SPAG Woes - brought / bought

This is a teeny, tiny SPAG Woe, but one that causes a little piece of me to die violently every time I hear it*. It's a simple matter of one flipping letter. What does one letter matter?, I hear a few of you mumble uncertainly. Precisely: what does one letter matter? So why settle for getting such a simple thing wrong?

As always, it's down to simple rules that, to get right, all you need to do is learn them and practise them (much like tying your shoelaces, riding a bike, or feeding yourself without getting custard in your eye). Here they are:

Bought

If you say "I bought a loaf of bread," you're telling someone that you purchased it. Money changed hands, and the loaf of bread now belongs to you to do with as you will, whether that's make toast, have a sandwich, feed the ducks or give it to someone as a gift.

Brought

That simple little 'r', inserted between the 'b' and the 'o' changes the meaning of the word completely, yet people so often say 'brought' when actually the word they were looking for was 'bought'. I don't so regularly see the mistake made the other way around, though, which is odd: most travesties of spelling, grammar and punctuation stem from people trying to give their poor little fingers a rest from typing so many nasty, effort-inducing characters.

But anyway:

If you say "I brought a loaf of bread," you're telling someone that you moved a loaf of bread from somewhere to somewhere else. The idea that you purchased it from a supermarket, a bakery or a bloke called Kevin in an alley doesn't get a mention.

The Difference

The difference is subtle, and the two meanings can overlap quite a lot. For example, it's quite likely that if you bought a loaf of bread you also brought it home. To get it right, you need to think about what you mean:

"I have brought you a present!" - I have been kind enough to find something that I thought you'd like as a gift, and bring it to you.
"I have bought you a present!" - I parted with some hard-earned cash in order to buy you something that I thought you'd like.

The Bottom Line

Use bought when you're talking about how you paid for something.
Use brought when you're talking about how you moved something.

* Actually, the truth of the matter is that every time I hear or see someone get this wrong, the Augmented Reality part of my brain supplies a brief but noticeable overlay of fiery burningness across my entire field of vision. Yes, it's disturbing, and yes, I should get it looked at.

SPAG Woes - there / their / they're

Time for more SPAG Woes! This time it's the dreaded "which there / their / they're do I use?" Just like most grammar issues, it's a matter of learning a handful of really simple rules, which I'll outline (with examples) below. Then all you need to do is get a grammar-Nazi friend to correct you every time you cock it up, and a combination of repetition, annoyance, frustration and bitterness (these last three directed at your friend) will help it to stick.

When do I use "there"?

When directions or places are involved:

"It's over there!"
"Get out of there!"
"There isn't any more soap!" (This one isn't quite so obvious with the 'place' thing)
"How do we get there?"
"What are you doing there?"
"There's that escaped chinchilla that was on the news."

When do I use "their"?

When possession or ownership is involved:

"That's their overripe watermelon."
"Is this their address?"
"This one is theirs, not ours."

When do I use "they're"?

I'm saving the easiest one for last: use "they're" only when "they are" would fit too*:

"They're coming!" ("They are coming!")
"You'll have to ask them when they're here." ("You'll have to ask them when they are here")
"They're big, sweaty, ignorant and have hairy hands." (They are big, sweaty, ignorant and have hairy hands.)

* There's that apostrophe [this thing --> ' ] again, standing in for missing letters.

Photo Post: What Woke Me Up

There was this noise. It brought me from sleep into that state between asleep and awake in which your brain does odd things in order to explain unusual sensory input. For a while my iPad was intermittently on fire. As reality seeped in, things gradually got saner: a scooter being revved on top of a local garage; a man mowing his lawn at 7am in such a way as to deliberately disturb my sleep.

Then, at about the time that Emma leapt out of bed and headed for the window, it hit me too. It was this:

My first thought was "wow!" My second was "shit, I don't know where my camera is!" My third thought was "yes you do, you silly bugger: it's by your bed." I did my best to verbalise these thoughts, but still being in the asleep-awake transitional phase it was gibberish by the time it came out. Emma, in the same state, obviously had trouble parsing the information, and her response was equally garbled.

The noise we heard, as if you hadn't already worked it out, was the sound of the red balloon's flame being fired. That's how close it was!

I'm quite proud of this shot, having captured the flame in action. I realise these shots are a bit grainy, and I realise that's because I'm using too high an ISO- I just didn't have time to change it, and I don't think I did badly considering the fact that my usual asleep-awake transitional period is best spent confined to duvet as it is, at the best of times, an experience that would make the music videos for Beatles songs look a bit normal.

There wasn't a lot of time before the balloons slipped behind the chimney pots. I would have liked a bit more time to focus and frame the shots (as well as change the flippin' ISO), but it really was a case of point, shoot, sort it out in the crop. Some post-production lightening was necessary, too.

There are a couple more pics from this set on flickr, but they're not all that.

Things To Do in Buckinghamshire: The Hell-Fire Caves

On our way home from dog-sitting we popped in to the charming surroundings of West Wycombe to find out what the less-than-charmingly-but-excitingly named Hell-Fire Caves were all about. I took some photos, as you'll see below. If you'd like to see the rest, they're on flickr.

If you're travelling by car there are plenty of car parks nearby, but I'd suggest that you do what we did- head straight for the caves, but carry on until you get to the very top of the hill. There's a car park up there that's very unlikely to be full (some of the others are very small), and the route back down to the caves takes you past the interesting sights of the Church of St Lawrence, with its striking and unusual golden ball...

