Here’s a sight that struck fear into my heart. After months of work, a development proposal has been lodged. Oh, as they say, noes! The whole thing has been skating on very thin ice and now it might be declared illegal.
But closer examination revealed that the proposal is to have the number of outside tables increased ‘from four (4) to twenty (20)’. Incidentally, since I was about eight years old, I’ve wondered why notices from local councils and similar organisations do that with numbers. My mother explained to me that it’s so people who have trouble reading the spelled out version will be helped by the numerical version. I wasn’t convinced then, and now it just looks like ornamentation to indicate officialness.
I wrote off to Council expressing my support.
I had a brief chat the other day with Rod, the proprietor, who is looking slightly less harried though possibly more panicked with each passing day. He’s now chasing up suppliers, and said he was confident the grand opening would happen before 12 August.
I have hated that word (number) thing for at least thirty (30) years. Some places where I’ve worked as an editor have been especially bad at it, but they always looked very confused when I asked they found it necessary to do it. It seems to be part of the verbal furniture in some professions.
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M-H: Maybe irritations of this sort are a marker for future employment as an editor.
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