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Athirst can mean thirsty (from the Old English ofthyrst apparently). It also means eager or strongly desirous as in athirst for knowledge. I think I’ll combine them into athirst for a nice cold glass of wine – and as it’s my birthday today I reckon I’m entitled.

The second definition surprised me. I’d heard the phrase and understood the meaning, but had thought it was written as ‘a thirst for knowledge’.

Parbuckle is … what I get when I ask my husband for a word of the week suggestion. A parbuckle is a rope or sling used to raise or lower casks or other cylindrical objects.

When used to right a ship, I suppose parbuckling is the opposite of careening. I used to talk about careening in my day job but as I don’t do it any more, I’ll spare you the details. When not used in a nautical context careening means to swerve about.

Here’s a picture of a ship. I careened (slowly) up a nearby mountain to take the photo.

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My dictionary doesn’t think fettling is a word. It’s wrong.

Gary spends quite a bit of time fettling. It’s the present participle of the verb fettle and means sorting out, tidying up and tiddlying off.

Fettle is in my dictionary. It means condition or trim – as in ‘he felt in fine fettle‘. It can also be what you do to tidy metal castings or pieces of pottery before firing them.

Fettler is also in my dictionary. A fettler is a person who fettles.

I can’t say for certain this pot was ever fettled, but my Black Pearl chili growing in it is in fine fettle, don’t you think?

Quite a bit of fettling of my stories is needed before I’m ready to submit them to magazines or enter them in competitions. I think it’s worth the effort.

Paraskevidekatriaphobia is the fear of Friday 13th.

There isn’t one this month. Would it worry you if there was? Personally I’d be more concerned about trying to write  Paraskevidekatriaphobia instead of relying on cut and paste as I have here.

I’ve never actually climbed a ladder to prune a huge wisteria, as the characters in my story published in the current (11th March) issue of Ireland’s Own. However, if it wasn’t for the ladder part I reckon that, thanks to my research, I’d be able to do it.

One of the things I learned is that you don’t usually tackle the job in one go, but do it in stages, with a light trim in summer and a more thorough cut back later. That’s appropriate as this story was written in two stages. The original version was for my writing group’s annual competition. It didn’t win, but was up against stiff competition and the judge said nice things about it.

I decided to extend it for a magazine – it’s now twice the initial length, with much more detail and a more involved plot. The story was accepted and will later go into one of my themed collections, so even if I never go anywhere near a wisteria plant with a pair of secateurs, I feel learning how to do the job was worthwhile.

A hound is a type of dog used for hunting or tracking, a person in keen pursuit of something (eg newshound) or a despicable person (you ain’t nothing but a hound dog). It can also mean to urge on or nag and to pursue relentlessly. (Sometimes I feel I’m hounding editors with my submissions.)

The dog in the picture isn’t a hound, I know but Hev Ock is cute isn’t she? A lovely friend gave her to me for luck. She sits on my desk underneath the monitor between a glass goat and a musket ball.