I have just been dipping into a new book out this month called How to sound really clever: 600 words you need to know by Hubert van den Bergh. It is a really fascinating read, because as well as defining some impressive but seldom used words, it also gives the odd snippet of history about more common words and phrases such as how obeisance which came from the old French ‘an act of obeying’ came to mean showing reverence by bowing or kneeling.

The book brought to mind a phrase the great Stephen Fry coined, I think possibly in his novel The Liar , when he referred to ‘sixth form words’. I always remember that phrase when I am tempted to use a flowery word when writing a novel. After all, as a novelist I want people to be caught up in action and atmosphere, not to be jerked out of story by a word that makes them stop and think what on earth is the author rambling on about. So much as I am tempted to adumbrate instead of outline , I try to resist the urge. Unless, of course, one of my characters is fustian in his speech.

But I adore books like this one by Van den Burgh, just because I love interesting words and I want them to go on being used, so they don’t become extinct.

I collect old words too, just because they are so delicious and sound so right. Among my personal treasures are words like burbles – the rash you get when you touch stinging nettles. Shuckish - isn’t that a wonderful word to describe unpleasant , showery weather?

And who could resist the word scurryfunge which means to hastily tidy the house between the time you see someone walking up the path and answering the door to them. I am the first to admit I regular scurryfunge, a habit which I am sure started as a child whenever I heard an adult’s footsteps on the stairs when I had to hastily shove the book I shouldn’t have been reading out of sight and pretend to be doing my homework instead.

Are there any other scurryfungers out there or am I just talking dildrums ?