Hatlings, benders and beer tokens

In one of the songs we sang at the Welsh session last night, there’s an interesting word – hatling, which means ‘mite, half-farthing; modest contribution, all that a poor person can afford’.

It’s a word I haven’t come across before, but from the context I guessed it was term of affection. This is how it’s used:

Fy hatling offrymaf dros enaid dan glo,
Fy nghanwyll offrymaf yn eglwys y fro,
’R offeren weddïaf saith seithwaith yn daer
Er cadw ei enaid anfarwol.
Myn Mair, Myn Mair

Which means:

My penn’orth I’ll offer for a soul in prison,
My candle I’ll offer in the church in the vale,
The Mass I’ll pray earnestly, seven times seven,
To save his immortal soul.
O Mary, O Mary.

You can hear the whole song here:

So it seems it doesn’t mean what I thought. I can’t find any information about its origin, but my guess is that it’s a perhaps a nickname for a half-farthing. This is a coin that was first minted in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) in 1828, and used in the UK from 1842. It was worth an eighth of a penny.

Some other nicknames and abbreviations for British coins include:

Bender = a sixpence, known as such because it could be bent, due to its silver content. A one time you could get very drunk for a sixpence, which is the origin of the phrase ‘to go on a bender’.

Bob = a shilling. Possibly related to bell ringing, as a bob can also be a tune played on church bells.

Tanner = a sixpence. Possibly from the Romani word tawno (small one).

Groat = four pence (fuppence). From the Dutch word groot (great).

Ha’penny = half penny

Tuppence = two pence

Thruppence or Thruppenny bit = three pence

Quid = £1

Beer token = £2 (a pint of beer cost about £2 when this coin was introduced in 1998).

Only the £1 and £2 coins are still used.

Do you know of any other interesting nicknames for coins or bank notes?

Sources: Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru – A Dictionary of the Welsh Language, Ireland, Wales and Europe – Poems, History and Language, Royal Mint

Sitting in a session

If someone said to you, “It was a good session last night”, what would you understand by that?

In my world a session involves people gathering together, usually in a pub, to play folk music, sing, and sometimes to dance and/or tell stories.

Other kinds of sessions are available: jam sessions, parliamentary sessions, training sessions, drinking sessions, recording sessions, and so on.

The word session comes from the Old French session (sitting; session [of a court or committee]), from the Latin sessiō (a sitting), from sedeō (sit), from the Proto-Italic *sedēō (sit, be sitting, be seated), from the Proto-Indo-European *sed- (to sit), which is also the root of the English word saddle [source].

I go to several folk music sessions a week, and usually play the mandolin, and occasionally the whistle, bodhrán or cavaquinho. I also go to a ukulele session. In some sessions we play Irish or Welsh music, in others we play music and sing songs from many countries. We also play tunes we have written ourselves, including some of my own tunes.

I’ve learnt many tunes from these sessions. Some I can pick up by ear after hearing them a few times, others I record and learn at home. I find it easier to learn a tune if I’ve heard it many times, though some are harder to learn than others as they are in unusual keys, and/or don’t go where you expect.

Similarly, when learning new words in foreign tongues, the ones that are easiest to learn are the ones that sound familar. Maybe I’ve heard them many times, and/or they’re similar to words I already know. Words that contain unfamiliar sounds and combinations of sounds take more learning, just as tunes in unfamiliar keys and/or containing unusual combinations of notes can take longer to learn.

Sometimes the versions of tunes I know are a bit different to the ones known by my fellow musicians. This is a bit like hearing a language spoken with a different accent, or in a different dialect – it may seem strange at first, but you get used to it the more you hear it.

Last night I went to a Welsh music session in the Globe Inn (Tafarn y Glôb) in Bangor. Here’s one of the tunes that was played (Y Derwydd – The Druid):

Gloopy!

An interesting Russian word I learnt this week is глупый (glupyj) [ˈɡlupɨj], which means silly, stupid, foolish or inane, but sounds like one of the seven dwarfs.

