Q: Hi AWC, where does the word “umbrella” come from? It seems rather fancy and unique for something that keeps you dry…

A: It’s a good point. And keeping you dry has nothing to do with the name.

Q: Oh really?

A: Really. It comes from the Latin “umbra” – which actually means “shade” or “shadow”. The original hand held sun shade was called an “umbella”.

Q: Wait. No “r”?

A: That’s right. 

Q: I take umbrage at this!

A: Haha, nicely done. And yes, the word “umbrage” – what Macquarie Dictionary defines as “offence given or taken; resentful displeasure” – also comes from the same place, “umbra”. “Umbrage” arrived in English in the 1400s via the French “ombrage” to mean “shadow or darkness”. 

Q: They were the Dark Ages I guess.

A: Actually, no. At its longest, the period of time known as the “Dark Ages” was a 900-year stretch from 500AD/CE to 1400AD/CE. So by the time the 15th century rolls around, we’ve hit the “Renaissance”. We’ll discuss it in full some other time.

Q: Okay, sure.

A: By the way, your phrase “to take umbrage at” didn’t come along until the 1670s, and it’s curious to see a 2010s phrase match its original meaning – “to give shade” to something.

Q: Oh yeah. That’s a full circle moment.

A: Well, speaking of full circles, the other time you may have seen the word “umbra” is during an eclipse.

Q: My mother said I wasn’t supposed to look directly at obscure words during an eclipse.

A: Haha. In this context, the “umbra” is like the darkest part of a shadow – its core. The moon’s umbra gives us total solar eclipses, while it’s the Earth’s umbra on the moon that gives partial and total lunar eclipses.

Q: Can we get back to why an “umbrella” has nothing so far to do with rain?

A: We can! So Late Latin reinstated the missing “r” and the Italians had something known as an “ombrello” – which people like the Pope and clergy used in the 1500s. It was super fancy. 

Q: So umbrellas were invented in Italy?

A: Oh, no. They were used in China thousands of years earlier! But here we’re looking at the origin of both the word and the popular use.

Q: Got it. Carry on.

A: Okay, so by the end of the 16th century, this practical fashion accessory was taking hold in sunny Italy – with many foreign writers noting its popularity. One such travel writer was Englishman Thomas Coryat, who first wrote of this “umbrella” in a 1611 travelogue.

Q: So a kind of 17th century Lonely Planet guide?

A: Yes, something like that. He noted that these so-called “umbrellas” were used to “administer shadow to one for shelter against the scorching heat of the sun”.

Q: So it was initially a sun shade?

A: That’s right. And another term came hot on its shady heels in the years that followed – “parasol”. It came from the Italian base “para” meaning “defence against” – to translate as protection from the sun. Again, all the elite and fashionable people of the 17th century had umbrellas or parasols. In Spanish, they became known as “sombrillas”.

Q: And yet, still no rain?

A: No. The word was in place but the material was not waterproof at this stage. This changed in France around the 1660s, when wax was applied to a standard parasol to create a “parapluie” – protection from the rain.

Q: At last!

A: Indeed. And things picked up in pace from there. In 1705, a clever Parisian merchant named Jean Marius came up with the design of the “broken umbrella” – allowing it to fold similar to today. These waterproof umbrellas had arrived in rainy England, initially worn as fashion items by women but eventually carried by men.

Q: An umbrevolution!

A: Exactly. The 18th century saw umbrellas burst open across the European continent – carried by the masses for the first time and seen in many paintings of the day. And the name has endured to this day.

Q: What about the term “brolly” – where is that from?

A: This slang for umbrella is only known across Commonwealth countries such as UK, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. It dates back to 1866.

Q: What of the more figurative “umbrella” terms?

A: To group things “under the one umbrella” – that was relatively recent, only in use since 1948.

Q: And what about putting things “under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh”?

A: That can be traced precisely back to 2007 and singer Rihanna.

Q: Cool. So, to recap, the Italians are responsible for the modern name, which despite translating as protection from the sun and starting its life as precisely that, is now primarily used against rain.

A: That’s it! Of course, “sun umbrellas” are still very much a thing – especially on the beach, but the rain has largely hijacked the original word.

Q: Well, I’m glad we finally tackled this one. I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.

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Q: Hi AWC, where does the word “smarmy” come from?

A: It is a rather onomatopoeic word, isn’t it? 

Q: Yes, I usually can’t help saying it in a smarmy way.

A: Well, let’s start with some definitions. Because “smarmy” is an adjective, but the lesser-used word “smarm” is where it all started. Macquarie Dictionary describes “smarm” as either a noun – flattery; unctuousness; fulsomeness – OR as a verb, essentially – to be servile or fawn ingratiatingly.

Q: So, to smarm is to suck up?

A: Yes. As well as being the act of sucking up. Much like the verb “smear” will result in, you guessed it, a smear.

Q: And something that is smeary.

A: Precisely! As we also see here, with the adjective “smarmy” – listed as colloquial for ingratiating, falsely charming, or flattering. The Americans in Merriam-Webster add “smug and self-satisfied” to that list, while also taking the definition a step further, with an extra meaning “of low sleazy taste or quality” – such as in smarmy eroticism.

Q: Oooh la la.

A: Yes, we’ll probably leave that one and stick to the smug variety for now.

Q: Good idea. So how old is the word? Surely monks in the 13th century weren’t getting their smarm on?

A: True, they were not. In fact, it seems to have first been recorded in 1847 – but only as the verb form, and not with a meaning that’s still in use today.

Q: Oh really? What was the meaning?

A: Remember how we compared “smarm” to “smear”?

Q: Well yes, it was only twenty-six seconds ago.

