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Monday 26 November 2012

Spot the frippet: recorder.

No, no, come back!!!

There's nothing wrong with recorders. Honestly. It's not recorders who torture people, it's the people who blow them.

And they can be full of joy:

Of course there are other recorders about the place: almost every bit of techno-kit nowadays includes a recorder of some kind, whether  it's a phone, camera, or computer.
Then there are the security cameras that are more or less  everywhere; and as if that's not enough then there's the self-recording possibilities of Twitter, Facebook, etc and, ahem, blogs (although blogs don't necessarily have to be all about the writer, obviously).
Good grief, I think it might be easier to live for an hour and not spotting a recorder. The chance of not being spotted by a recorder must be somewhere between a hundred per cent and zero, I should say.
You know, I'm being to wonder if even Little Brother can be entirely trusted...
Spot The Frippet: recorder. This word comes from the Old French recorder, which means to call to mind, and before that from the Latin recordārī, to remember. The cor bit is the Latin for heart.
The musical instrument is probably named from the old word  record, which means to sing like a bird.

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