The Russian name for the dwarf dopey is actually Простак (Prostak), which means simpleton.

Глупый comes from the Proto-Slavic *glupъ (stupid, foolish), which possibly comes from a Germanic source. Cognates in Germanic languages include glópr (idiot) in Old Norse, and glópur (fool, idiot) in Icelandic.

Cognates in Slavic languages include:

– Bulgarian глупав (glupav) = stupid, silly, foolish, fool, unwise, sappy
– Croatian glup = stupid, dumb, silly, dull, brainless, dense
– Serbian глуп = stupid, dumb, silly, dull, dense, obtuse
– Slovene glúp = dumb, stupid, moronic
– Slovak hlúpy = stupid, silly, foolish
– Czech hloupý = stupid, silly, foolish

A related word in Russian is тупой (typoj) [tʊˈpoj], which means ‘dull, blunt; obtuse; dull, stupid’. It comes from the Old East Slavic тупъ (tupŭ), from Proto-Slavic *tǫpъ, and sounds like the Welsh word twp [tʊp], which means stupid. Is there any connection?

The word stupid comes from the Middle French stupide (stupid), from the Latin stupidus (struck senseless, amazed), from stupeō (to be amazed or confounded, to be struck senseless), from the Proto-Indo-European *(s)tup- / *(s)tewp- (to wonder), from *(s)tu- (to stand, stay).

I thought I’d made up the word gloopy, but it does exist, and means ‘Having a glutinous, sloppy consistency’.

The Friday of Stupid Spending

Today is apparently Black Friday, a custom that originates in the USA and which has been adopted in the UK. It falls the day after Thanksgiving, which hasn’t been adopted in the UK, and many shops and online retailers offer special deals at this time.

I don’t have any deals for you, as I don’t sell anything, but what I can offer you is the Welsh term for Black Friday – Dydd Gwener y Gwario Gwirion, or “the Friday of Stupid Spending”, which seems to sum it up nicely. Mwy o wybodaeth.

November is also known to some as Movember, the month when some men grow moustaches and rise money for charities related to men’s health. The word was first used in Adelaide in Australia back in 1999, when a group of blokes grew moustaches during November and raised money for an animal charity. Another group of men did something similar in Melbourne in 2004, and later set up the Movember Foundation charity.

The Welsh version of Movember is Tashwedd, which combines mwstash (moustache) and Tachwedd (November).

Moustache comes from the French moustache from the Italian mostaccio, from Ancient Greek μουστάκιον (moustákion), a diminutive of the Ancient Greek μύσταξ (mústax – upper lip), from the Proto-Indo-European *mendʰ- (to chew).

There was another word for moustache in English: kemp, from the Old English cenep (moustache), from Proto-Germanic *kanipaz (mustache, beard), from the Proto-Indo-European *ǵenu- (jaw) [source].

Diolch i Meinir a Josef am y geiriau

Self-habituation and practise

Last night a friend excitedly pointed out that the Welsh word ymarfer (to exercise, practice; rehearsal; habit, custom; use) is made up of ym (self) and arfer (to use, employ; usage, practice, habit, custom, tradition, fashion, mode, manner).

So it could be literally translated as “habituating oneself” or “self-habituation”.

This may seem obvious when you think about it, but neither my friend nor I had noticed this before.

Related words include:

– ymarfer corff = physical education, training or exercise
– ymarfer dysgu = teaching practice, teacher-training
– ymarferol = practical
– ymarferoldeb = practicality; feasibility
– ymarferiad = exercise, practice, rehearsal; performance, action; use, habit, custom; conduct
– ymarferle = gymnasium
– ymarferwr = trainer, practioner

Sources: Wiktionary, Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru

Ladders and Schools

Ysgol ac ysgol - a school and a ladder

How are ladders and schools connected?

Well, in Welsh there is one word that means both ladder and school: ysgol [ˈəsgɔl].

The word ysgol, meaning ladder, comes from the Middle Welsh yscawl [ˈәsgaul] (ladder), from Latin scāla (ladder, stairs), from scandō (I climb, ascend, mount), from the the Proto-Indo-European *skend- (to jump).