A: Okay good. Because back in 1847, to smarm was specifically to smear (make smooth or oily) your hair with wax – or “pomade” as hair product was traditionally known.

Q: Pomade? 

A: Yeah, it’s a word that’s still around in hairstyling circles. The word first arrived in English in 1598 and got its name from the French pommade ointment made from apples, which in term came from the Italian “pomo” for apple.

Q: Okay, so these Italian apples in a French ointment were smarmed on Victorian-era heads, yes?

A: That’s right! No one is quite sure how the word “smarm” came about, but it could have been a mash-up of smear and balm or balsam – a mixture that you might have applied to your hair.

Q: And yet this meaning is dead today?

A: That’s right. In fact, no literal smearing uses this word anymore. Instead, as we said earlier, it is now solely about figuratively “smearing with flattery” – a meaning which first appeared in dictionaries in 1902. 

Q: How did this come about?

A: It seems that it was coined by a Brighton resident named “B.R.L.” in an 1899 competition by a London publication asking for neologisms (new words). B.R.L. gave the word a brand new definition of “saying treacly things that do not sound genuine” and this, rather ironically, stuck.

Q: Ironically, because the other hair wax definition should have been the one to stick?

A: Exactly. Instead, it got out-smarmed by a newer, more flattering definition.

Q: So the verb was first. Then what?

A: The adjective “smarmy” followed in 1909 – curiously originally meaning “smooth and sleek”, no doubt still clinging to its haircare days. 

Q: “I say, Henry, me old chap, you’re looking mighty smarmy today!”

A: Yeah, that kind of thing. The noun version of “smearing with flattery” soon followed in 1914 and the adjective of that – the one that remains today – appears first in 1924.

Q: One hundred years of being smarmy! Who do we have to suck up to in order to have a centenary celebration?

A: Haha. Not sure, but it would be a very slippery ordeal.

Q: I’ll get the smarmy army onto it right away!

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Q: Hi AWC, is it “ParOlympics” or “ParaOlympics” or “Paralympics”?

A: That’s a very good question. There is no “O” here – no rings! It is “Paralympics” OR “The Paralympic Games”.

Q: Okay, good. So where does the name come from?

A: Where do YOU think the name came from?

Q: Well, my FIRST thought was “paraplegic” but I know that’s wrong.

A: Actually, the term DID start out as a portmanteau of “paraplegic” and “Olympics”.

Q: Seriously? But they’re not all paraplegic!

A: You’re right. Only a fraction of para athletes today would be paraplegic, but we’ll get to that. In the meantime, let’s have a history lesson.

Q: How far back are we going?

A: Back to the 1948 London Olympics, when a small group of spinal cord patients at Stoke Mandeville Hospital – all injured in World War II – participated in the 1948 “Stoke Mandeville Games for the Paralyzed”.

Q: Hmmm catchy.

A: Yeah, even the marketing boffins of the day decided to drop that end part for following editions, and by 1952 they were the “International Stoke Mandeville Games”. 

Q: So 1952 was the first official Paralympics?

A: Actually no, that wasn’t until the 9th edition of the International Stoke Mandeville Games – or ISMG – in 1960. They were held in Rome, the venue for that year’s Summer Olympics and it was the first time wheelchair athletes who weren’t injured in war could compete.

Q: So 1960 was the first official Paralympics?

A: Yes, they are now regarded as the first ones. However, history is often messy in the making, and they would continue to be called the ISMG and be held at Stoke Mandeville hospital every year except in Olympic years. It wasn’t until 1976 (also when the first WInter Paralympics were held), that non-wheelchair athletes competed for the first time. 

Q: So were they calling them “Paralympics” by then?

A: Only informally. Officially, they were still just the Olympic year editions of the ISMG.

Q: So when did the name officially stick?

A: The Seoul Summer Olympics in 1988 were the first to be officially branded “Paralympics” – after years of its informal use. They were also the first to take place directly following the Olympics, using similar infrastructure.

Q: And the ISMG? What happened to them?

A: Stoke Mandeville is widely considered the “Ancient Greece” equivalent of the modern Paralympic movement, and they continued to exist as an annual event mainly for wheelchair participants – rebranding in the late 1990s to the World Wheelchair Games and later the IWAS World Games. Currently they’re called the World AbilitySport Games.

Q: Phew. Okay, so despite the name starting out as an informal combo of “paraplegic” and “Olympics”, they stuck with it, despite wheelchairs no longer defining the games? That seems rather narrow considering the range of athletes that compete today, yes?

A: Well of COURSE it is. That’s why, in 1988, the movement had a dilemma to solve. The term “Paralympics” had taken hold over the previous two decades by this point. But as you point out, it wasn’t fully representative. 

Q: So how did they solve it?

A: It turns out it was solved all along.

Q: Huh?

A: Well, the word “paraplegia” came from the Greek base preposition translated as “pará” – meaning “beside; alongside”. In that word, it relates to one side of the body being stricken. So in looking for a less wheelchair-related origin story, the officials looked to “beside” as taking place alongside the existing Olympics.

Q: Very handy!

A: Indeed. By the way, this base is also where we get words such as “parallel” (beside another), “paragraph” (originally a mark ‘beside’ writing), and even “paralegal” – someone who works alongside a lawyer.

Q: Waaaait. So a paralegal is NOT a lawyer in a wheelchair?

A: They are not.

Q: Wow, okay. And what about a word like “parachute”? Is this from the same base?

A: Actually no – there is an unrelated second “para” base from Italian, which means “defence; protection against”. That’s where “parachute” (protect against a fall) comes from.

Q: And a parapet – defence from cats, dogs and goldfish?

