One of the pleasures of adulthood is looking back and savoring certain childhood memories. Trying to figure out why they were so much fun at the time can be a joyful sentimental journey.

I practically lived inside the covers of my World Book encyclopedia and companion Childcraft books when I was a little girl. I remember they were bought from a traveling door-to-door salesman. I believe their purchase caused some consternation in the household as Dad accused Mom of buying something “impulsive and unnecessary.”

As irony would have it, when Dad died, I retrieved the World Book encyclopedia from his house, not Mom’s. Who knows what happened there. Divorce collateral damage.

For my part, I am glad Mom bought them. The story below I first discovered in Childcraft. The nonsense of it and the twisting around of words in my head and mouth were delicious to play with and read out loud. It was the same sort of rolling around of words in your brain as you might do in your mouth with a caramel toffee candy or dessert confection.

This tiny tale was no doubt partially responsible for igniting my love of words. For reasons unknown, I hung on to “hot cockalorum” over the years.

Do not expect common sense here. It is a silly story. But I am still impressed now, as I was back then, by how quick and clever that young servant girl had to be to remember all the crazy words the old man taught her just hours before.

Girls – including servant girls – rock.

Master of All Masters

https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/eft/eft43.htm

“A girl once went to the fair to hire herself for servant. At last, a funny-looking old gentleman engaged her, and took her home to his house. When she got there, he told her that he had something to teach her, for that in his house he had his own names for things.

He said to her: ‘What will you call me?’

‘Master or mister, or whatever you please, sir,’ says she.

He said: ‘You must call me “master of all masters”. And what would you call this?’ pointing to his bed.

‘Bed or couch, or whatever you please, sir.’

‘No, that’s my “barnacle”. And what do you call these?’ said he, pointing to his pantaloons.

‘Breeches or trousers, or whatever you please, sir.’

‘You must call them “squibs and crackers”. And what would you call her?’ pointing to the cat.

‘Cat or kit, or whatever you please, sir.’

‘You must call her “white-faced simminy”.

And this now,’ showing the fire, ‘what would you call this?’

‘Fire or flame, or whatever you please, sir.’

‘You must call it ‘hot cockalorum”, and what this?’ he went on, pointing to the water.

‘Water or wet, or whatever you please, sir.’

‘No, “pondalorum” is its name. And what do you call all this?’ asked he, as he pointed to the house.

‘House or cottage, or whatever you please, sir.’

‘You must call it “high topper mountain”.’

That very night the servant woke her master up in a fright and said: ‘Master of all masters, get out of your barnacle and put on your squibs and crackers. For white-faced simminy has got a spark of hot cockalorum on its tail, and unless you get some pondalorum high topper mountain will be all on hot cockalorum’ . . . That’s all.