleasure I get from learning.
Hoovered (or should I say Dyson-ed) the kitchen floor and mopped, it is enough for my beleaguered arm. I have studying to do today. Tea for me and coffee for him first.
It is trying to clear up out there but the clouds still look ominous.