A: Haha, close. Same base, yes, but the “pet” is “petto” – “breast” in Italian. It is a low wall that protects your torso from falling off.

Q: I think it could keep pets out too.

A: Okay sure.

Q: So, in 1988, the Greeks handed them a gift that allows them to keep the name “Paralympics” and have it NOW mean “pará” as in beside, or parallel to the Olympic Games. Yes?

A: That’s it. 

Q: And is it only “Paralympics” or is it also “Paralympic Games”? I know the original Olympics get finicky about things like this.

A: No, it seems either is fine. And since the Sydney 2000 Paralympics, the profile and coverage of these games has grown steadily, helping change attitudes and championing para athletes from around the world across a range of sports disciplines.

Q: Yeah it’s pretty cool. Although I imagine the parking situation must be a nightmare.

A: Haha, yes, a lot of dedicated parking spaces.

Q: And just checking – is it “Paralympian” OR “Paralympion”?

A: Just like an Olympian, it is “Paralympian”. The confusion probably comes from the word “champion” – sometimes seen in a similar context of course. 

Q: Got it!

A: Fun fact – Paris in 2024 will officially be the 17th Paralympic Games.

Q: And my uncle was going to represent Australia at wheelchair basketball this year, but was banned.

A: Oh no, why?

Q: His wheelchair tested positive for WD40! Bahahahaaaa.

A: Groooaan. 

Do you have a question you’d like us to explore? Email it to us today!

Q: Hi AWC, where does the phrase “filthy rich” come from?

A: It was coined by the world’s first pig pen tycoon.

Q: Really?

A: Nope.

Q: I hate you.

A: Okay, seriously though, the phrase we use is only a century old, but its back story goes way back.

Q: Origin story! Tell me more…

A: Well, we start in Greece with the phrase ‘aiskhron kerdos’ – which roughly translated as “filthy lucre” in English around 1400.

Q: Lucre?

A: Yes. “Lucre” is financial gain, money or profit. 

Q: A Greek profit! Bahahahaaa.

A: Well, “lucre” came from Old French, which in term came from the Latin ‘lucrum’ – meaning “material gain”. And to have “filthy lucre” was to have made those material gains under dodgy circumstances.

Q: Ill-gotten gains!

A: Precisely. This concept of unjust gain or “filthy lucre” pops up in the translated Bible of the 1500s a few times too – it seems that God wasn’t a fan of accumulating wealth through dishonourable circumstances. 

Q: Like the Ancient Egyptians?

A: Huh?

Q: Well they had all those pyramid schemes going on, right? Bahahaha.

A: Cute. 

Q: Okay. So, the word “lucrative” – that must be related, right?

A: It is. This adjective means “highly profitable” and turned up about a century after “lucre”, around the start of the 16th century. From here, the term “filthy lucre” set the tone for this kind of greedy dodgy money-grabbing activity. It’s still listed in dictionaries today.

Q: But we are still only describing the activity, not the person.

A: That is a very astute observation. And one can guess your next question.

Q: When did “filthy rich” arrive?

A: We first see it in modern print in a 1909 book named A Certain Rich Man by William Allen White. In this, while he did indeed use the phrase “filthy rich”, it was more literal – used to describe shameful entanglements by the rich with mistresses or other individuals. 

Q: So “filthy” in the “dirty old man” sense?

A: Haha, essentially, yes. Curiously, the figurative use of “dirty” had been around since “dirty tricks” of the 1670s. “Doing dirty work” followed in the 1760s, “dirty jokes” in 1856 and by the 1860s, we were airing each other’s “dirty linen” or laundry. But it wouldn’t be until 1923 that someone gave the first “dirty look” and 1932 before they gave that look to a “dirty old man”. 

Q: Fascinating!

A: And the Great Depression is in fact where our final chapter takes place. As the economy plunged in 1929, a small Ohio newspaper suggested that the rich might be taking advantage of a depressed market, as people needed money for food. Specifically, they reported: “If any of our stock-gambling filthy rich want a winter home, now is the time to acquire it.”

Q: Ironic because the ones who couldn’t afford bathtubs were likely the filthy ones.

A: True. At this time, to call someone “filthy rich” was still draped in a dishonourable tinge, such as it was that so much of the world was suffering at the time. However, over the decades, as the world became more prosperous in general, the term has morphed to be less of a moral story.

Q: And has it been popular the whole time?

A: It was fairly low key and niche actually until the 1980s, when a combination of a popular short-lived TV show by the same name and just the excesses of capitalism became commonplace. The phrase has seen an upturn since then.

Q: So today, to be “filthy rich” isn’t really about being filthy or dishonourable?

A: That’s right. Whereas before, it would be assumed that you gained your wealth through questionable means, today the “filthy” adjective is simply about quantity – in this case excessive amounts. The way it retains its relevance is that someone might be so “filthy rich” that it’s almost obscene!

Q: So, to recap. It started life as “filthy lucre” – dishonourable material gains. It was rebooted as “filthy rich” in the Great Depression, but today is no longer about HOW you got your cash, but HOW MUCH you have!

A: Exactly!

Do you have a question you’d like us to explore? Email it to us today!

Q: Hi AWC, knock knock.

A: Who’s there?

Q: No, it’s not a joke.

A: No, it’s not a joke, who?

Q: Stop it! I have something about “knock” to ask!

A: Ooooh, sorry about that. What is it?

Q: Why do we say “knock on wood” to hope for the best?

A: Good question. Merriam-Webster dictionary says it is “used interjectionally to ward off misfortune”.

Q: Oh, how funny – my mother was Miss Fortune 1979!