Related words include:

– ysgol do/grib = roof-ladder
– ysgol raff = rope ladder
– ysgol ffenestr = window ladder
– ysgol bysgod = fish-ladder

The word ysgol, meaning school, comes from the Middle Welsh yscol (school), from the Latin schola (leisure time given to learning; schooltime; a school; a student body; an art gallery), from the Ancient Greek σχολή (skholḗ – leisure, free time, rest; lecture, disputation, discussion; philosophy; school, lecture hall).

Related words include:

– ysgol fabanod = nursery school
– ysgol feithrin = infant school
– ysgol gynradd/elfennol/fach = primary/elementary school
– ysgol uwchradd = secondary school
– ysgol gyfun = comprehensive school
– ysgol breswyl = boarding school
– ysgol hwyrol = night school
– ysgol Sul = Sunday school
– ysgol farddol = bardic school
– ysgol brofiad/profiad = school of life
– prifysgol = university, college, academy, seminary

A similar-sounding, though unrelated word is (y)sgôl [ˈəsgoːl] (squall; disaster, damage; disturbance, commotion, quarrel).

Sources: Wiktionary, Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru, Old and Middle Welsh

Diolch i Diana i awgrymu’r pwnc ‘ma.

Heim aftur / Home again

The Polyglot Conference is over now for another year, and I arrived back to Bangor yesterday. Although the conference only lasted two days, a lot was packed into that time.

On the Friday I went on a Golden Circle tour with two coach loads of other polyglots. Unfortunately it was a wet, cloudy and cold day, so the views were not great, but the landscape we could see was rather fine.

The first stop was Þingvellir (Thingvellir), a World Heritage Site where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet. It is also where the Iceland parliament (Alþingi) met from AD 930 until 1798.

Þingvellir / Thingvellir

Next we went to Geysir, and area of volcanic activity with a number of sprouting hot springs, including the famous Great Geysir, which is currently inactive, and Stokkur, which erupts every few minutes (see photo below). We also had lunch here – there are a number of eating places and souvenir shops in the complex near the hot springs. I was expecting the whole place to stink of sulphur, but it didn’t really.

Þingvellir / Thingvellir

Our final stop was Gullfoss (“Golden Falls”), waterfalls in the canyon of Ölfusá river. They were spectacular, and well worth seeing.

Gullfoss

In the evening, after we arrived back in Reykajvik, I went for dinner at an Indian restaurant with a few other polyglots.

The conference started on Saturday morning with interesting speeches by Dr Sebastian Drude, the director of the Vigdís International Centre for Multilingualism and Intercultural Understanding, and Vigdís Finnbogadóttir, the former President of Iceland and UNESCO Goodwill Ambassador for languages.

Vigdís Finnbogadóttir opening the 2017 Polyglot Conference in Reykjavik

Then there were talks on a variety of topics, with themes including Icelandic language and culture, bilingualism and autism, and maintaining ‘small’ languages. Some of the speakers were lecturers or researchers in universities, others were language enthusiasts. The talks I found most interesting were the one by Daniel Tammet and Sigriður Kristinsdóttir about how he learnt Icelandic in a week with her help; one about bilingualism and autism, one about the cognitive effects of language learning, and one about Mongolian.

The 2017 Polyglot Conference in Reykjavik

There was plenty of time between the talks and at lunch to catch up with old friends, meet new ones and practise languages. During my time in Iceland, I had conversations in English, Welsh, French, German, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Mandarin, Japanese and Irish, and spoke bits of Czech, Scottish Gaelic, Breton, Manx, Swedish and Icelandic.

Lunch was provided – small sandwiches and wraps, though didn’t appeal to me, so I bought something else in a supermarket.

A panel discussuion at the 2017 Polyglot Conference in Reykjavik

There weren’t any organised activities in the evenings, as there are at the Polyglot Gatherings. Instead babbles of polyglots went off to do their own thing. I went for dinner with some polyglot friends and had very interesting discussions about all sorts of things, not all of which were related to languages – we do have other interests.

