When writers block hits, I resort to meandering.

I meander through some articles written by my medium friends.

barry robinson
The Pub
2 min readJul 1, 2023

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A picture of a man thinking. Photo by Jake Young on Unsplash

For some unknown reason this idea for an article came into my head.

Silly things people say.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

This is usually said when the abode in question is far from humble. It is often a well- built 4/5-bedroom house with all the comforts civilization can offer; central heating, indoor plumbing, and double glazing.

I can only assume the owners of these abodes are fishing for compliments from their guests.

“Don’t ask.”

This is the response given when someone has asked a question.

How can you un-ask a question?

And the really annoying thing is the person being questioned will go on endlessly about the thing they didn’t want to be asked about. Why not just shut up.

“Hell holds no fury like a woman scorned.”

It’s wrong. It should be.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

People will say I am being pedantic. Well, perhaps I am. I could go further and tell you what it should be.

Heav’n has no rage, like love to hatred turn’d, nor Hell a fury, like a woman scorn’d. (From “The mourning Bride.” By William Congreve.)

But that would be showing off.

“The Pen is mightier than the Sword.”

Not if you are in a sword fight.

If you are ever challenged to a duel and your opponent picks a sword as his weapon of choice. I strongly advise you not to select a pen as your weapon. I think a gun would be better.

“If you remember the sixties, you weren’t there.”

Can anyone explain that? I remember the sixties. So where was I?

Finally, some-thing on the subject of nothing.

Nothing rhymes with orange.

No, it doesn’t.

Thank you and goodnight.

I would like to thank Karen Schwartz, Mike Hickman and R C Hammond for the giving me the idea for this article.

More articles written by me.

How Yiddish adds to our vocabulary

How can you inspire inspiration?

Is Veganism falling out of flavour?

How the Italians caught me at a young age

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