Back home and for no reason I can put finger to I’m reminded of, perhaps you will remember it, too, Fun with Phonics.

Wasn’t it fun? Your was yer or yur or whatever one wished same as literal and littoral could be speeched aloud with no fear or embarrassment at literally misunderstanding the meaning of littoral in an amorphous sea of language soup lively as the primordial ooze that begunst it awl.

Fewer grammatical rules to know meant fewer errors, or at the very least fewer noticed. If less and less of us care I guess that’s progress of a sort, and whom I to say what makes for progress in the progression of things marching or dawdling or waltzing or strolling etc. on.

So long as we’re happy is a good rule if, that is, anyone can go forthly to fetch a pail of happiness, happy or even a quart of giggles and cup of smiles.

Buy any whey, phonical phun hit me the other day when going down a hall a person approaching bore a T shirt emblazoned TULANE.

Phonic intuition (a recent invention of mine) alerted me to there being at least three and more likely four lanes wrapped up in that T shirt, so it was best by far for me to make way or weigh if I wished and was wise.

A rule of the sea more practical and useful than blips on GPS or navigator’s guides is simply this. Yield to tonnage.

A simple and practical guide says afoot or afloat if something big heads your way then move out of its way fastly as you kin. At sea, and in general elsewhere, tonnage does not change course either easily or quickly.

So the bees has it that lesser tonnage has a better chance of avoiding than th’ ‘ther why round. Yield to tonnage might be a good thing to keep in mind in many a sit and uation.

Put in plain, the heavily loaded barge has less chance spotting the rowboat than the rowboat has of seeing the barge baring, bearing, Bering down.

Word to the whys. Tis wise dome at its loftiest to not announce aloud the tonnage rule unless darn, dang, damn, dam sure the tonnage isn’t withing striking distance and might take offense.

Same as, in some situations, calling out Wide Load, an expression my mother (for one) viewed with great exception. Do I need explain? Doubt it.

But if you’ve any wonders wandering in you try sitting outside a plus sizes store to wave a banner happily inviting Wide Loads Welcome!

Being away from American English for as long as I was I’m able to point out a few language quirks of possible (who knows) use.

For one, I think the typical midwestern American hears most British, Australian and New Zealand accents as more ‘r less equivalent. Knock down Scottish or Irish accents we can usually pick out and identify. But the rest are a bit too close to tell unless you come from there or care, which I didn’t, don’t, not particularly.

The generalized Brit sees (or doesn’t) the ordinary r in ways a bit (understandably so) foreign to American speakers. How’d you do if you had to distinguish the sources of you-all, y’all,  uwall and yowl.

OK, then, ignorant and ill-eared me can’t easily distinguish between versions of Brit accent, but though the Brits pick up the auditory distinctions they mostly (far as I could tell by observation) use other distinguishing marks.

Australians, as example, were more than willing to point out a New Zealander as identifiable by having chips on both shoulders. I guess that’s somewhat on the harsh side, as was a New-Z calling Australia a long seacoast with a desert filling inside.

I did (I thought surely to my credit) ask about the restaurant I was sure had to be at the heart and core of Alice Springs, Australia.

My conclusion was that either the majority of traveling Australians were ignorant of the iconic and famous Alice’s Restaurant or were part of a close-held conspiracy to keep that fabled eatery to themselves. What’s your guess?

I was told by those claiming direct knowledge that it was not worth the trip to go on my own to find out. Clearly, too, the ship was not going there (it’s in a desert, you see) so a side trip wasn’t going to happen.

The point is, sorting out the differing groups turned into (for me) a matter of watching and listening.

F’r instance, I doubt anything I might say in description of N-Z and N-Zers would disclose as much as a simple recitation of events in the parking lot of a popular N-Z nature park. (Have your picture taken with a koala anyone?)

Multiple official vehicles (at least three) came in to make sure all the buses parked there were not running at idle for more than 15 minutes. Yep, send six to eight officers to a park for engine-idling supervision. Some serious climate protectionism there, and I’ll tell you true, a seriousness generally unseen outside N-Z.

I wish, for those among you who’ve missed the fun of world travel with committed cruisers, it was possible to convey the full glory of global frolicking.

Imagine, if you will, a mix of people, half of whom make a damp dishtowel seem interesting and the other half believing that they, as soggy dishcloths, are of interest beyond imagining.

If there were Olympic awards to be given out for the unsung sport of talking small with utter sincerity I’d wager (and bet I’d win) that most contenders would claim credit based on travel by ship where they contributed to the progress of the voyage by way of regular eating and drinking.

When comes to accomplishment and achievement sitting butt down to be served at a nicely set table strikes me as leaner than fat free as personal success.

Self-flattery might have it so, but being served on a ship and doing half-day land tours is not much to exalt oneself. Not even a worthy effort, except for the easily satisfied.