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

Quandary Resolutions by MissTeriWoman

  • #5921 submitted 06/27/2015: eviscerate, philander, mesmerize, preprandial

    To the Bar of The Jolly Boatman in Gullane where we can float below the rafters; for there, squeezed into their usual corner of the booth and enjoying a preprandial drink – well, they are on their third, if truth really must be told, are Maude and Phemie, together with Daphne and Phemie's chum, Izzy Dalkeith; the four – all now firm friends – are plotting their adventures for the weekend (perhaps even the week) ahead: weather permitting, they intend to spend tomorrow on one of the Golf Links for which Gullane is rightly famous among the cognoscenti of clubs and balls; on the next day – again weather permitting – it has been agreed that Phemie shall take them on her jolly little boat The Lady's Turn, or, more commonly, just Lady, to The Bass, as Phemie said, “there to have a picnic among the sea-birds and explore the Rock, once the home of a Scottish Hermit, St Baldred, of whom it has been said that he had the gift, well, the knack, you might say, of being able to mesmerise the gulls into laying their eggs right into the palm of his hand – which is a jolly nifty little trick and beats dangling down the cliff on a rope and trying to extract them from what the birds laughingly call nests – and scrambling eggs is a lot less messy than having to pluck and eviscerate a gull; and as a member of the first family whose ownership of the Rock is recorded for over 600 years, I still have certain privileges granted by it's present owners, who bought it from the Lauders just a tad over 300 years ago” – but, in truth, Historians though they both are, Maude and Daphne were intent on leaving matters historical aside for the duration of their Honeymoon and had determined that their intention was to have 'Fun, Fun, Fun' in whatever form such 'Fun' might take and as things now stood (or sat) it was clear that it would include Phemie and Izzy; so when the time came, the bell rang, and the philandering barman indicated his intention to clear the room and get everything washed and stowed away, for he, and his buxom, blonde barmaid clearly had other fish to fry, the four friends linked arms – as much for steadiness as camaraderie, and wound their way the short distance to Forth View, there with considerable care and effort, to quietly climb the stairs to the Honeymooners front room - “The Bride's Sweet” said Phemie, and kissed Maude on the lips, bringing a flush to her cheeks, “and The Groom's Treat,” enjoined Izzy, similarly joining her lips to Daphne's, who, extricating herself from the searching embrace and probing tongue, asked Maude to prepare the scene, then all four took their places round the green baize card-table, Daphne opened the box and, while Maude cracked and poured from a chilled bottle of Irn Bru which she generously topped up with Laphroaig Quarter Cask, Daphne dealt out the money for a game of Monopoly: The Edinburgh Edition, and in the twinkling of an eye all four were intent on the play before them and each was determined to win the prize – but who is to say Which Prize each of the four had in mind – not us, for we too have other fish to fry and so, slipping through a gap in the open window, let us cry 'Hi Ho Silver, Away'!

