Jamaican and Scots

A few weeks ago I had an interesting discussion with a Jamaican poet about the Jamaican language. He told me how it is being standardised and used as a medium of instruction in schools, and is now considered a language in its own right. One advantage of using Jamaican in schools is that pupils who are hesitant to express themselves in English feel much more comfortable using Jamaican, and according to an article I found today, pupils educated bilingually in Jamaican and English tend to achieve better results and have better literacy skills in both languages than those educated solely in English.

In related news, the use of Scots in Scotland is increasing and this has had positive benefits for the pupils. According to this article, the introduction of Scots in one primary school has led to significant changes in the attitudes of some pupils. For example, boys who had little or no interest in reading really took to reading in Scots, and using the language they normally speak outside school has made them feel more engaged, comfortable and confident in school.

Jacob’s join

Jacob’s join is the term used by my mum and her friends to describe a get-together that involves each person bringing food – usually something they’ve made themselves – to share with the others. I would probably call such a gathering a potluck dinner/supper.

According to Wikipedia, the word potluck pr pot-luck first appeared in England during the 16th century in the workd of Thomas Nashe. At that time it referred to “food provided for an unexpected or uninvited guest, the luck of the pot”. It took on the sense of a meal where guest contribute dishes in the late 19th / early 20th century in the USA, and is thought to come from the Chinook Jargon word potlatch (gift), which comes from the Nootka p̓ačiƛ (to give in ceremony).

Other terms for Jacob’s join / potluck include: potluck dinner, spread, Jacob’s supper, faith supper, covered dish supper, pitch-in, carry-in, bring-a-plate and smorgasbord.

Is this kind of meal popular in your area? If so, what do you call it?

M’ayr

Ta mee ayns thie m’ayr as my voir rish shiaghtin dy leih nish. Ta’n lught thie aym ayn ayns shoh – my voir, my vraar, as my huyr as my vraar ‘sy leigh as ny kiyt oc. Agh dy meeaighar cha nel m’ayr ayn – hooar eh baase yn çhiaghtyn shoh chaie. V’eh 74 bleeaney d’eash as cha row eh çhing, as hooar shin greain agglagh tra hooar ee baase dy doaltattym jeh teaym chree moghrey ‘sy voghree Jecrean.

Va shirveish ny merriu ayn Jerdein yn çhiaghyn shoh as va ram sleih ayn. Hug my vraar, shenn co’obbree m’ayr as yn saggyrt moyllejyn yindyssagh, as ec yn farrar ny yei yn shirveish, haink mee ny quail ram sleih nagh vel mee er n’akin ad rish foddey dy hraa.

Mairagh hem er-ash dys Bangor, as hed my huyr, my vraar ‘sy leigh as ny kiyt oc er-ash dys Plymouth, agh ta cooney ry-gheddyn er my voir rish yn pobble ynnydagh ‘syn balley beg shoh.

M’athair

Tá mé i dteach mo thuismitheoirí ar feadh seachtaine go leith anois. Tá an teaghlach ar fad anseo – mo mháthair, mo dheartháir, agus mo dheirfiúr agus mo dheartháir céile agus a gcait. Ar an drochuair, níl m’athair ann – fuair sé bás an seachtain seo caite. Bhí sé 74 bliain d’aois agus ní raibh sé tinn, agus baineadh croitheadh asainn nuair a fhuair sé bás go tobann le taom croí go luath ar maidin Dé Céadaoin.

Bhí seirbhís na marbh ann Déardaoin an seachtain seo agus bhí a lán daoine ann. Thug mo dheartháir, sean chara agus comhghleacaí m’athair agus an biocáire ómós corraitheach, agus i ndiaidh an seirbhís, bhuail mé leis go leor daoine nach bhfuil mé ag bualadh leo le blianta.

Amárach rachaidh mé ar ais go Bangor, agus rachaidh mo dheirfiúr, mo dheartháir céile agus a gcait ar ais go Plymouth, ach tá cuidiú agus tacaíocht le fáil ag i bpobail i sráidbhaile beag seo.

Fy nhad

Dw i wedi bod yn nhŷ fy rhieni ers wythnos a hanner erbyn hyn. Mae’r teulu yma – fy mam, fy mrawd, a fy chwaer a brawd-yng-nghyfraith ac eu cathod. Ond yn anffodus dydy fy nhad ddim yma – mi wnaeth o farw yr wythnos diwetha. Roedd o’n 74 blwydd oed a doedd o ddim yn sâl, ac mi wnaethon ni sioc mawr pan wnaeth o farw efo trawiad ar y galon yn gynnar fore Mercher.

Roedd yr angladd Ddydd Iau yr wythnos hon ac roedd cryn dipyn o bobl yna. Mi wnaeth fy mrawd, hen gydweithiwr a’r ficar teyrngedau hyfryd, ac mi wnes i cwrdd â llawer o bobl mod i ddim wedi eu weld ers amser maith yn yr derbyniad ar ôl yr angladd.

Yfory bydda i’n mynd yn ôl i Fangor, ac bydd y chwaer, fy mrawd-yng-nghyfraith ac eu cathod yn mynd yn ôl i Plymouth, ond mae cymorth ar gael ar gyfer fy mam yn nghymuned agos y pentref bach ‘ma.

Blithering

The word blithering came up today in a comedy show I was listening to and this got me wondering about it’s origins.

It’s normally accompanied by idiot, as in blithering idiot, and means:

  1. talking incoherently, foolishly; senselessly talkative
  2. jabbering
  3. stupid, foolish, contemptible

Blithering comes from blither (to talk nonsense), which is a variant of blather, which is a Scots word probably from the Old Norse blaðra (chatter, babble) blaðr (nonsense).

Galapagar

galapagar, (noun, m) – sitio donde abundan los galápagos (a place abounding in tortoises).

I heard of this word today and it particularly appealed to me for its very specific meaning. It seems to be rare and doesn’t appear in any of my Spanish dictionaries, though it does appear in the Diccionario de la Lengua Española.

Related words include:

  • galápago – tortoise; mouldboard; ingot, pig; light saddle; sidesaddle
  • galapagueño – (from) the Galapagos (Islands)
  • galapagueña – native of the Galapagos (Islands)