A: Oh, the same year Amii Stewart’s Knock on Wood came out.

Q: Well thanks for THAT ear worm.

A: You’re welcome. Anyway, Australia’s Macquarie Dictionary is a little wordier with its definition: “a saying appended to a statement about something good, in the hope of averting the bad luck that the positive nature of the statement may bring, that is, the opposite coming true.”

Q: Sounds about right.

A: Curiously, “knock on wood” is listed as being “Mainly American” in usage. In Britain and down here in Australia/NZ, many prefer to say “touch wood” for the same thing.

Q: Good point. Even so, wood is the common theme – so what’s so special about touching wood to stop bad things happening?

A: The most likely theory seems to date back to pagans like the Celts who believed that spirits lived in the trees. So, when you knocked on a tree it was seen as thanks to the gods for blessing them.

Q: It sounds like the plot to that Avatar movie with all the blue people…

A: Christians kept the wood theme going with the symbol of the wooden cross and the phrase itself is likely to have entered widespread English usage by the 18th century, but some form of “knocking three times for luck or to stave off evil” has found its way across many cultures throughout Europe and parts of South America, Egypt, Russia and India, to name just a few.

Q: Wow, quite the global traveller.

A: Want to hear more about “knock”?

Q: Yes please!

A: The word has been in use since at least the 12th century, from a family of Germanic/Saxon words that include knob, knot, knuckle and even gnarly. By the 1600s, to “knock up” was to bang on someone’s door – but with it also meaning “to copulate with” at that time.

Q: That makes sense – as to be “knocked up” nowadays means pregnant!

A: That’s right, although to “knock someone up” originally meant to punch them, yet to “knock something up” in Britain was also to make something quickly. The Online Etymology Dictionary only lists the “get pregnant” meaning from 1813. And in related news, by the 1860s, brothels were known as “knocking-shops”.

Q: Charming.

A: Boxing did get part of its meaning back, with “knockout” introduced to boxing in 1887. The exact definition being ‘to stun by a blow for a 10-count’. 

Q: Okay, we’ve knocked ON wood. What about all the ways to knock off?

A: Okay, well the oldest is to “knock off work” as in to stop, and that actually dates all the way back to the 1640s. In a similar vein, to tell someone to “knock it off” – i.e. to stop – came along in the 1880s. And finally, to “knock someone off”, like a hitman, is newer still – from 1919.

Q: What about when you go to Bali and buy a ‘knock-off’ handbag for $5 (haggled down from $6)? 

A: Remember “knock something up” being to make something hastily? Well, by 1817, to “knock off” also meant that. But it wouldn’t be until 1966 that the term “knock-offs” began being used for the finished product – and we’ve been getting bargains ever since.

Q: Absolutely. I love my “Lui Vaton” bag and “Gymmy Chew” shoes. 

A: Haha, yes they sound very authentic.

Q: Any other “knock” phrases?

A: Sure. To “knock down” something at an auction goes back to 1760. Being “knock kneed” – having knees bend in to touch each other when standing – became a description in 1774. And if you teased someone about it after 1893, you’d be “knocking them”. Finally, people started “knocking back” drinks in 1931 – right at the beginning of the Great Depression, so it makes sense.

Q: Ahem, what about, er…

A: What about what?

Q: Ummm, what about “knockers”?

A: Oh, okay. Knockers – as a large iron ring used as a “door banger” dates way back to the 1590s. But it wasn’t until 1941 that the word was first attested as slang for a woman’s breasts.

Q: Phew. I’m glad I got that off my chest.

A: Shall we do some more phrases?

Q: Sure, knock yourself out.

A: Ah – well that’s a good one right there. “Knock yourself out” since the 1930s has often been used in a negative, such as: “I know the deadline is tomorrow, but don’t knock yourself out getting it done” – akin to exhausting yourself. However, from the mid 20th century, it also came to informally mean, “go ahead – feel free”. Both are especially popular in North America.

Q: The School of Hard Knocks? Is it a real school?

A: No – it’s simply a metaphor for life’s hardships. It seems to have been first published in 1870 and was a favourite of newspaper journalists in the early 1900s.

Q: Back when schools actually gave you hard knocks…

A: True.

Q: I feel like there are still a lot more “knock” phrases.

A: Yep. We could be knocking all day.

Q: Okay, well let’s finish with a fun one: “You could have knocked me down with a feather!”

A: Haha, nice. Said to denote surprise, this idiom appears to have first appeared in 1796 in a book called Porcupine’s Works by William Cobbett. 

Q: Thanks! We really knocked it out of the park this week.

A: We did, and that one was originally literally to hit a home run in baseball, but has since came to mean any great achievement.

Q: Well, I have to go and pick up my new “Goochy” knock-off sunglasses. I hope they suit my face.

A: Knock on wood!

Do you have a question you’d like us to explore? Email it to us today!

Q: Hi AWC, I was watching the Olympics swimming recently, and I have a question for you.

A: Is it about the “freestyle” swimming stroke?

Q: No, but now I’m curious.

A: Well, as the name suggests, a swimmer can do ANY stroke in an individual freestyle event – they’re literally free to choose any style! The reason everyone chooses what is technically known as the “front crawl” (sometimes “Australian crawl”) is that it’s the fastest.

Q: Oh wow. So if someone came up with something faster, swimmers could use that?

A: Absolutely! Much like Dick Fosbury stunned the world by high jumping backwards (rather than a straddle) at the 1968 Olympics. The “Fosbury Flop” has been widely used ever since.

Q: I love Olympic fun facts!

A: They’re great. But what WAS your swimming question?

Q: I keep hearing people talk about “laps” and “lengths”. So is a lap one or two lengths?

