Pangrams in the sunshine

The first week of May has arrived. Glorious weather on Deeside continues, as does lockdown. In the world beyond, politicians pontificate; experts argue; people suffer and die; health professionals and carers treat and care. And everywhere the vocabulary of pandemic repeats itself daily – “self-isolation”, “new normal”, “PPE”, “stay home”, “peaks”, “flattening the curve” ,”testing and tracing”.

Here, morning coffee is taken in the garden; daily exercise follows; pre-prandial drinks are enjoyed outside in the late afternoon; Bob Ross and The Joy of Painting offers light relief with post-prandial coffee, and may be followed by a classic film before bed. The weather won’t last – wintry showers are promised for the weekend.

Meanwhile, that title. Pangrams? “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” is a well-known example of a pangram – i.e. a sentence using each letter of the alphabet at least once. This week, presumably in an effort to keep our brains sharp, the Times took the definition a little further by inviting readers to write a story (which they called a Pangram) containing 26 words in alphabetical order. Here are two examples from Wednesday’s edition

I decided to pass this idea in front of a couple of groups of creative writers – one local, the other on-line. Their incentive to get writing was publication on this blog, which is at least as prestigious an outcome as publication in the Times (in my view). The results have begun to come in today and so far we have:

From Natalie Austin:

Always believe, charlatans deceive
Everyday for greed
How? I just know
Let’s maybe now overhear
Prying questions
Relentless stamina
That useless virtue
With xeroxed youthful zeal

From Liz Marchant:

Anxious but calm, Diana elevated first gingerly holding in jitters. Kangaroo like, mindful, naked. Oh Pranayama! Quite rightly shattered through undertaking versatile, wickedly x-rated yoga….zzz.

From Alison Bruce:

A black cat drops effortlessly from green hanging ivy. Jaded killer, lithe, muscled, noiseless, old predator, quietly ravages squirrel’s territory. Ultimately, very wicked xenophobia yields zealot.

And from me, a pangram giving you a horrible insight into my mental state in the seventh week of lockdown:

“Arse”, bellowed Chris dropping eggs floorwards, giving his impish judgmental knowing lustful mistress (new open partnership) quality reasons simply to unleash very wanton x-rated yelled zingers

I will publish more when/if they come in – and yours, too, if you send them to me via the contact details on this blog.

“Hooray!” I hear you cry, as you head for the wine rack.

Stay well.