Quadrivial Quandary:  Logophiles, Rejoice!  Each day we give you four unusual words.  Can you fit them all in one illustrative sentence?

Attempts to resolve the Quandary:


Not one to beat about the bush, galumphing through hackneyed expreassions and heaving ponderous verbiage at a thought, I rather use a trope, perhaps referring to an eponymous novel using the eponym as expressive antonomasia, such as "We were all recalcitrant Tom Sawyers or comely Becky Thatchers in our vibrant youth."

(by Thomas S)


The door opened and into the Dining Room came Tabby and Tavish, accompanied by Corky – they had all came down on the same early train and then by cab to the Hotel; Tabby looked gaunt and anxious and when Venetia rose and wrapped her arms round her, it was clear that the shared burden of recent events had drawn them even closer together than before; the pretty waitress quickly, with the assistance of some of Tavish's manly brute strength, pulled another table alongside that at which Daphne and Maude sat and in a twinkling it was one large table for six; she efficiently obtained their breakfast orders and sashayed along to the kitchen – which was when a voice floated up through the bay window from the High Street below - it was the voice of a man, apparently relating a story to a friend, though neither the speaker, nor the putative listener was visible - but something about the voice, it's galumphing tone, it's limpid mannerisms, called attention to it and the attention of all six of the people sitting round the corner table was focussed intently on the voice: “ 'Oi,' sez 'e, an' ow the 'ell wiz moi spose' ter'ken if 'e wiz adduressin moi be moi moniker, like if 'e thot 'Oi' wizza kinder antonomasia spercificarly applaid ter moi, or wizzit jerst a morpheme, like the littlerst bit e' coo'd use ter 'tract moi tension, 'n 'e sez yer cain't 'ardly splittem in twa, t'wid be a dichotomy ter sep'rate thon pair,  Tabby'n'Tavish, abbut theyse foin spois anner's nane spoi liken auld spoi, 'n them's greybeard's the pair onnum, 'n Mon, armn't moi tellin yer, wen 'e shode up wi thon twa lassies in'is boot, spectin oi tae commod'ettem, wit-ta donnybrook 'twiz, atween 'is boyes 'n moi boyes, fists a'fleein 'n teeths spat oot, 'n blud spoilt all ower th' staireheid, till 'e greed tae me proice, 'n a monkey each fer moi lads, oov gorra see the quacks atter GBH for broke arums 'n legs 'n teeths traimpled inner muddy yaird, an' tha's me bus, Laddie, so tarrarranoo,” and Tabby and Tavish suddenly heaved into action, knocking over tables and chairs as they dived, he for the window, she through the door, and Daphne, Maude and Venetia sat, stunned, as did the other diners in the room, until the pretty waitress broke the tension by calling out: ”would anyone like a fill-up, coffee or tea?” and something akin to normal service was resumed; which was when Maude's mobile phone trilled and she was delighted to see it was a call from Teri: “Auntie Maude, darling,” croaked Teri, “I hope I'm not disturbing you,” which Maude assured Teri she was not, but expressed some concern, for Teri sounded far from her usual chirpy self, “oh, I'll be all right, sweetie, I'm just having to cope with new medication – it's helping with the pain, but disturbing my rhythms,” which rather worried Maude, for she knew that Teri's rhythms were important to her; and so Teri explained that she had closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, just a bare moment later, the clocks had all jumped forward eight hours, it was very upsetting as she had missed her deadline, with her copy all proofed and ready to go just moments before she rested her eyes, “I feel as if I'm standing on the platform and the last train has just left the station!” and Maude tried to take some of Teri's distress away – for she really sounded quite upset: “can you ask that nice Miss Khayyam, on the editorial board? Roma? she perhaps could back-date your copy,” so Teri explained that Miss Khayyam was a martinet when it came to deadlines – or 'Dreadlines' as her Persian accent made it sound, “she has a little card on her door with a verse from one of her ancestors, Maude – I believe he founded the Caravan and Camping Club of Persia, and he's still called 'The Tentmaker' to this day (that's his autonomasia) and it illustrates the importance of being on time and she drums it into every contributor's head on 'Day Uno' as she calls it - 'the moving finger writes and, having writ, moves on, nor all thy piety nor wit, shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all thy tears wash out a word of it,' she's quite a stickler and unimpressed by bribes or blandishments, and treats all her contributors equitably, so to us she is justly known as Justine, for her air of true Justice, though I know not if she is aware of that little term used only by her devoutly doting contributors” and Maude said - “my only suggestion, Teri, speaking as one for whom the bell has tolled many a time, is just one word, and I think you'll understand: Portmanteau,” and she could hear Teri clap her hands and thought to herself, she must have me on loudspeaker, I do hope none of her paramours are listening to this,” and Teri thanked Maude profusely and expressed the hope that she and Daphne were enjoying their time in The Borders; “never a dull moment,” replied Maude, somewhat enigmatically, and they ended their conversation on a mysterious note!

(by MissTeriWoman)
The Quandary for Saturday, September 26, 2015 consisted of: Challenge: use all four words together in one illustrative sentence.

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