A: Ahhhh, good question. So let’s start with “lengths” – because that one is not controversial. 

Q: Uh oh.

A: Yeah. A “length” in a lane-swimming pool is simply from one end of it to the other – first defined as such in 1903. But there is no universal “length” – an Olympic-sized swimming pool length is 50m, but it will be only 25 metres at many recreational public swimming pools.

Q: So if I do eight lengths at the Olympics, I have gone 400 metres?

A: That’s right. Eight lengths of 50m. And you better be under 4 minutes, or no medal for you.

Q: But eight lengths at my local 25m pool is only 200 metres?

A: Correct. It’s that simple – and that vague. “Eight lengths” is all dependent on where you swim – like climbing “eight floors” might be different depending on the number of the steps and a building’s floor height etc. 

Q: Yeah, I get that. A length is simply the measure of “one end of the pool to the other”.

A: Exactly.

Q: What about “laps” then?

A: This is where it gets trickier. You see, the idea of a “lap” first took hold on a track (for people, horses, cars etc). “A turn around a track” in a distance race was first defined as a “lap” in 1861. 

Q: Oh, that was the first year of the Melbourne Cup!

A: Sure, but it didn’t come from that. In fact, the only precise lap you’ll find there is Phar Lap.

Q: But a 400m running race is a lap, yeah?

A: That’s right – originally 440 yards, this is what most of the sporting world think of when you talk about “laps”. A mile is a little over four laps of the track, etc. 

Q: So, in a track race, to complete a “lap” means that you come back to where you started, yes?

A: That’s right. In car races it’s the same, and lap times are a big part of qualifying. A race will typically be defined by “completing a course” (one lap) a certain number of times. 

Q: Ah yes, like the Bathurst 1000 and Indianapolis 500!

A: Well yes, but hilariously, neither of those numbers is the lap count. Indianapolis laps are 2.5 miles each, so 200 laps gives it the namesake 500 miles. Meanwhile, Bathurst is 1000km – with each lap around 6.2km, so you end up completing exactly 161 laps.

Q: I suppose the Bathurst 161 didn’t sound as good.

A: Indeed. Even running races define themselves by distance – e.g. 10,000 metres rather than 25 laps.

Q: So if all of these laps require you to return to where you started, then surely a “lap” in the pool should be defined as TWO “lengths”, yes? Out and back again?

A: Some agree with you on that. However, the simple truth is that swimmers swim in straight lines, not in a circle. So “completing a course” for a swimmer is to go from one end to the other. The Olympics themselves claim that “a lap is one length of the pool”.

Q: Ugh, seriously? But maybe it’s because those pools are 50 metres, so an Olympic-defined “lap” in a 25-metre pool would be out and back, or two lengths? 

A: Again, some cling to this idea. But usually regardless of pool size, most competitive swimmers simply equate a length with a lap. Same thing.

Q: I have a headache.

A: Where people seem to go wrong is in equating “completing a course” to a racetrack. While Macquarie Dictionary defines a lap as “a single round or circuit of the course in racing”, it never mentions swimming. However, Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines a lap as “the act or an instance of traversing a course (such as a racing track or swimming pool)”. 

Q: Hmmm, traversing huh…

A: That’s right. Traversing a running track might be akin to returning to the same point, but in a swimming pool, traversing is crossing – reaching the other end. Certainly swimmers in the 50-metre Olympic freestyle event think so.

Q: So 50-metre swimmers swim one lap, not half a lap?

A: According to the Olympics and swimming logic, yes they do.

Q: Yet if I were to swim 50 metres at my local 25-metre pool, I’d complete two laps to do so?

A: Yes you would. Different venue, different lap count. Remember, just like a length, a lap is never a set number – it could be 25m, 50m, 400m, or 6.2km etc. It’s best to stick with the “traversing a course” definition. You’ll find more examples of “laps” in Formula 1 racing – Melbourne’s laps are around 5.2km long, Singapore’s 4.9km, Monaco’s 3.3km and so on.

Q: Okay, to sum up, a “lap” is about traversing a particular course, not necessarily arriving back at the same place. And in swimming, traversing means going from one end of the pool to the other.

A: That’s right. One length is one lap. Even sports watches that measure swimming will use this metric for simplicity, and you’ll program in the pool length. 

Q: It sounds like maybe the best thing to do is not mention laps in relation to swimming at all.

A: Good idea! Most of the official national swimming guides only ever refer to “lengths” or specific distances (100m, 400m etc) to avoid any confusion. And languages other than English have no issue, because they never had to deal with this pesky word “lap” in the first place. 

Q: Well, this went swimmingly. 

A: Quite the lengthy deep dive.

Q: Actually, speaking of swimming pools and the Olympics, next time I’d love to discuss the sport of Water Polo. 

A: What about it?

Q: Specifically, how do the horses hold their breath for so long?

A: …

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Q: Hi AWC, what’s the deal with the word “GOLD”?

A: Well, it’s pretty old. Can you guess where it comes from?

Q: I’m going to go with Latin.

A: Nice try, but nope – their word was “aurum”. And it’s the reason the chemical symbol for the element gold is “Au”.

Q: Okay, so where DID it come from then?

A: The noun for the shiny, soft metal was in use as early as the 12th century, likely from Old German “gold” and Dutch “goud”. They came from the root “ghel” meaning “to shine”. This same lineage gave us words like “glimmer”, “glitter”, “glow” and “gloss”.

Q: What about the adjective?

A: To describe something as “gold” – i.e. the colour itself – started in the 13th century, but the metal itself would not be described as gold in its appearance until the 1400s.

