This article in the Guardian, Who still wants to learn languages?, raises a few key points from recent studies, as well as interesting observations. In summary:

• Funding for languages has been cut and departments are closing across the education spectrum, from schools to universities.
• Since language learning was made optional after the age of 14 in 2004,  numbers have been dropping. (Just in state schools? The article’s not clear.)
• There’s a sharp distinction between provision at state schools and at independents (“38 per cent of 14-year-olds in the state sector were studying one modern language and 1.9 per cent were studying two; 99 per cent of 14-year-olds at independents studied at least one language”).
• As a result, “the experience of other cultures is now confined to an elite”.
• Languages are losing out in the (short-term) education market because they are a long-term choice in terms of competency and gratification.
• German is losing out the most because of its profile, difficulty and competition from non-traditional languages.
• “There is only one UK citizen working in continental Europe for every four EU citizens working in the UK.
• “Studies prove [that] learning a language makes [children] better at learning everything else.”

Learn a language to know your own

However, the end of the article includes two of the more interesting points. Firstly:

“Whoever is not acquainted with languages knows nothing of his own (Goethe).”

I was in school at a time when the state education system decided we didn’t need to learn English grammar. We studied English language, yes, but I remember mostly creative writing rather than covering verbs, nouns, modifiers, the subjunctive and so on.

However, because I also chose to study German and French, I learnt a little about those things. And it’s only now that I’ve taught myself Spanish and help my local friends with their English that I’m learning more about my own language.

(Because I grew up in Wales, it was also compulsory to learn Welsh between the ages of about 6 and 13. I would have chosen Welsh at GCSE too, but the selection process made that a difficult choice.)

Speak a language, understand a people

It’s the comment from a source at the end that resonates with me now; of course, it may well not have done when I was 15. And that’s why it’s so important for the choice not to be left to 15-year-olds (and younger).

“[This trend] is disastrous [because] it leads to people leading insular lives – intellectually, professionally, culturally.”

I’ve learnt so much about the culture I’m living in simply by hearing how they refer to ideas in their own language, and thereby understanding the emphasis of those things in their lives.

It’s ideal for keeping track of all those handy articles I find and read (or intend to read…), as well as sharing them via my websites. However, it was only at the weekend when I had a bit of a fiddle around with it that I discovered some handy features.

From many to one

Previously, I had a Delicious account for each of my blogs (which proliferate faster than I can keep up), with a different log-in for each. In addition, since Yahoo bought Delicious, many of these now have Yahoo log-ins instead.

Fed up with all these different usernames and passwords (plus I don’t use Yahoo for anything else), I decided to bring all my bookmarks (both public and private) under my original account. Delicious offers an easy-peasy import and export tool for doing just that.

Tailored link rolls

However, I don’t want all my bookmarks to show on each website; they’re very different topics. So, I created a tag specific to each one, which I apply as relevant to the saved article. Delicious’ link roll tool then allows me to specific that tag when creating the each feed.

In addition, there’s an option to bundle articles and pages with specific tags (like Gmail’s labelling system), to help you quickly see articles once in your account (rather than searching by a specific tag).

Keeping things private

Of course, some pages are not for the general public, and there’s a simple ‘private’ option (which also appears as a tag) to make sure these are kept hidden. I’m sure there are other tools still to discover too.

And, hey presto, one account with a single username and password, but tailored for each blog. Now I just need to remember to use the correct tag (the one possible source of error!). Follow me on Delicious.

Of course, it was a Spanish event that also attracted some English speakers like myself. And herein lies the problem with lots of networking events – it’s scary speaking to new people. And if they speak a different language you’re not fluent in? Even more so.

Love people, dislike networking

I’m not really a fan of networking; it all feels a bit unnatural and, as far as I’m concerned, it’s a necessary evil. But conversely, I love meeting new people and talking with them. But not about work. And especially not in a forced way…

So, as often happens, people kept to the groups (of very lovely people, of course) that they knew. Next time, I think the ‘social’ aspect of the event should be harnessed, maybe in a ‘speed dating’ way.

Make friends, maybe influence people

Everyone who attends receives a number. Then they pick a number out of a hat and have to speak to that person for five minutes, at the same time swapping Twitter, LinkedIn or Facebook details. Repeat…

After maybe 30 minutes of this, everyone will have met 6 people and, hopefully, have enough people to speak to for the rest of the evening.

Where’s [the] Wally?

Check out this brilliant timelapse video of the event – can you spot me? I’m in a blue shirt and jeans, and am stood for quite a while on the right-hand side of the frame…

So what personality would you give the fonts you use? Is Times New Roman a dependable, retired Colonel with a moustache? Or maybe you prefer Calibri, a slightly hipper cousin of Arial, but still serious enough to roll out in front of the boss?

Is this how you see Times New Roman? Or maybe not...

Well, you might well be misreading your font’s personality – poor, misunderstood little guy. Or, actually, maybe he doesn’t give a damn, because he’s Comic Sans, asshole. (His words, not mine.)

Phew, who’d have thought that he’d be such a feisty one? Thanks be to @vickysquires for sending this to me. Made my day.

Letterpress in action: Photo by Graeme Robertson for The Guardian

After I left university I spent a short spell working for a printer in Oxfordshire. He’d spend hours in the hot, stuffy basement with this mechanical wonder, enveloped in ink fumes.

He used to put off the task for days, with an understandable dislike of the humid air and emerging light headed at the end. Still, I wish I’d insisted on learning more about the process (although I don’t recall it being letterpress).

I recently ordered a couple of t-shirts online from howies, and the company’s warm, informal tone (with a hint of dry wit) continued throughout the process. It really felt as though one person was speaking to me throughout.

For example, from the order confirmation:

A big thanks for your order [...] We will be burning the midnight oil to make sure your order is dealt with to make sure you’re not waiting too long! (By the way your card will not be charged until your stuff leaves our warehouse.) [...] A despatch confirmation e-mail will be sent to you as your order leaves us down here.

And from the despatch email:

Just thought you’d like to know your order is heading out of Cardigan Bay as we speak. And it’s heading your way. With luck and a good tailwind, it should be with you in the next day or so [...] If you ever come down to Cardigan Bay, please let us know and we will put the kettle on.

(However, I’d be curious to know if they really do welcome customers in for a cup of tea if they happen to be in the area. Whatever you write, it should be sincere.)

So, don’t forget all those little words that reach your customers, from email signatures and out-of-office replies through to rarely-read-but-required web pages (here’s a nice selection of creative aforementioned error pages).

This occurred to me while reading one of a series of blog posts in The Guardian by writer Will Self. There’s something reassuring in reading about how a distinguished wordsmith experiences the same challenges in mastering another language (in his case, French) as everyone else.

I can definitely relate to this comment:

I’ve noticed how acutely geared to my general wellbeing my ability to speak French has become: on days when I’m rested and in good spirits, I feel like a saucy Maurice Chevalier in the making, but on down days I’m Antonin Artaud, brokenly raging in a straitjacket of received English locutions.

Some days, I feel as though I could talk forever and my Spanish friends seem to understand me. Other days, I can barely maintain a basic conversation, throwing whoever I’m talking to into a state of confusion.

And while some people swear to a glass (or two) of red wine to make them slip into a fluency they can only dream of normally, I’m pretty certain they’re only fooling themselves. Booze befuddles my brain, making it nearly impossible to string together a coherent Spanish sentence.

Maybe the key’s to get the person I’m talking to drunk, instead; I’ll still be able to hold a conversation and they simply won’t care…!

They’re not all technically ‘tools’, but if they help us to do our jobs better, then that label’s good enough for me. Take ‘Netted’, a free daily email newsletter from the producers of the Webbys online awards.

Every day they dig up an interesting website and send it straight to your inbox. It’s a great way to find out about quirky apps and even discover something useful. Find out more and sign up.

It’s not just the art field; it’s most fields. People should be able to express complex ideas plainly, but they confuse complexity of language with complexity of thought. Or maybe they just aren’t saying anything real or don’t know what they’re trying to say. As Mr. Canter says, abstract nouns are one hallmark of empty writing.

Lots of companies are guilty of doing this with their web copy, for example. They think that by using longer words where simpler ones would do, they make their offering sound superior.

It doesn’t though. It alienates a lot of people and confuses them…

I can certainly remember reading descriptions about art shows and not really understanding what was being said. It went over my head, I assumed the show wasn’t for me and so I didn’t go. Imagine if that’s what your web copy’s doing to people who visit your site.

Muphry’s Law as defined by Wikipedia is:

…an adage that states that ‘if you write anything criticising editing or proofreading, there will be a fault of some kind in what you have written’. The name is a deliberate misspelling of ‘Murphy’s law’

The law states that:

(a) if you write anything criticising editing or proofreading, there will be a fault of some kind in what you have written;
(b) if an author thanks you in a book for your editing or proofreading, there will be mistakes in the book;
(c) the stronger the sentiment expressed in (a) and (b), the greater the fault;
(d) any book devoted to editing or style will be internally inconsistent.

I know I’ve been there: that sinking feeling as you read the introduction email you sent out last week, only to notice a typo in the text. Or the copy on your website, with an obvious (well, to everybody else but you) mistake in the title. Seeing, wood, trees, anyone?

We’re only human, of course, but for some reason that’s an excuse copywriters and editors can rarely use without meeting a snort of derision… Would love to read about any of your wordy foul (maybe ‘fowl’?) ups!