Just a word or two on how my day went yesterday, August 25th, 2013.
First a quick explanation of some terms:
Chew the Rag:
I heard when I was young that "chew the rag" came from black-powder rifle days when men sat around talking as they chewed the rags used for wadding a ball into the rifle. The material needed to be softened and lubricated to make starting the ball easier. I've actually done this way back when I used to shoot cap locks.
CHEW THE FAT - "One guess is that this expression was originally a nautical one: Sailors working their jaws on the tough salt pork rationed out when supplies ran low constantly grumbled about their poor fare while literally chewing the fat." From "Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins" by Robert Hendrickson (Facts on File, New York, 1997). Another reference says, ".'Rag (or fat) chewing' we have had since the early 1880's. It was then classed as American Army slang, in Patternson's 'Life in the Ranks.' To my notion, although either expression may have been adopted into army lingo, both are much more likely to have alluded to ladies' sewing circles - to the 'rags,' or cloth, upon which they worked while tongues clattered, or to the 'fat,' or choice morsels of gossip upon which they could feast." From "Heavens to Betsy!" by Charles Earle Funk (Harper & Row, New York, 1955).
Doesn't it seem unlikely, though, that anyone could talk much while literally chewing rags or fat? I'm inclined to believe that the phrase arises from a witty comparison: persons engaged in idle conversation are saying nothing of importance, they're only working their jaws --- as when chewing the rag.
Ankle Biter:
Meaning
A small child. Also applied to small dogs.
Origin
This phrase has a contemporary feel, but it was first recorded in the mid-19th century. Harper's Magazine, September 1850, has:
"And how are you, John? and how's Molly, and all the little ankle-biters?"
The phrase then seems to disappear from sight for over 100 years. It isn't clear whether the Harper's citation was a one-off usage and the phrase originated later independently. It's possible that it stayed alive as un-recorded slang but, even if it did stay in the language from 1850 onward, printed citations appear to be in limbo until Iona and Peter Opie's The lore and language of schoolchildren, 1959:
"A chap who has got duck's disease is most often labelled 'Tich’ in a friendly manner, or '‘squirt’ or 'little squirt’ in a less friendly manner. Alternatively: ankle biter, dolly mixture [etc.]."
It is included in several lists of phrases as being of Australian origin but, whilst it certainly sounds Australian, the early references to the phrase in print don't support such an origin.
At the bugsmasher field we refer to Student Pilots as "Ankle Biters"...
City Slickers:
An idiomatic expression for someone accustomed to a city or urban lifestyle and unsuited to life in the country. The term was typically used as a term of denison by rural folks who regarded them with amusement...
Knights and Tournaments:
Tournaments provided a means for knights to practice warfare and build their strength in times of peace. Tournaments were essentially mock battles with audiences. The audience was usually made up of "fair damsels". This was another way in which a knight was expected to act chivalrous. The tournaments had different rules that had to be followed. They were judged by umpires that watched for dishonest play. Tournaments were usually fought between either two people or two teams. If two people fought a tournament, it was usually by jousting. The two knights would gallop across the playing field at each other. They carried long, blunt poles and shields. The objective was to knock the other person out of his saddle. Team play was conducted with fierce mock combat between two bands of fighters. They fought with wooden or blunted weapons so as to reduce the risk of getting hurt. However, this was often not the case. Many people did get hurt or die by accident.
The old girl was getting saved at Church and I arrived at the Bugsmasher Field to chew the rag around the Flying Club Bullshit Table with a few other Old Retired Rocking Chair Flying Geezers like we do most Sunday mornings. (I do get to Church four or five time a year)
A retired Royal Canadian Air Force Wellington Pilot started a conversation about his trip (one of many) back to merry old England and how well his daughter drives in London where she teaches.
Asking how she liked to drive on the left side of the road he said it didn't seem to bother her much.
An old OFF (Ontario Flying Farmer) asked him why they would not drive on the right side of the road.
Well that started the ball a rolling.
We were told that driving on the left side of the road came from the Knights of old and their Jousting Tournaments. They would approach each other from the left side of the rail or fence.
Well then came the question.
Why are the highways not called the Knights Highway instead of the Kings or Queens Highway?
I sat back in my chair looking out the window at one of the Flying Instructors in his grey slacks, white shirt, epaulettes adorned with more gold braid than a Bohemian General, not old enough to shave yet and probably just out of High School walking an Ankle Biter around the training aircraft.
Just watching this Flying Instructor I knew he was building time to start a career somewhere flying off a Commercial Flying Field with multiple hard surface runways and far away from grass airstrips.
Hmm I thought, that was a good question, why don't they call them the Knights Highways?
By the time I got back into the jest of things the other Old Retired Rocking Chair Flying Geezers were chewing the rag about something else...
My trusty Land Rover got me home to find the old girl busy in the kitchen, cutting cake and pie she had baked earlier that morning, she was preparing to place it all out on our dining room table.
Who is coming I asked?
The Minister, his wife and some folks from the church I was told.
I just knew right then and there that no pie would be left for me to have with my tea about 20:00 Hrs that night.
The old girl looked at me and said: go and shower again, change my clothes as it was Sunday as I smelt like the bugsmasher field.
Well, what the devil does a bugsmasher field smell like I thought.
I know what an OFF "Ontario Flying Farmers" field smells like.
I love the smell of military and DeHavilland Aircraft, but a bugsmasher field...
I guess that is another topic to bring up around the Bullshit Table at the Bugsmasher Field for the Old Retired Rocking Chair Flying Geezers to chew the rag about.
AND yes I was right, there was no pie left for me Sunday night...
Another great post Doug! I enjoy reading about your Sundays. I mowed the lawn, did my laundry and bathed the dog.. 
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