Q: Wait. What’s the difference between describing something as “gold” and “golden”?

A: That’s a great question. Writers and poets will wax lyrical, using each fairly interchangeably. But while “golden” started life in the 1300s to mean anything “made of gold”, by the 1400s it was used to describe “the colour of gold”.

Q: Like golden hair or golden flakes of breakfast cereal?

A: Yep. This leaves things actually made from gold – e.g. a gold medal, gold ring etc – using the adjective “gold”. There are of course exceptions however.

Q: Are gold medals made from actual gold then?

A: Another common question (especially from cash-strapped Olympic athletes!). The first “gold medal” to denote a first prize was given out in 1757 according to the Online Etymology Dictionary. Meanwhile, gold medals weren’t given out at the Olympics until the third modern games of 1904. And those first ones were in fact, solid gold.

Q: Pay day!

A: Yes, but since the Olympics of 1920, gold medals are required to be made from 92.5% silver – although they still must contain at least 6 grams of pure gold.

Q: It seems so many things use the term “gold” or “golden” these days.

A: It’s true. From the 1400s on, “golden” became synonymous with “excellent, precious, best, most valuable” giving us figurative terms like “golden age”. Then from the 1600s, “golden” came to be seen as “favourable or auspicious” – giving us terms like “golden law” or “golden ratio”.

Q: Oh, “auspicious” – like “au” for gold!

A: No, it’s not related.

Q: What about that TV show The Gilded Age? Is that also another way to say golden?

A: Yeah, around the late 1500s, the verb “gild” came to mean applying a thin layer of gold to something. This was originally described as “gilt” but became “gilded”.

Q: I guess the gilt just got too much to bear…

A: Hilarious. By the way, the TV show didn’t come up with that name. The “Gilded Age” was an era of American history roughly spanning 1870–1900. It was first coined in the novel The Gilded Age, co-authored by Mark Twain.

Q: Okay, what are some other gold terms?

A: “Gold rush” came along in 1859, just in time for the gold rushes of the late 19th century. Meanwhile, San Francisco Bay’s entrance channel was first given the name “Golden Gate” by American explorer John Fremont in 1846. He named it to complement the “Golden Horn” harbour entrance in Istanbul, Turkey. He saw it as “a golden gate to trade with the Orient”.

Q: What about goldfish though? They’re orange.

A: Well, back in early China, these small carp fish were a dull yellow, with mutations creating flecks of yellow/orange varieties that resembled gold. Further selective breeding has led to the dominant bold orange today.

Q: Do music albums still “go gold”?

A: They do – although sales numbers for qualifying are different depending on the country. The first description of a “gold record” happened in 1948 (on the one-millionth copy of Frankie Lane's That's My Desire), while the term “to go gold” in a musical sense didn’t surface until the late 1960s.

Q: I love that song, “I ain’t sayin’ she's a gold digger…” 

A: Well, we ain’t messin’ when we say that long before Kanye/Ye’s 2005 hit song, the term “gold digger” was first used in the early 1800s to describe someone actually digging up gold from the ground. The term for “a person who forms a relationship with another purely to extract money from them” wouldn’t appear in literature around 1915, and by the 1930s had spread globally.

Q: What about “sitting on a gold mine”?

A: The idea of a literal gold mine has been a thing for centuries, but the figurative term “gold mine” – to mean any source of great wealth – is from 1882. (A time when, amusingly, many people were probably sitting atop actual gold mines.)

Q: And having “a heart of gold”?

A: That one comes from Shakespeare’s play Henry V from 1599. You’ll also find “all that glitters (originally “glisters”) is not gold” from his 1597 play Merchant of Venice.

Q: And finally, “worth your weight in gold”?

A: This one is much older – actually starting life in Ancient Rome.

Q: I think about it often!

A: Good to know. We’ve previously discussed that the Romans paid soldiers using salt – a valuable commodity at the time. So the original saying was to be “worth one’s weight in salt” (much later becoming “worth one’s salt”). The more precious “gold” replaced “salt” when the phrase debuted in English around the 1200s.

Q: I’ve met plenty of great people who are figuratively worth their weight in gold. But is anyone literally worth their weight in gold?

A: Sure. Pure gold is currently worth about $116,000AUD per kilogram. So plenty of babies and children, although an adult might need at least six million dollars. 

Q: It’s always nice to feel valued…

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Q: Hi AWC, with the Olympics starting, we’re going to hear the word ‘podium’ a lot. But what’s the difference between a podium and a dais?

A: Good question, because while many think podiums are three-tiered by definition, that isn’t their definition at all. 

Q: So what is it?

A: Macquarie Dictionary defines a “podium” simply as “a small platform”. This might be used by a conductor of an orchestra, a public speaker or yes, for recipients of awards.

Q: So just a raised platform?

A: Yep. It was first used in English in the 1740s – architecturally to describe a raised area around an arena where the VIPs sat, or later for the continuous base around a building. It’s from the Latin “podium” and Greek “podion” before that – meaning foot. 

Q: Oh, like podiatry?

A: Exactly like that. It wasn’t actually until the 1940s that it got its most common meaning today as a raised structure at the front of a hall or stage.

Q: My uncle Thomas used to have the job of drilling podiums into the floor. For a while he was very worried that he was damaging the timber, but it turns out it was just a stage he was going through.

A: Groooan.

Q: So what about “dais” – how is that any different?

A: It’s certainly older – with “dais” arriving in English in the 1300s, as a “platform or raised floor at one end of a room or hall”. It came from Old French “dois” meaning high table, and Latin “discus” before that – where we also get the word “dish”. Curiously, according to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word “dais” died out around 1600, only to be revived by the Scottish in the 1800s.