The annoucement of where the Polyglot Conference will be in 2018

The next Polyglot Conference will be in Ljubljana in Slovenia from 5-7 October 2018 (as you might have guessed from this photo). So next year I will learn some Slovenian before the conference in Ljubljana, and some Slovak before the Polyglot Gathering in Bratislava in Slovakia.

On Monday I did some work on Omniglot in the morning, explored Reykjavik a bit, had lunch in a restaurant in the old harbour area of Reykjavik, did some more work, then explored a bit more with the two Russian teachers who were staying in the same place as me.

Iceland is a very expensive place, which I expected. Meals in restaurants cost at least twice as much as in the UK, as do most other things. It wasn’t as cold as I expected – about 7-10°C during the day and 2-5°C at night. All the locals I met speak very good English, but if you speak Icelandic, they’re happy to speak it with you. There are apparently quite a few people who have moved to Iceland recently for work, most don’t speak Icelandic. On a clear, dry day, the scenery is spectacular. Even on grey, wet days, it’s still impressive and dramatic.

There are some more photos on Flickr:

Iceland / Ísland

Café Lingua – lifandi tungumál

Yesterday evening I went to Café Lingua – lifandi tungumál at the University of Iceland / Háskóli Íslands. It’s a regular meet-up for language enthusiasts, and last night there were a lot of extra people there who are in Reykjavik for the Polyglot Conference. It was great to see lots of familiar faces, and to meet new people.

I had conversations in English, Welsh, Irish and Mandarin, and spoke odd bits of Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, Swedish, Icelandic, Czech, Russian, Finnish and French. Other languages were available.

Today I’m going on a Golden Circle tour with other Polyglot Conference participants.

Star sailors and children of the sky

A sailing ship in space

Did you know that the word astronaut means “star sailor”?

This is something I learnt from an interesting Allusionist podcast on Technobabble.

Astronaut comes from the Ancient Greek ἄστρον (ástron – star) and ναύτης (naútēs – sailor). It first appeared as the name of a space craft in Across the Zodiac, a story written by Percy Greg in the 1880. It was used in the 1920s in writing about the possiblity of space travel, and in the U.S. space program from the 1960s [source].

Some other space-related words have a nautical roots as well, including (space)ship, mast, batton and sail.

Other words for star sailors include:

cosmonaut, from the Russian космона́вт (kosmonávt), from the Ancient Greek κόσμος (kósmos – universe) &+ -naut [source]
taikonaut, from the Chinese 太空 (tàikōng – space) +‎ -naut [source]
spationaut, from spatio (space) + -naut [source]

Many other languages use one or other of these words. Here are some exceptions:

– In Chinese an astronaut is either 太空人 (tài​kōng​rén – “space person”), 航天員 (háng​tiān​yuán – “boat sky personnel”), or 宇航员 [宇航員] (yǔhángyuán – “universe boat personnel”) [source].

– In Icelandic an astronaut is a geimfari, from geimur (space) + -fari (traveler) [source].

– In Welsh an astronaut is a gofodwr, from gofod (space) + gŵr (man).

– In Swahili an astronaut is a mwanaanga, from mwana (child) +‎ anga (sky) [source]

Are there interesting words for astronauts in other languages?

Les mots de le semaine

français English Cymraeg
Les couennes de porc frite pork scratchings
la couenne rind crofen; crawen; crafen
la peau hide (skin) croen
le cuir hide (leather) lledr; croen
seul à seul; face à face one-to-one un i un
gazouiller; grisoller; roucouler to warble telori; trydar
fauvette warbler telor
pour l’amour de Dieu for heaven’s sake neno’r nefoedd; er mwyn y nefoedd
l’inhalateur (m) inhaler ymanadlwr; pwmp
inouï unprecedented; incredible; tremendous diesiampl; digyffelyb; anhygoel; anghredadwy
c’est inouï that’s unheard of mae hynny’n anhygoel