Liff and junk

Question: Where would you find half an extension cord, two faded dog collars, 4 antique Good Knight machines, a Scrabble board with no tiles, a set of marbles and a 1999 calendar?
Answer: in a box that you are finally unpacking after having moved back to Bangalore last month.

Ever notice how moving house makes most of our possessions seem like junk? Junk that gets packed in the hurry to get packed but has its revenge on you when the unpacking begins. There is the nostalgia stuff, of course, and there is a bit of the ‘aHA, that’s where it’s been’ stuff. But there is a much more daunting, endless list of ‘don’t know what to do with’ stuff. Having waded through the last of my boxes last weekend, here’s the tally:

The ‘aHA, that’s where it’s been’ stuff : 3 items

• The income tax form from last year
• The never-used patchwork cushion covers
• The leather jacket

The nostalgia stuff : 1 item

• The photographs from the trip to Manali

The ‘nostalgia but don’t know what to do with’ stuff : 12 items

• A menu from some restaurant in Paris
• Bangles from my sister’s wedding
• Gypsy’s first ball, chewed beyond recognition
• … you get the drift

The just plain ‘don’t know what to do with’ stuff : 55 items

• 2 burnt-out multi-plugs
• the modem from the old computer
• audiotapes of music I now have on CD
• unusable gifts from important people
• 3 unidentifiable objects which on close examination turn out to be : 1) a doorknob; 2) an oddly shaped lampshade; 3) half a rawhide bone
• 3 other unidentifiable objects which remain unidentified
  … and so on.

But one of those boxes this time has yielded a treasure that balances out all unpacking woes. Deep in the pockets of a jacket not worn for 5 years, lying inside a box not opened for 3, was my long-missing, believed stolen copy of ‘The Meaning of Liff’.

''The Meaning of Liff'' is possibly one of Douglas Adam’s best books, though I’m often surprised at how little it’s known. It’s a tiny book, not easy to buy at a store these days, a second hand copy of which costs a small fortune at Amazon. Co-authored by John Lloyd, it is a tongue-in-cheek "dictionary of things that there aren't any words for yet". All the words listed are names of places, and describe common feelings and objects for which there is no current English word. For example:

ABILENE (adj.) Descriptive of the pleasing coolness on the reverse side of the pillow.

BODMIN (n.) The irrational and inevitable discrepancy between the amount pooled and the amount needed when a large group of people try to pay a bill together after a meal.

DRAFFAN (n.) An infuriating person who always manages to look much more dashing than anyone else by turning up unshaven and hungover at a formal party.

DUNBOYNE (n.) The moment of realisation that the train you have just patiently watched pulling out of the station was the one you were meant to be on.

And, particularly relevant to me, I suppose
DOGDYKE (vb.) Of dog-owners, to adopt the absurd pretence that the animal shitting in the gutter is nothing to do with them.

I love this book. I’ve never known anyone to not have been reduced to helpless giggles page after page. I’ve made many friends over this book … jointly rolling on the floor screaming with laughter does much to break the ice and dissolve boundaries. For many years, it was my most effective ‘upper’ when I was low.

This week’s for rediscovering (and celebrating!) the Meaning of Liff.

For those who have not yet encountered this delightful book, here’s a link to the online version.