Q: Och aye!

A: If you want to find the biggest difference, a dais is sometimes considered a platform for many people, while a podium is fewer or just one. But then you have contradictory examples where a single throne sits upon a dais. They are very similar, except you’re more likely to call a raised circular structure a dais, especially knowing its lineage.

Q: And winners of medals in the discus at the Olympics really should stand upon a dais, not a podium!

A: Haha, sure. You will probably hear both terms – “medal dais” and “medal podium” – during the Olympics… they’re fairly synonymous at this point. 

Q: Raised platforms, got it.

A: At this point, it’s probably a good idea to bring in a third word – “lectern”.

Q: Oh okay, what’s its deal?

A: Well typically, the lectern is the actual structure that a speaker might place notes on or which holds the microphone, pointer, water etc. It was traditionally the “reading desk in a church” – from the Latin word “lectrum”, meaning to read. 

Q: So what’s that got to do with our raised platforms? Wouldn’t a lectern sit atop a dais or podium?

A: Well yes, but it’s worth mentioning that lecterns are increasingly being called podiums, especially in North American English. 

Q: Ugh, I simply won’t stand for this!

A: Would you like a lectern?

Q: Hmmm. Okay, so let’s look at podiums in the Olympics. You mention they were part of ancient arenas, so I’m guessing they go waaay back.

A: Your guess is wrong.

Q: Of course it is.

A: A quick history lesson first. Basically, following the revival of the Modern Olympics in 1896, the whole medal ceremony was a hot mess. It wasn’t until 1928 that they had any kind of ceremony, with all the athletes receiving medals on the final day by marching up to a dignitary’s table and having the award bestowed upon them there. 

Q: Sounds clunky.

A: It was. And it was actually at the first ever Empire Games (later becoming the Commonwealth Games) of 1930 that any kind of “podium” was first used. In that case, the winner stood on a raised middle step, while 2nd and 3rd stood lower down on either side. All three had a balcony style rail to lean on and from here they waved to the crowd, but never actually received medals while up there.

Q: So they literally put their top athletes on a pedestal.

A: They did. By the way, the figurative use of “to put someone on a pedestal” – as in to regard them highly – dates back to 1859.

Q: When did the Olympics first use podiums?

A: Ah yes. Well, the IOC President Count Henri de Baillet-Latour had been at those 1930 Empire Games and he liked what he saw. The podium would go on to make its debut in the 1932 Winter Games at Lake Placid and later that same year at the Los Angeles Summer Olympics.

Q: Wow, so the three-tiered thing like we have today?

A: Yep. In fact, that same guy made the rule that the 2nd place getter would stand on the winner’s right and the 3rd place getter on the left. And that’s how it has stayed – in the 2-1-3 order as you look at it.

Q: Very cool. 

A: It was. And by the way, those Los Angeles games of 1932 were also the first to see the gold medalist have their national flag raised and anthem played at the podium presentation. 

Q: So to recap, it could be called a winners’ dais or podium, as both mean raised platform, but “podium” seems to have become tied with the Olympics.

A: That’s right. In fact, especially in America, the word is often used as a verb. So “to podium” – much like “to medal” – would mean coming in 1st, 2nd or 3rd. Needless to say that purists aren’t all that impressed at this rise in “podiuming” – with even the New York Times writing about it back in 2010. But as we know, English is a living breathing language and you can’t meddle with progress.

Q: Unless you do that meddling on a “meddle” podium! See what I did there?

A: That’s not winning any gold…

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Q: Hi AWC, a quick one this week. I just need you to tell me the difference between pigeons and doves. Let’s start with pigeons, shall we?

A: Well…. Um. So the name “pigeon” has been around since the 13th century.

Q: Uh huh. Yup, good.

A: Aaaand, it’s from the Old French “pijon” – meaning “young dove”. 

Q: Wait. What?

A: Young dove.

Q: Hang on. Are you telling me that pigeons and doves are the SAME?

A: Well, essentially yes. 

Q: No!

A: Yes. They’re all from the same big “Columbidae” family of birds. “Pigeon” is simply the name the French gave to them – from the Latin “pipio” for the peeping sound chicks made. Meanwhile, “dove” was named by Germans – for the bird’s diving action. But there’s no difference. 

Q: But, I always thought doves were smaller?

A: Here in Australia, some might label the smaller birds as ‘doves’, but the experts will tell you that those feral pigeons you see crapping on statues are actually also known as “rock doves”. 

Q: But “homing pigeons” – they MUST be different?

A: Not anatomically. Of course, sure, that particular usage has them labelled as pigeons – and other phrases like “carrier pigeon” (from the 1640s) followed suit. But they could have just as easily been called “carrier doves”. Same bird. Same innate homing ability. Simply different names, depending on where you live.

Q: So what about the white ones with the olive branch? They must surely be ONLY doves, right?

A: Again, sorry to break it to you, but the famous “white dove” is just a feral pigeon. 

Q: No!

A: Yes. The best way to think about it is that the name “dove” simply got itself a better PR team. 

Q: What about the two “turtle doves” from that Christmas song?

A: Once more, they’re universally known as “turtle doves” – but again, they’re a type of pigeon.

Q: By the way, are they named that because they look like they’re wearing a turtle-neck? Or maybe they have trouble coming out of their shell?

A: No, it’s unrelated. The word “turtle” in the name actually comes from the Latin “turtur” – from the sound the bird makes. Turrrrr turrrrr.

Q: Cool. Any other fun facts?

A: Sure! To be “pigeon-toed” – toes curling inward – was originally applied to horses in the late 1780s before switching to describe human toes about 15 years later. Meanwhile, the term “dovetail” has been used in carpentry since the 1500s for the wedge shape resembling, you guessed it, a dove’s tail.

