Quince

Palimpsest. There’s a word. And I keep coming across it in the pretentious periodicals that I peruse. And every time I have to look it up. No more: I think I’ve finally got it lodged. Of course, how to pronounce it is an altogether tougher nut to get my teeth around. Like any over-educated bairn from the schemes, my vocabulary is of course impressively huge, but as most of my peers were inarticulate oafs, learning the correct pronunciation for anything which wasn’t spoken amongst the hoi polloi was always problematical. I mean ennui is surely enunciated as ennyouay. Isn’t it? I remember my pal Stevie braying with laughter as he met someone who thought pizza was pronounced exactly that: with the "i" as in "indeed." Indeed. Titter, I shall not: my cheeks still redden at the memory of the first time I was in a coffee shop in the metropolis, which incidentally wasn’t Crawford’s. Surveying the board of coffees on offer, I declared that I wished for a mocha. Well, how was I to know that the "ch" wasn’t as in "chair" but was rather as in "loch." The barista (another new name) kindly loudly corrected me. Is there any greater shame? 
So, Sunday, and the son came for breakfast which I served up with elan. He might just have preferred brown sauce mind.