Chapter 35 - Fun Guy or Fungi?

On, or to be more precise, In the Col des Fourches, one of the passes that looks out over the French-Italian border, we encountered a massive complex of derelict bunkers. The girls, who went in first as usual (I came up the pass a little later) were calling out 'Fun Guy! Fun Guy!' from the depths of the labyrinth. Feeling that they could only mean me (sorry Dad, but you know it's true) I dove in running and crawling to find them peering over a bunch of colourful mushrooms in one of the underground barracks. After ensuring in an app they were of the poisonous persuasion, Portia started to take samples, taking care to avoid skin contact. My disappointment was quickly forgotten when Robyn pointed out an old brown envelope on one of the non-fungified bunk beds. It was addressed to me!, That is to say, it said: 'To Sparrowhawk', which is my Librarian nickname. Robyn didn't know that though, so I had to curb my enthusiasm and smuggle out the envelope without the others noticing. This was managed by sitting down on it and Oooh and Aaah-ing the fungal find until they were done.

A quick peek into the envelope told me there was a single sheet of smelly vellum, signed by Unicorn. Because Mom and Dad were calling out impatiently, I stuffed the envelope in the now empty water bladder pocket inside my backpack, for later examination.

It was only later, when we had put up our tents next to a picturesque mountain lake (the midges weren't picturesque), that I could take out the envelope inside my tent, marginally improving the atmosphere.

It said: 'Dearest Sparrowhawk, Here follow instructions for your first real Librarian assignment. You may think you are on holiday. Think again.'

This was followed by instructions to set up 'The Unresolved Words Dictionary' at my own leisure (first draft expected upon return to the Library). Signed by Unicorn and sealed with something that resembled a slice of ancient salami. Closer inspection showed that it was an ancient slice of salami instead.

I lay awake all night in an attempt to get to a definition of 'unresolved words' and wondering how Unicorn had managed to track me down. I couldn't remember sharing our itinerary with her.

The next day, we celebrated the fact that wild camping is free by getting lunch in some obscure bistro. 'Borrowing' a pen from the table next to ours, I started jotting down some ideas of what might turn out to be unresolved words and their possible meaning. I started with knick-knacks, briefly wondering how to separate the knicks from the knacks? (I know how, it's a knack)

Looking at this critically I went on:

explosion - plosion: a.k.a. a bomb before it has been detonated.

deter - ter. Ter would be the same thing as encouragement.

There's loads of dis- words in this unresolved category. Dis- suggests the lacking or opposite of the following statement.

After the list of regular disses: dismount, disrobe, discontinue, we get to the unresolved ones.

dishevelled - shevelled or should that be hevelled? I don't think my hair ever reached the ultimate state of hevelment my Mom aspires.

distract - tract. Tract is versatile, also used in contract, attract, protract. But what is it? Some sort of binding force, it appears. I'll park that for later.

discuss - cuss. Those do not have to be mutually exclusive according to recent personal experience.

dishwasher - hwasher sounds like a very posh flattened steel ring.

I steered clear of disseminate (gross!) and lacking any inspiration on what a 'ney' would be, I decided to cross out that entry entirely, circumventing any trademark issues in the process.
Come to think of it: Where exactly is the vent located on the circum? I wonder. Google yields volcanoes if I enter that query. Definitely unresolved word material!

Related to dis- is de-...

decide - cide: One thing's for sure. I am a Grand Master in ciding.
devious - vious. I don't think anyone would be happy to be called vious... Obviously

Hmmmm Obvious - vious... Previous - vious. I see a trend. Maybe we can come to the generic meaning of vious after all.

More on the Ob- thing.... Obsolete - solete. In Spanish, solete is sunshine...

You know what? I think this needs a more structural approach that exceeds the capabilities of this paper napkin. (Don't mind the stains! Writing and eating do not particularly go together that well)

Because everybody else was ready to go again, I stuffed the pen and napkin in my back pocket and the remaining bit of baguette in my mouth. (the other way round would have been gross!

After getting my backpack on again, I removed the pen from my back pocket. I am not yet ready to get any body part pierced at this moment in time.

Sometime later, Mom complained about the bulging state of my trouser pockets (as usual). This was just as well, because the paper napkin had been quietly turning into mush under the influence of sweat.

If you wonder how the not yet entirely ancient writings from the holey napkin ended up in this diary after all... Magic, of course!

When I checked the envelope again later that day, an extra piece of paper fell out, which contained a Librarian side quest that involved analysing the commonality in everyday speech of Eisenbahnknotenpunkthinundherschieber

and Nähmaschinenherstellerpersonalsvereinsuntersekretärin if/when we pass through Germany on the way back.

That will take some persuasion, because the bus company intends to stay in France on their way to Paris.

The next most interesting event of the day was the discussion that ensued after there was uncertainty which bag contained the home/air-dried mushrooms for our dinner and which one had the poisonous mushroom samples obtained earlier that day.