Q: So it’s just whoever got there first with naming things after pigeons or doves?

A: Yeah. And like idioms, they tended to stick with one or the other. Another example is the term “pigeon-hole” – those things often used by teachers and other professions to keep mail etc in. It was named in the 1680s for the small compartments on a writing desk that did indeed resemble the holes that carrier pigeons flew in and out of. 

Q: Fascinating.

A: The verb followed in the 1870s. For example, “she pigeon-holed doves for only symbolising peace, when they were also happy to defecate on statues”.

Q: Very funny.

A: By the way, do you know the name of the structure that Macquarie Dictionary defines as “usually at a height above the ground, for domestic pigeons, containing recesses for nesting and holes for the birds to enter and leave”?

Q: A pigeon palace?

A: Nope, it’s called a “dovecote” – yet more evidence of the interchangeable nature of the names!

Q: Okay, okay. I get it. They’re the same bird. Sheesh. 

A: Any other questions?

Q: Actually, YES. My friend just had her second baby, and now people are telling her she has a “pigeon pair”. Why?

A: Because all they’ll do is poop everywhere and keep finding their way home?

Q: Haha. 

A: A “pigeon pair” refers to having “one of each” – a boy and a girl. But any Noah with an Ark could tell you that there are plenty of animals you could apply this phrase to other than pigeons, right?

Q: Exactly! Why not a panda pair? Or a pelican? Or even a pangolin?

A: A pangolin?

Q: Yes, those rare anteater things that start pandemics.

A: Ah yes, those. So, the reason they’re called “pigeon pairs” is because pigeons do something those animals don’t. 

Q: Carry olive branches and call themselves doves?

A: Well yes, that. But they ALSO typically lay two eggs at a time, normally hatching as a male and female. The phrase dates back to the late 1700s and was originally just for a set of twins that contained a boy and girl. 

Q: But my friend doesn’t have twins!

A: Yes, because these days it can also simply mean a family with two children – where one is a boy and the other is a girl. A “pigeon pair”. 

Q: So to recap, pigeons and doves are basically the same bird, and specific names of things like “turtle doves” or “pigeon pairs” are idiomatic.

A: Perfect! And now, it’s time to fly away…

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Q: Hi AWC, what’s the deal with “taught” and “taut”?

A: Two completely different words. Nothing to see here.

Q: Hi AWC. I saw America celebrating Independence Day last weekend and it got me wondering. Who exactly is – or was – “Uncle Sam”?

A: Do you mean it’s not one of your relatives? You always have a story about an uncle or aunt doing something.

Q: Nope, not one of mine. Although I do have an eccentric uncle named Swepson – he drives miniature trains on the first Sunday of each month.

A: How nice.

Q: So I’m guessing Uncle Sam was in charge of America at one point? Or something. Was he the president? 

A: There have been no US presidents named Sam or Samuel. Or any name beginning with S for that matter.

Q: Okay, so who is he?

A: “Uncle Sam” is indeed a symbol of the United States of America. And he surfaced in the 1810s during the American war with Britain.

Q: Wait! (Wait for it.) I thought the Revolutionary War was in the 1780s? The one Hamilton and all the hip-hop rappers and dancers fought in?

A: No, not that one. Hamilton had gone the way of Biggie and Tupac by the time this second conflict rolled around.

Q: Oh, so Napoleon then?

A: Not really. He was busy trying to invade Russia and inspiring an 1812 Overture to be written 70 years later. It is true that the French had been busy fighting the British for years prior and the US decided it would be a good time to declare war on them too. It was all a bit of a mess, and no one really was fully prepared for what was essentially a land grab of Canada and the Gulf regions.

Q: Yeah, but WHO was Sam?

A: One theory has it that he was a New York meat packer named Samuel Wilson, who supplied rations to soldiers during this war. Others claim it was already a term that had been in use by the army and that it came from an alternative abbreviation of the U.S. (Uncle Sam/United States), documented from as early as 1810.

Q: So they just created some pretend mascot?

A: Oh, it was all the rage back then! Britain had created their own, with “Brittania” ruling the waves from 1740, and a union-jack-wearing character named “John Bull” established around 1712 as an archetype Englishman. In reply, America had embraced “Columbia” as their female mascot (we spoke about it previously here), so this added a male character to the ranks.

Q: Ranks being the operative word!

A: Indeed, because Uncle Sam would become very well known for stirring up national pride. Future president Ulysses S Grant had the nickname “Uncle Sam” while at West Point Academy in the 1840s, due to his “U.S” initials, and the character would make appearances in cartoon form here and there. But he didn’t really get a proper look or true branding campaign until World War I in 1917. 

Q: The famous “WANTS YOU” poster?

A: Yes and no. The original was actually Britain’s moustached Lord Kitchener “WANTS YOU” from a 1914 poster. But then, when the US entered the war a few years later, they copied that idea. For the first time, Uncle Sam got the look he has kept till today – an old white man with a goatee, top hat (with stars), blue coat and red-and-white striped pants.

Q: And he’s pointing at the viewer?

A: That’s the one. “I WANT YOU FOR U.S. ARMY” it said in rather clunky grammar. Of course, the “U.S ARMY” in question was “Uncle Sam’s Army”.

Q: Any other fun facts about Uncle Sam?

A: September 13th is officially “Uncle Sam Day” in America – designated back in 1989 because it was that original meat packer Samuel Johnson’s birthday. So despite the convenient “U.S.” connection, it seems everyone likes a proper human origin story.

Q: And what a meaty story it was!

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