The Church of St Lawrebce, West Wycombe

... and the Dashwood Mausoleum, backing on to the church's grounds. Both of these are relevant to the story of the Hell-Fire Caves and are easily missed if you park somewhere else.

The Dashwood Mausoleum, West Wycombe

Be warned, however, that the route down is quite steep and anyone who isn't particularly mobile will find it tough going.

Outside the caves is a courtyard with shaded tables and a cafe/ gift shop from which you can buy food (I had the very tasty Hell-Fire club sandwich; Emma had a cheese & tomato toasted sarnie. We agreed that it was better than anything we could have spent the same amount on at a service station), a small but pleasing selection of relevant gifts, and, of course, tickets to the caves.

The entrance to the Hell-Fire Caves, made scarier by the inclusion of picnic tables.

The caves were hewn from the rock beneath the church and mausoleum by a local workforce who were on the verge of joblessness following a couple of bad harvests. Sir Francis Dashwood employed the locals to carve a series of caves from the chalk rocks which were used as a meeting (and party) venue for the notorious Hell-Fire club made from members of the 18th Century aristocracy.

Can you see the ghost in this image? Actually, it's Emma blundering in front of
my long- exposure photograph.

As you wander through the 1/4 mile of caves and passages, there are regularly placed information boards. Many of these could do with being rewritten, and some repeat information given on previous boards, but they do a decent job of telling the story of the Hell-Fire Caves regardless. The passages are dimly lit: well enough so that you don't bump your head too often, but not so bright as to destroy the air of mystery and history that floats through them.

Regular information boards give an insight as to what went on down here.

As well as the information boards there are also eerie tableaux set up here and there...

Each one of these frozen scenes gave me the willies.

... and they wait until you get a little deeper in before telling you about the two ghosts that are said to wander the passages.

Is it a ghost? No. It's something much more terrifying.

The photograph above shows the eerie spectre that is Emma getting in the way of one of my shots again. She's standing in one of the entrances to the main hall, which is even now available to be booked for private parties. How cool is that?

The caves were dug by hand from the chalk rocks of the West Wycombe hills

It's cold, dark and damp inside the caves, and we were dripped on more than once. There's also an underground river (with a familiar and entirely relevant name). You'll want to make sure you're wearing appropriate footwear because it can be slippery!

These models were scary. I've said that before, haven't I?

It cost us £5 each to get in, and we considered that money well spent for the experience. We were in the caves for an hour or so, so you might want to find other things to do if you're travelling any distance to get there: There's West Wycombe Park and the village to explore, and probably a good number of countryside walks to go on.

If you want more info, it's here:

Things To Do in Oxfordshire: Didcot Railway Centre

In contrast to yesterday's Living Rainforest trip, we skipped over the border (from Berkshire into Oxfordshire) and back in time to visit the Didcot Railway Centre. Entering the centre from Didcot's actual current railway station, you walk through the subway, a sort of time tunnel, which brings you out into an era of rail travel dominated by steam engines. There are a few photographs included below, but you can see the whole lot at flickr. There are some good'uns, I promise.

This train, on 'running days', will lug you up and down the museum's length as many times as you like.

The Railway Centre is a museum, but not of the usual type: this one's a living, breathing museum of engineering masterpieces. By 'living' I don't mean there are people in period costumes wandering around pretending they're actually in the period you're learning about. Instead, this is an actual half-mile of railway with working locomotives hauling carriages up and down the track. The best bit is that riding in these carriages is included in your ticket price (which is about £8 for an adult).

See the countryside flash past in more comfort than you'd find on a more modern train.

Upon arriving we jumped onto the train, which seemed the obvious thing to do, and we're taken to the other end of the museum, which featured an old station whose purpose was to transfer goods from standard gauge trains to Didcot's broad gauge vehicles.

Didcot's railway comes from a time before track widths were standardised.

Wandering along the length of the track there are engine sheds, a shed in which old carriages are being repaired and restored, a turntable, a museum, shop, cafe, and other assorted attractions including an old air raid shelter and a railway carriage that has been converted into an educational centre primarily aimed at children, and focusing on the science of how steam engines work (this was made accessible by way of a series of interactive stations which really engaged me, and should therefore hold the appeal of many younglings).

Science! And trains! The science of trains! And I got an I. K. Brunel T-shirt. Awesome.

There are plenty of information boards dotted along the site, which is mostly open to the elements so bring a brolly if it's wet and sun cream if it's dry. You can walk or ride from station to station- it's not far, so not too hard on your feet, and you can ride the train as much as you like, so that's not hard on your wallet.

I include this not only for train fans, but also fans of a certain short-lived science fiction TV series.

At the end, we arrived back at the beginning (don't all the best stories?) and, as a quick plot-twist, jumped on the train again to experience one of the first class carriages up and down the track. It was a bit like what you might get if you put your grandparents' living room furniture in a booth on the Hogwarts Express.

You don't get upholstery like that in trains these days. Not even in first class.

Then we grabbed some dinner at the Prince of Wales pub across the road from the station (just in case you're worried about food- there wasn't a lot of choice at the Railway Centre's station cafe).

I snapped this mostly because this stone was laid exactly a year to the day
before I was hatched.
Coincidentally, it's also the same date that Alex Drake's parents were blown up.

If you want more info, here are some links: