I’ve been thinking about words. I write, so words literally fill my world.  

In English, we have an average vocabulary of between 20,000 and 40,000 words. (You know I am competitive so you can absolutely bet that I went online and did a test to measure my vocabulary.)

The measure of our vocabulary is influenced by class and education and whether English is our first language. There’s an implied sense of superiority at knowing lots of convoluted words and being able to tie sentences up in bonds and tethers, but actually, the point of words is to get your meaning across and often the best way to do that is to say it straight, unpicking those linguistic knots.

Still, I do love words. I like the way some words feel in the mouth. There is a physical sensory experience with certain words that is separate from their intrinsic meaning.

Hippopotamus is one. I love the word hippopotamus, even if I can’t actually spell it, writing it three different ways before giving in to autocorrect. But in the mouth, it has a more delectable feel. The way my tongue and lips shape the word, combined with the breath to breathe life into it, feels joyful.

Is that weird?

The same sensory experience is not there for hippocampus, – auto-corrects first suggestion for my disastrous spelling. So, what is it about hippopotamus? There are other words, perfidious, that dance across the tongue, Crepuscular, that lingers in the breath. Is it the sibilant sound that seduces in the mouth?

And it’s not just the mouth, certain words have emotions attached to them that is beyond their meaning. Hippopotamus is joyful, even if hippos are somewhat curmudgeonly. (the word hippo has no extra joy- why is that?)

Talking with a friend, she discovered that honey has the same effect on her but does nothing for me, though talking more it was the childhood association of sweet stickiness that delighted rather than the mouthfeel of the word itself.

Is there a word to describe how a word feels in the mouth? Do you have a sensory experience expressing certain words? Is it just me?

The opposite is also true. There are words that, more than simply being unable to say, I’m repulsed by the feel of them in my mouth.

Anyone who knows me, knows I love to swear. Swearwords have a knack for getting straight to the point, sharp and funny and multifaceted (ooh that has a nice mouth feel.) Still, there are certain swearwords that silence me.

I cannot say the word bi**h. I cannot type it because I’ve just realised writing this to you, that typing is just me talking, the words silently appearing on my tongue before transmutation onto the page.

It is not just the feminist rejection of referring to women in this way.  (I am too old-school to see the co-oping of this word as an empowering expression of lad-culture early 21^st Century-Feminism. It smacks of misogyny to me – what curses have men had to co-pt to access self-definition and empowerment.)

But it’s more than this. It’s the feel of the word in my mouth, the way my lips flatten to form the b, the shorting of the tongue, the curling of the top lip. The sensory expression of saying the word is uncomfortable, to the point of avoidance.

Am I the only one to have this synesthetic experience, – ooh that’s nice. How lush is that?

Are you weird too? Do words haunt your everyday, wondering about meaning and origin? Do certain words percussively shuffle across the tongue while others leave you expressionless.

Go on, give it a go. Wander around your house enunciating.

Let me know your favourite words.

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