Thanks to Robert Charles Lee for his answer.
The one grammatical difference I’ve noticed is that British English allows do next to auxiliary verbs as a pro-verb; Australian English does not. So Did you ever see the Pope? can be answered I haven’t done in British, but only I haven’t in Australian.
Federation Square. Opened at the centenary of Australian Federation, in 2001. Strange, po-mo, mixed-use space in the very navel of the world, as far as any Melburnian is concerned: the four corners of the intersection of Swanston and Flinders St—
As Melbourne a navel of the earth as you can get:
Fed Square is a locale with eateries, uneven walkways, open spaces, museums, and a performance area.
And very very big screens, which help make it a default destination for people during major sporting events. Particularly World Cup soccer, but as depicted below, more genteel watching of tennis, too.
When it was built, I was a young lecturer, and Fed Square had opened up. It’s where my students would disappear to at lunchtime. I sneered, like many a Melburnian sneered, at its po-mo unevenness and ramps, and its Meccano buildings. I’m not convinced to this day that people love the architecture. But they do love hanging out around it.
Before there was Fed Square, those were dark days, when Swanston St was open to traffic, and there was a Hook turn for motorists onto Flinders St—a manoeuvre commemorated in the TISM song Get thee in my behind, Satan:
In those dark days, the site of this Square was occupied by the utterly unlamented Princes Gate Towers, headquarters of the Gas & Fuel Corporation of Victoria.
The site is at the navel of Melbourne, flanked by the gothic loveliness of the Cathedral, the rotund majesty of Flinders St Station, and the shabby comeliness of Young & Jacksons. And what did Melbourne put there in 1967?
Well, what was in fashion architecturally in 1967?
The monolith of 2001: A Space Odyssey was filmed in ’68. Coincidence? I think not!
Wikipedia, what say you?
The towers were appreciated by some as modernist architectural icons.
Yeah. Screw those guys.
However, many Melbourne residents regarded the towers as eyesores and criticised their size and placement.
Ya think?
The towers were considered to have cut the city off from the river and also detracted from Saint Paul’s Cathedral and the heritage facades along Flinders Street. The towers were much larger than any of the surrounding buildings and were said to have dominated the surrounding context.
Were said?!
What part of
do you not understand, Wikipedia?!
An Australian Women’s Weekly article from 1969 expresses the general public sentiment towards the towers at the time:
“Once the Graceful spires of St. Paul’s Cathedral dominated the southern entry to Melbourne. In 1967, the ultra modern twin towers of the Princes Gate complex raised their lean, unornamented 17 storeys to rob strollers on the banks of the Yarra of their traditional view.”
Well, suffice it to say that when the Gas & Fuel Corp was privatised in 1996, those twin towers did not look ultra-modern or lean. They looked like bulldozer bait. And that’s what they were.
modernist architectural icons
F*ck you too.
Neel Lex Lumi’s answer names Tok Pisin and Haitian Creole. Add:
Papiamento: “is the most-widely spoken language on the Caribbean ABC islands, having official status in Aruba and Curaçao. The language is also recognized on Bonaire by the Dutch government.”
Maltese language: may or may not be a creole.
Afrikaans: may or may not be a creole.
Bislama: one of the official languages of Vanuatu.
Seychellois Creole: It shares official language status with English and French (in contrast to Mauritian and Réunion Creole, which lack official status in Mauritius and Réunion).
Kituba language: “It is a creole language based on Kikongo, a family of closely related Bantu languages. It is an official language in Republic of the Congo and Democratic Republic of the Congo. It is not entirely accurate to call Kituba a creole language as it lacks the distinction between superstrate and substrate influence that is typical of creole development.”
Sango language: “Some linguists, following William J. Samarin, classify it as a Ngbandi-based creole; however, others (like Marcel Diki-Kidiri, Charles H. Morrill) reject that classification and say that changes in Sango structures (both internally and externally) can be explained quite well without a creolization process. … Today, Sango is both a national and official language of the Central African Republic.”
Depends on your criteria.
Biggest & Up to date is not English, but the now online DGE Diccionario Griego-Español . Only goes up to epsilon though, and I don’t see it finishing for another century.
Biggest in English remains Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon — though the online editions don’t include the 1996 Supplement.
The Cambridge Greek Lexicon is coming out next year; it’s not meant to be as big as LSJ, but it has been redone from scratch, rather than copypasting previous lexica (a tradition LSJ itself is part of).
The Brill Dictionary of Ancient Greek came out last year, as a translation of Montanari’s Italian dictionary. I haven’t gone through it; from the headword count, it sounds close to LSJ (more than the original edition, less than original + supplement), and I know that Montanari maintained PAWAG-Poorly attested words in ancient greek, with 1000 words not in LSJ (well, a substantial subset of them, anyway).
It won’t be as comprehensive as DGE, which quite confidently does Proper Names and Early Byzantine texts, an area previous dictionaries have shied away from. But then again, DGE is up to epsilon.
Ex bibl. = Ex bibliotheca. The whole thing is abbreviated:
From the theological library of the Free Church of Aberdeen.
Edit: thinko, I said ex bibliis, but I was getting confused with ex libris, from the books of, which refers to a person’s library.
Muhammad Irfan Perdana and Imre Kovacs are quite right that the art of dictionary-writing is (practical) lexicography.
If you are interested in reflections on past dictionaries, rather than how to write a new one, that is still lexicography. See the references in English lexicology and lexicography – Wikipedia: most of them fall under that category; and in fact any work on how to write a dictionary (practical lexicography) is going to reflect on how dictionaries have been written in the past.
My guess: no.
If anyone would have written articles in an Esperanto psychological journal, that would have been the late Claude Piron, who lectured in psychology, and who also wrote a psychoanalysis of people’s attitude to international languages. (No, I’m not endorsing that kind of thing.)
I’ve looked through his now defunct fan page at Pironejo , Claude Piron: Bibliografio . Not seeing any evidence he published in anything such.
I’m not sure there have been academic journals in Esperanto about anything other than Esperanto (including Esperantologio and Planlingvistiko, which were pretty good).
Cum X (accusative) Y (nominative) esse dicis, quid in mente habes?
EDIT: Sorry, Peter Hansen:
Cum X (accusative) Y (accusative) esse dicis, quid in mente habes?
To elaborate on Joe Devney’s answer to How do you refer to your left foot with languages that only use cardinal directions?
Yes, your South foot, if you’re facing west, and your North foot, if you’re facing east. Just as geographically oriented languages will refer to it as your seaward foot if you’re by the beach, and as your landward foot if you turn around.
That’s the thing about languages with no relative direction. They really have No. Relative. Direction.
Which means, you might ponder, that they don’t refer to their left foot the same way all the time; how they name it depends on which way they’re facing. Yes it does. They know it’s the same foot, they just shrug off the fact that the name for it changes. Just as you shrug off the fact that your left is the opposite of my left.
Thanks to Eutychius Kaimakkamis and Alberto Yagos.
Alberto, you have Andriotis’ etymological dictionary? Awesome!
The Cypriot dictionary I opened up at random confirms caracol/caracollo as the origin of karaolos, and they confirm your etymology as “twisted”. It did not say that the etymology of caracol in turn was ultimately Greek kokhlias via Vulgar Latin *cochlear, which makes karaolos a round-about Rückwanderer: caracol – Wiktionary
And who knew that the Romance words for spoon have the same derivation.
What’s this about patrolling, though? A caracole is a snail-shaped (i.e. spiral) military manoeuvre or move in dressage. Is it as generic as “patrol”?