Quadrivial Quandary:  Logophiles, Rejoice!  Each day we give you four unusual words.  Can you fit them all in one illustrative sentence?
Quandary Resolution 7830
catchall, stance, impetus, papillote, n.

And then today, I'd just got off the train at Tweedbank and saw the Melrose bus waiting at the stance, engine revving and the driver looking at his watch, so fairly hurled myself aboard and ticket in hand, took a seat when my phone gave that irritating chirrup that tells everyone I've got an email – it was my little nephew, who's only six, who chose it and I haven't the heart to tell him how much I hate it – and it was another one from the schmuck who wrote to me yesterday about how to read The Adventures of Daphne and Maude but while yesterday's was signed R Goodchild, this time it was from Robin Goodchild, which still doesn't tell me very much, Robin being one of those unisex catchall names which I've always assumed parents choose so they don't have to have two just in case, but so many of my friends opt to know the baby's gender in advance that it probably doesn't arise so much now, though Robin Goodchild probably pre-dates that option, although the question made me wonder if my new best friend is younger than I had assumed (yes, Ass/U/Me, I know, but I still can't help myself): "thankyou, but I was thinking more about Genre: should I be reading The Adventures of Daphne and Maude as a Psychological Thriller, Murder Mystery or Historical Novel?" and perhaps it was the impetus of the bus and wanting to have finished with this before I got home that made me jab a reply: "Sci-Fi Police Procedural RomCom with a twist of Black Magic and Scottish Chivas Regal!" and without even bothering with Dear Robin, Dear Sir or Madam, or preferably To Whom It May Concern, wheeched it on it's way to who the fuck knows where, when my attention was suddenly drawn to a little triangular papilotte, tucked into the frame of the seat-back in front of me; I pulled it out, carefully, not wanting to tear it – you've probably guessed that I've been picking up stones and driftwood on beaches since I first went to the sea-side, collecting bus and train tickets since I first was given my own one to hold on a draughty journey to Edinburgh for the Lyceum Pantomime when I was about 5 and have kept them all in an old suitcase along with other things too embarrassing to mention here, such as those photo-booth strips when five or six or seven squeeze in and pull faces, or those wristbands you get when you are having a minor (or even major) operation at the Borders General, all the postcards your jammy friends send from the Aleutian Islands or Kathmandu and you know they won't have kept yours from Auchterarder, Auchtermuchty or Auchinshoogle; but when I turned it over, imagine how spooked I was when I saw, in neat printing: Robin Goodchild 07429124536!

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