  • #5919 submitted 06/26/2015: eviscerate, not dog, waddy, tenderfoot

    As we drift southwards on our Magic Carpet, over the rooftops of Edinburgh, occasionally peeping in a window here, through a skylight there, noticing lonely people wrapped in their gloom, or lovers wrapped in each other, we pause briefly to consider our use of the Royal Plural (or 'we') to which we find ourselves rather pleasantly attached – it would be jolly to use it all the time, for it dispels any feeling of aloneness and gives us the sensation of being part of something greater than ourselves, but enough of this sentimental twaddle – and being paused, we catch a glimpse of a patient in the ICU Ward of the Royal Infirmary, his head swathed in bandages, seeming to sleep peacefully and, despite his battered and bruised aspect we recognise him as Angus Og of The Bog and as we watch a nurse comes to his bedside and touches his hand, briefly; his eyes open and he smiles – and so do we for Mr Og is clearly on the mend and we must hope for his recovery to be swift; but on we must fly, though just a short hop, to the little former mining village of Danderhall, where we immediately observe that Bunty and Dixie O'Hooligan and their dear cousin Bernie Westwater, are under cover at The Dog and Duck Club in Danderhall – this Friday Night Rave may have seemed incongruous, it's venue being The Danderhall Miners' Welfare Social Club, but it draws a colourful crowd who spend their money freely and the DJ (ex-Miner, vegetarian and presently munching on a not-dog, Jazz Brothers) is a regular of Forth FM with his eclectic dance mix of Garage, Techno, Skidd and Krash, with some mainstream Gumball-Pop for the older patrons; if he noticed three dancers, three girls who spurned any male interest, it was only for their dedication to the Beat; they had been on the floor for over an hour and show no signs of flagging; but, then, he didn't know who they were, nor the topic of the conversation they manage to maintain as they jump, skip, segue and writhe, to his constant supply of music – this is the perfect setting for a private discussion, linked as they are by the blue-tooth earpieces through which they can clearly hear each other and anyone who watches their lips move will think they are singing along to whatever record is playing; but they speak only of Martin Elginbrod and the latest moves they have made towards their intention to eviscerate him – ideally, literally, otherwise in ways which will destroy his reputation, his wealth and his position: according to Bernie, she will be seeing him tomorrow night, he had phoned her and almost begged her to meet him for dinner at a restaurant she could never have afforded to eat in herself – she will be wired; Dixie reported that she had agreed a price with The Economic Migrant who would set up traces on all of Elginbrod's telephones and monitor his internet traffic – “easy peasy,” was the 12-year-old's reply to the request, and he had asked if she wanted access to all his Chambers and Home CCTV, which she agreed would be useful; done deal; and Bunty has arranged for Elginbrod's two paramours to be exfiltrated from their 'love nests' that very night, by a pair of her waddies (both members of the Shottstown Quick-Draw Club in Penicuik who affect Stetsons, cowhide waistcoats and spotted neckerchiefs, which Bunty has advised them to leave off and to replace with black jumpsuits and to wear Balaclavas or even stockings over their heads, while Elginbrod wines and dines Bernie – she has a safe-house ready in the Cowgate, hard by the Grassmarket and Cowgate Community Policing Hub, which will be as good as anyone can get – and The Migrant is already monitoring all the Police Scotland communications networks in the city and giving her electronic updates through a secure system routed through The Cayman Islands and North Korea – she sometimes listened in to the banter among the officers based at the Hub and felt she knew them all so well already; she particularly found the intriguing WPC Isa Urquhart especially beguiling and wondered if she dared stage an accidental encounter, which might lead to........but setting that thought aside till later, let us command our Carpet to hie away for a very short flight to the Musselburgh flat where the two Brevitys – Gordon and Goldy – are both off-duty at the same time and lying abed, for they have an early start tomorrow, having heard that Angus Og is now conscious and both willing and able to meet them and, at this very moment they are discussing the nature of that interview, for what else would a married pair of Police Sergeants do when they are off duty and alone in their own bed, but discuss the case which currently fills all their waking thoughts – or are we being cheeky, too 'pass-remarkable' as residents of that faraway city in the West tend to describe those of us more fortunate than themselves – well, let us not intrude on their conversation, we are tenderfoots (tenderfeet?) in the business of detection and had best leave it to the professionals; no doubt The Economic Migrant has already had their home bugged and is doubtless listening to their pillow-talk in real-time (as a 12-year-old he is no doubt quite innocently ignorant of other activities which adults may engage in, in the privacy of their own bedroom) so Eastward, Carpet, and take us to the Honeymooners we last heard of in The Jolly Boatman, for we would know how they fare!

  • #5918 submitted 06/25/2015: splenetic, flense, futile, ubiety

    For the present, we must draw a veil, light as gossamer, across the first proper encounter of Theresa Somerville and her Dresden Shepherdess, whose name is Nikki Marianella, but we shall return to it; because it is time to wind the clock back and be transported as on a Magic Carpet through time and space to Friday past, and far to the East, pausing briefly at his Chambers, where through the window we can spy on Martin Elginbrod QC, seemingly in a splenetic or apoplectic rage – ripping pages to shreds and scattering them wildly, throwing pink-beribboned briefs (not Ladies, Legal ones) into corners; roaring like a banshee, knocking over piles of books and other papers, even kicking the poor Office Moggie, who yelps and tries to slink into a nook – and why is Elginbrod so ferocious – he is not searching, for this manner of search would be futile – perhaps he has received bad news, or an anonymous threat, maybe an attempt at extortion with a threat to rattle his ubiety, his perception of his own fixed place in time and space, even to flay him of his riches, his monetary insulation, just as a whaler flense his catch of it's blubber; now that would certainly account for his frenetic behaviour, in which there is no sense of order or calm; we wonder who might have upset him so – and wondering, ever so slightly, for we do have some knowledge of these matter, we pat our Magic Carpet and ask it to move on, perhaps to a hostelry on the Southern fringe of the City, between the City Boundary and the Bypass, where other acquaintances of ours might be meeting, with the subject of their tryst, that same Martin Elginbrod QC whom we have just seen in such a stooshie, as was the present writer when she realized her non-deliberate mistake and cursed the limitations of her Spell-Checker: no more juice for the Naughty Boy!

