Ice Cream or Custard with your Question Mark?


How important is a question mark.

How important is a question mark?

It’s the difference between a statement and a question, that’s how important it is. This became very apparent during a text conversation about that most vital of subjects – PUDDING. The first sentence above is a declarative statement, the second is, undoubtedly, a question. It has a question mark – that’s the give-away!

So, how did this topic become embroiled in a discussion of pudding? Easy, due to the lack of this clever little punctuation mark, two of us both thought the other had got it sorted.

S: [She’s blonde so will remain quite anonymous for her own dignity]

Got pudding sorted for Sunday

Me: [ Noting the absolute lack of any helpful punctuation to the contrary]



Me: See you then

End of conversation. ‘S’ and her family were coming to mine on the Sunday and I had mentioned a few days earlier that I still hadn’t decided what to do for afters. I took her text as a statement [no question mark, none whatsoever m’lud] and thought to myself ‘Well, that’s nice of her, she’s bringing something, saves me the bother’.

Sunday comes, they turn up. I have dinner cooking in the oven, and look at her expectantly to see what she’s brought. ‘Pudding?’ I ask, realising there are no carrier bags, cake boxes or other such potential containers of yumminess. ‘You said you’d sorted it.’ she replied. ‘No,’ says I, ‘you said you had’. I then show her exhibit 1, the text.

‘I was asking you if you’d sorted it!’ she explained, looking quite bemused that I could possibly have misunderstood.

‘Where’s the question mark then?’ I asked.

‘Oh Mother!’ she replied, exasperated ‘ you and your grammar’.

But, the lack of punctuation meant a lack of pudding. Try telling that to two small boys.

Custard with your punctuation anybody?

* Thankfully there’s a shop just round the corner, so all was not lost. The picture? They are the ice cream cones we had in Paris, just thought I’d brag a bit!

Untitled post about the site title

Hmmm. So, WordPress, we’re definitely off to a shaky start.  You want a Site Title, but won’t let me enter one……..the gloves are hereby well and truly off.

One thing I have learnt about myself is that I hate giving in without a humdinger of a fight [do NOT get me going on my battle to renew my bus pass*]. So, I declare before the company of viewers heretofore assembled [did that sound assertive and official enough, do you think?] that I will, one fine day, give this site a title.

For the moment, though, I thought I would open this titling business up to suggestions…….go on, folk, do your worst. The winner will be rewarded by having a suitable poem written in their [dis]honour.

In the meantime, here’s a little ode to Ikea, just because.

Oh Swedish goddess of design

Let me enter thy portals, I am thine.

Thy strange green plastic shapes – I crave.

About thy flat-packed wares, I rave.

I bought a Kornik and a Borp,

A Kvestur and a Torrigtorp.

I packed them happily in the car

[but haven’t the faintest what they are].

Once home, I gloat with utmost bliss, but…

Ah. There’s something quite amiss.

Oh Swedish goddess of cruelty

You forgot to include an Allen key.