Skinwel

When I learnt that the Breton word for television is skinwel, I wondered where it came from. Today I think I’ve found the answer (via TermOfis) – skin means ray, and appears in words such as:

skinek = radiant
skinad = radiation
skinañ = to radiate, shine, beam
skinforn = microwave oven (“ray oven”)
skin an Heol = sunbeam (“ray of the sun”)
skingomz = radio (“ray talk”)
skingaser = transmitter (“ray messenger”)
skindommerez = radiator (“ray heater”)
skinlun = x-ray (“ray picture”)

The wel part comes from gwel (view, sight, vision), I think, and appears in such words as:

gwelus = visible
gwelet = to see, look

I find it interesting when new words like this are invented for modern inventions, rather than just borrowing international terms like television, telephone and radio. Other examples in Breton include pellgomz = telephone (“far talk”) and urzhiataer = computer (“order-er”). Such words may not be used in everyday speech, but I think it’s nice to know that they exist.

Can you think of examples in other languages?

Harmony magpie

Harmony magpie

I went to a singing workshop in Porthmadog today and there I heard the interesting term harmony magpie, which is used to describe a someone who ends up singing like those around them, even if the others are singing a different part. The workshop leader recommended that any harmony magpies in the group should make sure that they surround themselves with people singing the same part, rather than going next to someone singing a different part, as they would most likely be drawn into the other part.

Afterwards I was thinking about this and thought about the way my speech tends to become like the speech of people I’m talking to, and thought that I might say that I am a bit of an accent/dialect/language/linguist magpie. I think the technical term for this phenomenon is linguistic accommodation. A linguistic magpie might also be used to describe someone who collects lots of bit of different languages, just like magpies reputedly collect shiny things to put in their nests.

Are you a linguistic magpie, or indeed a harmony magpie?

Cellar door words

The term cellar door has, according to J. R. R. Tolkien and a number of other writers, a particularly pleasing sound, even though its meaning isn’t anything special. An article in the New York Times discusses the origins of this idea, an example of phonaesthetics*, and cites a 1903 novel by Cyrus Lauron Hooper, Gee-Boy, as the first mention in writing of the aesthetic properties of cellar door. It is said of the main character in the novel that:

“He even grew to like sounds unassociated with their meaning, and once made a list of the words he loved most, as doubloon, squadron, thatch, fanfare (he never did know the meaning of this one), Sphinx, pimpernel, Caliban, Setebos, Carib, susurro, torquet, Jungfrau. He was laughed at by a friend, but logic was his as well as sentiment; an Italian savant maintained that the most beautiful combination of English sounds was cellar-door; no association of ideas here to help out! sensuous impression merely! the cellar-door is purely American.”

In 1955 J. R. R. Tolkien wrote an essay entitled English and Welsh which has been mentioned as the origin of the idea:

“Most English-speaking people…will admit that cellar door is ‘beautiful’, especially if dissociated from its sense (and from its spelling). More beautiful than, say, sky, and far more beautiful than beautiful. Well then, in Welsh for me cellar doors are extraordinarily frequent, and moving to the higher dimension, the words in which there is pleasure in the contemplation of the association of form and sense are abundant.”

The OED lists a source from 1425, when it was written celer dore, as the earliest use of cellar door in English, though doesn’t mention the phonaesthetics of the term.

* Phonaesthetics is the study of the inherent pleasantness (euphony) or unpleasantness (cacophony) of the sound of certain words, phrases, and sentences. It comes from the Greek: φωνή (phōnē) – voice-sound; and αἰσθητική (aisthētikē) – aesthetics [source].

Cellar door words for me include spollagyn (chips/fries in Manx), schmetterling (butterfly in German) and spontus (terrible, awful in Breton). There are more examples on my favorite words page.

What are you cellar door words?

Torch carrying

The expression to carry a torch for someone came up when I was putting together this week’s mots de la semaine for the French Conversation Group. We talked about my experiences in Shetland, where lots of people were carrying flaming torches, and this got me wondering why you might say that you’re carry a torch for someone.

According to Wiktionary it might date back the the Greek and Roman wedding torch tradition, which involved the bride lighting a torch from her hearth on her wedding night, and taking it to her new home to light the hearth. The torch was associated with Hymen (Ὑμήν) or Hymenaios, the Greek god of wedding ceremonies.

So if you’re carry a torch for someone it means that you’re in love with them or romantically infatuated with them, but your feelings might not be reciprocated.

The French equivalent is en pincer pour qn, and in Welsh it’s caru rhywun (o bell) yn ofer, llosgu dy gariad at rhywun yn fud, or cadwai fflam dy serch at rhywun ynghyn. What about in other languages?

Les mots de la semaine

– une torche flambeau = flaming torch = ffagl = torch flamboz
– une lampe de poche = (pocket) torch = tortsh = kreuzeul
– en pincer pour qn = to carry a torch for sb = caru rhywun (o bell) yn ofer
– au point = in focus = mewn ffocws, yn eglur = en e reizh
– pas au point = out of focus = aneglur, allan ohoni
– mettre au point = to focus = canoli, ffocysu = fokusañ
– agité(e) = rough (sea) = garw, stormus, tymhestlog, tonnog = rust
– négociant, marchand = merchant = masnachwr = marc’hadour
– la télécommande = remote control = teclyn pell-reolaeth = pellurzhier
– le cireur de chaussures = shoeshiner = glanhäwr esgidiau
– mendiant = beggar = cardotyn, cardotwr = klasker
– s’entendre avec qn = to get on with sb = cyd-dynnu’n dda gyda rhywun = en em glevet
– le respect de soi, l’amour-propre (m) = self-esteem = hunan-barch, hunan-dyb = karantez an-unan

Standard v non-standard English

According to reports on the BBC, a primary school in Middlesbrough has sent out a letter to parents asking them to stop their children from using certain ‘non-standard’ phrases and pronunciation.