  • #5917 submitted 06/25/2015: splenetic, flense, futile, ubiety

    For the present, we must draw a veil, light as gossamer, across the first proper encounter of Theresa Somerville and her Dresden Shepherdess, whose name is Nikki Marianella, but we shall return to it; because it is time to wind the clock back and be transported as on a Magic Carpet through time and space to Friday past, and far to the East, pausing briefly at his Chambers, where through the window we can spy on Martin Elginbrod QC, seemingly in a splenetic or apoplectic rage – ripping pages to shreds and scattering them wildly, throwing pink-beribboned briefs (not Ladies, Legal ones) into corners; roaring like a banshee, knocking over piles of books and other papers, even kicking the poor Office Moggie, who yelps and tries to slink into a nook – and why is Elginbrod so ferocious – he is not searching, for this manner of search would be futile – perhaps he has received bad news, or an anonymous threat, maybe an attempt at extortion with a threat to rattle his ubiety, his perception of his own fixed place in time and space, even to flay him of his riches, his monetary insulation, just as a whaler fleuse his catch of it's blubber; now that would certainly account for his frenetic behaviour, in which there is no sense of order or calm; we wonder who might have upset him so – and wondering, ever so slightly, for we do have some knowledge of these matter, we pat our Magic Carpet and ask it to move on, perhaps to a hostelry on the Southern fringe of the City, between the City Boundary and the Bypass, where other acquaintances of ours might be meeting, with the subject of their tryst, that same Martin Elginbrod QC whom we have just seen in such a stooshie!

  • #5910 submitted 06/24/2015: enervate, dead tree edition, anastrophe, ennui

    Enervated by her dreams of the Dresden Shepherdess, though well aware of the futility of obsessing over someone there was little, if not no, likelihood of ever seeing again, Teri had sunk into a lethargic ennui; as there was no reliable broadband service to Rosie's cottage, and she had forgotten her Kindle, and on her mobile she could not read conveniently, Teri had searched Rosie's extensive library – shelf after shelf of dead-tree editions which, if she was truthful – which she pretty much always was, and still is – she much preferred, and began reading The Collected Letters of Seneca; she vaguely heard a distant knock, but was so engrossed in her reading that she had paid it no heed until Rosie's face appeared in the doorway, with a very silly-looking grin, at which Teri must have looked perplexed, and at her silent enquiry, Rosie said in the Yoda-like anastrophising they had been using all weekend: “a Dresden Shepherdess, it is – and you to see, she says, she is!”

  • #5907 submitted 06/23/2015: oppugn, unbeknownst, belated, otiose

    After a terribly restless night, in which she tossed and turned, burrowed beneath, then discarded, pillows and duvet, alternately shivered and sweated, with dreams in utter certainty of their reality, in which an unidentified woman, in short floral frock, cork-soled-wedge-shoes, with long bare legs and a delicate gold ankle-chain, strutted and gazed with such a come-hither frankness that she was quite smitten, Teri awoke belatedly, exhausted, drenched and feeling as though it were she and not Rosie who had been laid low with a fever – and now it was Rosie who tended to her, mopped her brow, checked her temperature, gave her sweet tea and nursed her back to some semblance of her normal self; fortunately they were completely otiose, there were no demands on their time, no challenges to oppugn their choice to rest awhile, recover their strength, before sallying forth; Teri did not have to be back in Edinburgh by any particular time, or even day, for she had arranged that The Famous Four were feeding and caring for her Aunt Maude’s cats, though, unbeknownst to her, they had, on a whim, abandoned the cats to one of the pretty waitresses from their favourite Italian Bistro, but even had she been aware of this change, Teri would not have fretted, for Celestine was not only very pretty, but quite reliable, much more so in fact than The Famous Four!

  • #5904 submitted 06/22/2015: precipitous, avocation, roustabout, clepe

    To clepe Teri, in her avocation of love, a precipitous roustabout is to miss the point - she is a dedicated follower of fun-sized female fashionista talent, always was, and always will be, so stick that in your pipe and smoke it!

  • #5903 submitted 06/22/2015: precipitous, avocation, roustabout, clepe

    Rosie and Teri had a lovely Sunday morning, they went to Stirling and saw the towering Castle rising high above the precipitous rock, and then to the antiques market near Doune, where Rosie's avocation saved roustabout Teri from yet another expensive mistake, for despite her enthusiasms, Rosie still cleped Teri a born sucker - and not only for bric-a-brac, for she spotted Teri following a woman who was wearing a sort of mini-Dresden- Shepherdess dress, Cork- soled shoes and a delicate chain round her bare ankle, and she would have bought everything the other touched but Rosie successfully intervened and they went back to the cottage via Aberfoyle and saw the Baillie Nicol Jarvie Inn - now exclusive apartments - and to Rosie's cottage for cocoa fortified with Scotland's National Drink, and Teri vowed to avoid posting to QQ with her phone 'cause it was mingin'!!!

