Shingle [words on wednesdays]
The word of the week is:
- a rectangular wooden tile used on walls or roofs.
- a pebble beach
- dated a woman’s short haircut in which the hair tapers from the back of the head to the nape of the neck.
- a small signboard, especially one found outside a doctor’s or lawyer’s office.
Here is a short example from Unless by Carol Shields
I love this house, Tom and I – we’ve been together for twenty six years, which is the same as being married – moved here in 1980, next door to the red-shingled house he grew up in and where his mother still lives, a 70 year old widow, rather gaunt these days, and increasingly silent. Tom, like his father before him, has a family practice in Orangetown, a quick ten minutes away, but he spends at least a third of his time working on trilobite research, his hobby, his avocation, he would tell you in a kind of winking way so that you understand trilobites are his real work.
Write for five minutes, using the word “shingle” as frequently as you can. When you’re finished, post your practice in the comments section.
As many people are clambering across roofs attaching holiday lights and decorations this is for them.
Also, extra credit if you use the word of the week in your daily practice!
Clarrie hated Mrs. Browne-Thomas. It wasn’t the attitude that came with the double barrelled surname, many of her clients treated her like a serving girl. It wasn’t the odour of parma violets that pervaded from her twin set and pearls, it wasn’t even the occasional silent but deadlies she let out just as Clarrie tackled the nape of her neck.
It was the cut, a throwback to Mary Quant in the 60’s and the emancipated women of the 1920’s. Mrs Browne-Thomas weighed at least 270lbs, she would squelch her frame into the PVC chair, her puffy short legs dangling. She would sit back and start telling Clarrie her many woes.
No matter how Clarrie tried she could not get a straight line on the shingle at the back, the folds of the skin had a life of their own. She would try and try to make the step like tiles on a roof but the skin wobbled this way and that. Clarrie prided herself on making anyone look good, she loved to make these cantankerous old ladies feel pretty again but Mrs Browne-Thomas was her nemesis, or her hair was and this overweight lady left the salon, helmeted. The strands of hair melted into the skin and Clarrie remained defeated.