Tricky one today. Took me 5/6. Good luck for the big 200!
The message flashes up on my phone as I pour cornflakes into a bowl, at 7.38am. I am late. Usually, it is done in bed a minute or two after my 7am alarm. By 7.05am, I am basking in the glory of success for another day. Today, I am holding off. Teasing myself. Ready to see if I can keep it up for 200 days on the trot.
The text had come from my good friend, Jane. I hastily type out a quick reply.
Thank you! Will let you know how I get on. . .
I glug a generous splash of milk in with the cornflakes and sit down at the kitchen table. I open Safari on my phone and click on the familiar tab in my favourites list, as I have done every morning for the last couple of years.
Go ahead, add another day to your 199 day streak.
Wordle, you little minx.
I am still a die-hard Wordler, two years on. Attention spans of family, friends and colleagues seemed to have waned over time. Not for me – it’s now engrained into my morning routine as much as brushing my teeth or making the bed. There’s something almost ritualistic about it. I missed a day in June 2023, when horribly hungover. The memory still haunts me.
ADIEU. My go-to starter word since my former one, AUDIO, had cropped up as the answer, and earned me my one and only 1/6. You can imagine my delight that day as the five tiles turned green in quick succession on my first attempt!
Four vowels felled in one clean swoop. In my mind, it’s the most sensible way to start. Almost always guarantees at least one letter, or the knowledge that you’re looking for a word featuring O (or Y) on the rare occasion there’s no matches. I dare not switch away from ADIEU now, for fear of breaking the streak. Or the horror of missing a second 1/6 on the day it finally comes up.
I slurp a big spoonful of cornflakes, and plot my next move.
Another favourite of mine to use early. R, S and T – if their Scrabble tile values are anything to go by – are good ones to find or eliminate early. Chuck in an O and that’s all the vowels ticked off. A is doing the heavy lifting in today’s word then.
I’ve managed 2/6 just 23 times in my 800+ plays. If I get it in 2 or 3, I usually feel quite smug. Those lazy student afternoons watching Countdown paying off.
Getting it in 3 today looks doubtful, but on I plod.
Hmm. Should I be getting worried yet? Halfway through my guesses, and only one letter in the right place. Still, I’ve eliminated plenty of common letters, so I’m still feeling in good shape.
This is by far my best streak. 103 was my previous record, so I’ve exceeded my expectations considerably this time. Every day beyond that has been a bonus. When I got to about 180, I recall saying to Jane it would be nice to make it to 200.
Jane and I update each other with our scores each day, as part of the daily Wordle ritual. She’s the one friend who’s kept up the routine with me. A friendship built on a mutual love of good books, good television and good cake. I’m now of an age where I only want to surround myself with good people, and Jane is one of the best. With a top streak of 127.
Uh-oh.
I’m raising the spoon from the bowl, but in the distraction of watching (no pun intended) the letters flip, I miss my mouth and end up with a milky chin.
Trouble ahead. The worst kind of word, with so many possibilities to fill the missing letter.
I run through them in my head. BATCH. CATCH. HATCH. LATCH. MATCH. PATCH.
Don’t panic. Experience has taught me not to wildly guess at this point. The odds are not in my favour. Early into my Wordle career, I would have plumped for the word I liked the sound of best. Now a seasoned pro, I know there’s only one wise move to make here.
Elimination word time.
A slow gasp seeps from the corner of my mouth, as not a single letter turns yellow or green. The spoon clatters into the bowl, the cornflakes abandoned until further notice.
What are the chances?! BLIMP covered 4 out of the 6 remaining letter possibilities, and would have set me up for a confirmed 6/6 finish had any of them turned as a colour.
A 50:50 shoot-out remains. CATCH or HATCH. Red or black. All or nothing.
I haven’t faced a dilemma like this in 200 days.
Blind guesswork is all that can save me now. My fate is in the hands of the Wordle gods. No more clever tactics, no more elimination words. Just some good old fashioned luck. A dollop of faith. And a little dash of hope.
Well, indeed, here’s hoping. . .
CATCH appears tauntingly in a black box over the grid, confirming it had been the word of the day.
Caught on CATCH, the irony isn’t lost on me. I chuckle to myself.
A 200 streak will have to wait for another day. Another day over six months away at least. A final mouthful of cornflakes precedes a slurp of milk from the bowl. The daily routine continues. Time to message Jane.
Until tomorrow, adieu.