  • #5902 submitted 06/22/2015: precipitous, avocation, roustabout, clepe

    Rosie and Teri had a lovely Sunday morning, they went to Stirling and saw the towering Castle rising high above the precipitous rock and thence to the antiques market near Doune, where Rosie's avocation saved the roustabout Teri from yet another expensive mistake for she is not an expert and Rosie noticed that she had spotted a woman in a kind of mini-Dresden-Shepherdess dress with Cork- soled shoes and a delicate chain round her bare ankle and followed her around and would have bought everything the other touched but Rosie successfully intervened and they went back to the cottage via Aberfoyle and saw the Baillie Nicol Jarvie Inn - now exclusive apartments - and to Rosie's cottage for cocoa fortified with Scotland's National Drink!

  • #5901 submitted 06/21/2015: fructuous, angst, ingenuous, swashbuckler

    Teri seethed with swashbuckling angst as her fructuous mobile phone selected ingenious instead of ingenuous to make nonsense of her carefully crafted sentence - Grrrrrowl!!!

  • #5900 submitted 06/21/2015: fructuous, angst, ingenuous, swashbuckler

    Rosie, her angst reduced and her good spirits rising, demonstrably more fructuous in her demeanour and her thoughts, asked Teri if they might go out as the weather had improved - she seemed as ingenious as a child, simple in her wants and needs, and when Teri suggested a drive to Falkirk to visit The Kelpies, Rosie's face lit up and she clapped her hands with joy - for neither of them had been to the magnificent, swashbuckling statues, great white horses heads, rearing over the Forth and Clyde Canal hard by the final lock, where it tumbles into the great, tidal, Eastern river and the sight of their power and strength gave the cousins much to wonder over as, in the afternoon, they took tea and toasted tea-cakes in a pretty little cafeteria in Bo'ness before driving back to Rosie's cottage for an evening snuggled before it's comforting fire.

  • #5899 submitted 06/20/2015: fructuous, demagogue, hobbit, cavil

    But she could cavil like a demagogue when her Hobbit fingers posted a fructuous entry twice to QQ!!!

  • #5898 submitted 06/20/2015: fructuous, demagogue, hobbit, cavil

    Teri felt like a Hobbit in the close shelter of Rosie's cottage in the folds of the Campsie Hills, but she could not cavil, for the safety brought a fructuous mind, quite free of the concerns of the world outside, of political demagogues and historic subterfuge as that of Sir Parlane MacFarlane, so she tended to Rosie and felt herself at peace in her new role as Nurse Teri - plots and blogs could wait a few days longer and the world would keep on turning.

  • #5897 submitted 06/20/2015: fructuous, demagogue, hobbit, cavil

    Teri felt like a Hobbit in the close shelter of Rosie's cottage in the folds of the Campsie Hills, but she could not cavil, for the safety brought a fructuous mind, quite free of the concerns of the world outside, of political demagogues and historic subterfuge as that of Sir Parlane MacFarlane, so she tended to Rosie and felt herself at peace in her new role as Nurse Teri - plots and blogs could wait a few days longer and the world would keep on turning.

  • #5896 submitted 06/19/2015: fructuous, salad dodger, parse, inviolable

    Teri tried to parse the nerdy salad dodging geek's instructions into a fructuous Englsh she could make some use of; here, in her cousin Rosie's inviolable cottage in the folds of the Campsie Hills, the bearer of Chicken Soup on an errand of Mercy, she had closed the door against the winds, the shutters against the rain, put logs on the fire and heated the soup on the Raeburn and while Rosie dozed and the storm raged without, after struggling and failing to get online, she had called The Economic Migrant at the house in Drumchapel he shared with his parents and five sisters and wrote down his instructions - she touched the screen and Bingo! she was online and could now post her entry for today on QQ!!! to get an Internet connection, Teri had, in desperation, called The Economic Migrant - a 12-year-old Syrian bot, surviving on pizza and chips in a cupboard under the stairs in the house in Drumchapel he shared with his parents and five sisters, and patiently wrote down his instructions; she touched the screen and Bingo - she was online and could now post her entry for today on QQ!

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