Here are some examples:
– It’s nowt – it’s nothing
– Gizit ere – please give me it
– Yous – the word you is never a plural
– I seen that – I have seen that or I saw that
– I done that – I have done that or I did that

According to the headteacher of the school:

“We would like to equip our children to go into the world of work and not be disadvantaged. We need the children to know there is a difference between dialect, accent and standard English. The literacy framework asks children to write in standard English. I am not asking the children to change their dialect or accent but I don’t want them to enter the world of work without knowing about standard English.”

The headteacher says that she isn’t asking the kids to change the way they speak, but at the same time she is asking their parents to ‘correct’ the kids non-standard phrases and pronunciation – a bit of a mixed message.

In another report on this story, the headteacher is quoted as saying:

“I don’t want the children to be disadvantaged. Using standard English in applications and job interviews is important. You don’t want the children to lose their identity, but you do want them to be able to communicate properly with people and be understood. We are going to teach them the rules. If they decide not to use these rules with friends that is fine, but I want them to know that when they are filling in application forms and speaking in a formal situation they should use standard English.”

She also mentions that there has been a decline in spelling and grammar, with children reading less for pleasure.

Perhaps if the children were taught to read and write both in standard in English and in their local dialect, they would read more.

There’s some interesting discussion in and about Middlesbrough dialect on the the BBC Voices site.

Have you been corrected for using ‘non-standard’ forms of speech at school or elsewhere?

Bangor Polyglots

Last night the Bangor Polyglot conversation group met for the first time. I’ve been wanting to set up a group like this for a while as a way to practice my languages and to meet other polyglots. Last month it finally started to come together: first I found a suitable place and time for it to take place – I chose the Ship Launch Inn near Bangor pier because it’s quiet on a Monday night, the only night I have free at the moment. Then I posted about the group on the Bangor couchsurfing group, and set up a Facebook group.

I wasn’t sure if anyone would be interested or would turn up, but was reassured when a number of people have joined the Facebook group and/or have expressed an interest on the Couchsurfing group. In the end two others came last night – a Welsh lass who speaks Welsh and is learning Cornish; and a Cornish lad who speaks German, and is learning Cornish, Welsh, Dutch and Finnish. They are both interested in language and languages in general, and in conlangs, and are frequent visitors to Omniglot – surprisingly, even though over 50,000 people a day visit Omniglot, I rarely meet people who know the site well. We talked mainly in English and Welsh, with a bits of German, Dutch, Breton, French, Irish, Finnish, Japanese in the mix.

Have you taken part in any similar groups?

The combed giraffe sings like a saucepan

I came across a number of interesting French idioms today in this article in The Guardian, including peigner la giraffe (combing the giraffe), which means to waste time on a pointless task, and chanter comme une casserole (to sing like a saucepan) or to sing terribly. It also mentions a Dutch idiom, broodje aap verhaal (monkey sandwich story), which refers to persistent rumours or urban legends.

English equivalents of peigner la giraffe include idling, dossing (about), doing nothing (much), killing time, and so on. Do you have any others?

How about English or other language equivalents of chanter comme une casserole or broodje aap verhaal?

Fantastic octopus wiring!

The title of this post is an example of the English sentence that appear on tweets by a certain Mr Nakayama, who aims to introduce Japanese people to “Non-essential English Vocabulary: Words that will never come up in tests”. He makes up these useless but memorable phrases as an alternative to all the books and websites that help people prepare for tests, and they are proving popular with English learners in Japan. Nakayama san has also published a books of these phrases.

More examples include, “My brother has been observing the slugs since he got divorced.” and “What nice barbed wire. Thank you, I knitted it myself”, “The mayor got a lot of shampoo hats by dishonest means.”

The writer of the article where I found this suggests that this might be a good way to learn vocabulary in any language as the bizarreness of the sentences makes them relatively easy to remember. Quite a few of them feature somewhat crude language, though that probably makes them memorable as well.

Les mots de la semaine

– la caisse (enregistreuse), le tiroir caisse = till / cash register = cofrestr arian = kefierez
– la caisse automatique = self-service till / self checkout = cofrestr arian awtomatig = kefierez emgefre
– casissier = checkout assistant = gweithiwr cofrestr arian
– vendeur (-euse) = shop assistant = gweithiwr siop = gwerzher
– l’hydromel (m) = mead = medd = chouchenn, dour-mel
– affolé = panic-stricken = llawn braw, rhuslyd, gwyllt
– affolant = disturbing = cynhyrfus, annifyr, cythryblus = da bennfollañ, braouac’hus
– affoler = to terrify = dychryn, brawychu, arswydo
– s’affoler = to (get into a) panic = cynhurfu, rhusio, dychryn = pennfollañ
– ne t’affole pas! = don’t panic = paid â chynhyrfu!