noun: a current of unpleasantly cold air blowing through a room; a system of storing and serving drinks from large containers, especially barrels; a large amount of liquid that you swallow; (draughts) a game for two people, each with twelve circular pieces that they move on a board with black and white squares; name given to one of the twelve circular pieces in a game of draughts; a medicine in the form of a liquid; adjective: (of drinks such as beer) stored in and served from large containers, especially barrels
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A draught of cold, draught beer over a game of draughts sounds perfect… as long as we don’t sit in a draught! This isn’t the first time I’ve been bewildered by the multitude of meanings a single word can convey, and I’m sure it won’t be the last…
Which draught is the first one that springs to mind for you? I’m quite sensitive to draughts in bed – I make a sort of cocoon with the duvet to keep them out. Then again, every time I visit a new pub I ask what’s on draught… But there doesn’t seem to be much of a connection between these things, does there?
Cold could be a common denominator. Cold air, cold beer. But that doesn’t help with taking a draught of something, does it? Mind you, as a draught is generally quite a substantial swig, you couldn’t really have a draught of scalding tea or coffee! How about motion? Moving air, moving liquid. Not sure a draught of medicine moves until you take it, but taking it is the general idea of a draught, right? Even the board game “draughts” requires moving pieces, which, incidentally, are also called draughts…
I used to like playing draughts when I was little, but I always associated it with chess. I guess it’s because they’re both played on the same board. I preferred chess as a game, but back then I had trouble finding an opponent of the right skill level…
Even over two decades later, it pains me to admit my older brother completely outclassed me. I choose to believe that’s no longer the case, but truthfully there’s no reason to believe that time alone will have bridged the gap. Narrowed? Probably. I was a child and he was a teenager when last we played. Now, we’re both adults. Even so, completely catching up without practice? Unlikely. As for my peers…
Well, I can only surmise that chess wasn’t very popular among children where I lived in the early 2000s. I did play in school, but then I had the equivalent opposite problem. It was too easy. Most of the other kids didn’t even understand the rules! I got bored or frustrated relatively quickly whichever way the game was mismatched…
Then I found draughts. Even though I considered the game itself less engaging, the experience of playing draughts against a competent opponent was far more enjoyable than a mismatched game of chess. At least, it was until the patterns became too obvious, the game reduced to a formulaic sequence. Too much of a good thing? Or did I simply outgrow draughts?
Ironically, I never used to really be aware of draughts (I’m on air currents, now, by the way). I recall my parents and grandparents asking me on numerous occasions “aren’t you chilly in that draught?” or “are you OK there? You’re right in the draught!” Now, I will concede that this was a long time ago and I was a stubborn child, so I would have said “I’m fine” or “it’s not cold” or something along those lines whether or not I was cold. That being said, I don’t recall being bothered by draughts – or even noticing them – but I definitely remember being asked about it. Fast-forward about three decades and it’s a completely different story…
You may or may not recall my comment earlier about wrapping myself in a cocoon in bed. I do this because there have been numerous occasions when a draught has kept me awake at night, or worse: given me a stiff neck the following morning. A duvet cocoon is the only effective defence against this onslaught of air, which has been assailing me for over a decade. Before that, I can only assume the draught in my bedroom didn’t exist. Unless it chose to start attacking me at that particular time, moving on from its previous victim? The change can’t be with me in this instance, as becoming more sensitive to the cold sounds like an old-people thing. Therefore the draught must have only come into being when I began to feel it. Though, I must admit, it has increased the scope of its assaults in the last year…
I go for a walk most days. I won’t extol the virtues of doing so here. What I will say is that my walks aren’t weather-dependent – if it’s raining cats and dogs, or there’s a named storm I might give it a miss – but generally I’ll just wear a coat if it’s a bit cold or wet and go anyway. Lately, I’ve found a draft creeping down the back of my neck when I walk. Sometimes it’s so irritating I put my hood up in the sunshine and look like some sort of antisocial person, and l dread to think what it does to my hair! These draughts didn’t exist when I was little. Where did they come from? Why are they here now? Can I send them back? Not down my back. Back where they came from.
Well, dear reader, I feel we’re getting nowhere fast with these draughts, so let’s wrap it up in a duvet cocoon before we start overthinking: otherwise we might have to force our delicate minds to slow down with a few draught beers!
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