Eyjafjallajoekull

I have watched the last couple of days with a mixture of amazement and, it has to be said, amusement; amazement at the effect of a single volcanic eruption and amusement at the hubris of the commentators from the airline business whose assumed unchallenged right to the skies has been put firmly in its place.  I am also amused by the attempts of newsreaders to avoid having to say “Eyafjallajoekull” and the manic look in their eyes when they interview an Icelander with a similarly constructed name.

It was suggested to me by rapper sword-maker Frank Lee that the inability to say “Eyafjallajoekull” is a key sign of not being a Geordie and I think that there is a mighty truth and wisdom in that.   On the other hand, try as I might, I can’t find “Eyafjallajoekull” in Scott Dobson’s definitive “Larn Yersel’ Geordie” or it’s subsequent volumes so the conjecture remains doubtful. Mind, if it was Way-yafjallajoekull it would be authentically Geordie. Perhaps there were some early expeditions from Catchgate to what is now Reykjavík of which history knows nothing. Could this be why Icelanders invariably welcome strangers with “Way-yafjallajoekull, Bonnie Lad”?

Meanwhile, little bits of Iceland were on our car yesterday morning (and might have been today but it’s raining).

Another cracking Ashes to Ashes last Friday but a duff Dr. Who yesterday.  The remade V was OK but I wait to be convinced.  Stargate Unverse was good, I think, on its re-start.