Category: Words and phrases

A foreboding sky

By Simon

Last night when I went out the sky was dark with very low clouds, and I expected it to rain at any moment. It did start raining while I was outside, but fortunately I was inside by the time the heavy rain arrived. I said to a friend that the sky had looked decidedly foreboding. He agreed, and we wondered how you would say this in the past tense if you use forebode as a verb – e.g. the sky foreboded/forebod/forebad/forebid rain. It’s not a word I use every day so I wasn’t sure. Now I know that it’s foreboded.

To forebode means to warn of or indicate (an event, result, etc.) in advance; to have an intuition or premonition of (an event) [source]. Fore comes from the Old English prefix fore- (before), from the Proto-Indo-European root *per- (forward, through), and bode from the Old English word bodian from boda (messenger) [source].

Fore comes from the same root as the Latin words pro (before, for, on behalf of), prae (before) and per (through, for) [source], and related words in other languages.

I like the word bode – you could say that something bodes without specifying whether it bodes well or ill, it just bodes.

Omphaloskepsis

By Simon

Omphaloskepsis /ˈɒmfələʊˈskɛpsɪs/ is an interesting word I came across today that refers to the practice of contemplating one’s navel as an aid to meditation. It comes from the Ancient Greek ὀμϕαλός (omphalos – navel) and σκέψις (skepsis -inquiry).

Apparently omphaloskepsis is used in yoga and sometimes in the Eastern Orthodox Church and it helps in the contemplation of the basic principles of the cosmos and of human nature, and naval is consider by some to be a ‘powerful chakra’.

Omphaloskepsis is also another word for contemplating one’s navel or navel-gazing, i.e. being self-absorbed.

The French equivalent of omphaloskepsis is nombrilisme, from nombril (navel) plus -isme (-ism), and the Welsh equivalent is bogailsyllu, from bogail (navel) and syllu (to gaze, look). A French idiom the revolves around the navel is penser qu’on est le nombril du monde (‘to think that one is the navel of the world’) or to think the world revolves around you. Are there similar phrases in other languages?

On another topic, have you ever heard or used the phrase “who’s she, the cat’s mother?”.

It is, or was, used to point out that referring to a woman in the third person in her presence is/was considered rude by some. It apparently was first noted in the OED in the late 19th century.

Deps and Depping

By Simon

When I was in London this weekend I heard the word dep being used by a singer who was standing in for another in a singing group. I hadn’t come across this word before and assumed it was an abbreviation of deputy.

According to this article, that’s exactly what it is – “in the music biz it means a stand-in, a musician who takes the place of a regular band member – usually when they’ve fallen ill … or more likely got a better paid gig on.”

Have you come across this usage?

Bead houses

By Simon

There’s a village near where I live called Betws-y-Coed [ˈbɛtʊs ə ˈkɔɨd], which means ‘prayer house in the wood’. I knew the meaning of the name, but hadn’t considered where the word betws might come from. Last night a friend told me that it comes from an English word ‘bead house’, meaning a prayer house or oratory.

Wikipedia agress with this saying the word Betws or Bettws comes from the Old English bed-hus (house of prayer, oratory). The name was first recorded as ‘Betus’ in 1254.

According to this Old English Dictionary the Old English word bed means ‘prayer, supplication; religious ordinance, service’, hús means ‘house; temple, tabernacle; dwelling-place; inn; household; family, race’, and gebédhús is a house of prayer or oratory.

Apparently the Welsh words bacws (bakery) and warws (warehouse) contain the same hús root. I can’t find confirmation of this, but it sounds plausible. I guessed that these words came from English, but hadn’t made the connection with Betws before.

They must have been borrowed before the Great Vowel Shift which started during the 14th century. Before then house or hús was pronounced /hu:s/, as it still is in northern English and Scots. The /haus/ pronunciation emerged during the 18th century.

My huckleberry friend

By Simon

Photo of huckleberries

The phrase, my huckleberry friend, appears in one of the songs I’m learning at moment – Moon River. At a choir rehearsal last night one of the sopranos said that the word huckleberry means ‘a person who is right for a job’. I’d come across the word before but had never thought what it might mean.

According to World Wide Words the phrase ‘I’m your huckleberry’ means that you are “just the right person for a given job, or a willing executor of some commission.”

Huckleberries are small, dark, sweet berries of plants in the family Ericaceae, in two closely related genera: Vaccinium and Gaylussacia [source]. They were originally called hurtleberries, a dialect word for bilberry, which they resembled, by settlers in the Americas, and this word later became huckleberry. By the early 19th century the word huckleberry was associated with things humble and minor, and tiny amounts. This association was used by Mark Twain for his character Huckleberry Finn – a boy “of lower extraction or degree” than Tom Sawyer.

In the 1830s people started to metaphorically compare huckleberries and persimmons, which are much larger, to describe things that are somewhat beyond one’s reach or abilities. Somehow the word huckleberry also became associated with helpers and assistants, and also with insignificant and nice people.

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word huckleberry is probably an alteration of the Middle English hurtilbery (whortleberry), from the Old English horte (whortleberry). The OED says that whortleberry (/ˈhwɜːt(ə)lbɛrɪ/) is a South-western (England) dialect form of hurtleberry, which is derived from the word hurt (bilberry), which possibly comes from the French heraldic term heurt(e) (small Azure balls) or from the French word heurt (mark left by a blow).

Cuddies

By Simon

An interesting Scots word I came across this week was cuddy which means coalfish or donkey and featured in the English translation of a Gaelic song. From the context I knew it was some kind of creature, but which one I wasn’t sure.

According to the Scots Language Centre website cuddy is a Scots word meaning donkey, a foolish person, a saw horse or a vaulting horse. A Scotch cuddy is a pedlar.

Another word that came up that was new to me was gaberlunzie /ɡæbərˈlʌnji/, an old Scots word for a licensed beggar who would seek fees to pray for the souls of other people [source].

Have you come across these words before?

Spòg

By Simon

I came across the Scottish Gaelic word spòg (foot) in a song I learnt today and it caught my attention because I heard it a couple of weeks ago when I was in Ireland being used to mean foot in English. I thought it might be a Irish word, but didn’t get round to checking.

In Scottish Gaelic spòg /sbɔːg/ means claw, talon, hand, radius, spoke, paw or leg. It is also used for the hands of a clock: spòg an uaireadair.

I can’t find spog in any of the Irish dictionaries I’ve checked, so maybe it’s a word used in Hiberno-English, but which is no longer used in Irish. The usual word for foot in Irish is cos, which also means leg.

Have any of you come across the word spog before?

Menhirs, dolmens and cromlechs

By Simon

A menhir from Brittany and a cromleac from Ireland

The word menhir come up in discussion yesterday and I posted it on Facebook today along with the the Welsh translation maen hir, which is what I found in this dictionary. This provoked further discussion about whether the two terms mean the same thing. So I thought I’d find out.

A menhir is a standing stone of the kind that Obelix delivers in the Asterix books. According to the Dictionary of Word Origins and the OED, menhir comes from Breton mean-hir (long stone), which is what the Welsh term maen hir means, so it seems that they are the same. The usual Breton word for such standing stones is peulvan, however.

The word dolmen (a prehistoric structure of two or more upright stones surmounted by a horizontal one), comes via French from Breton: the men part means stone, and the dol part either comes from the Breton word tōl (table), a borrowing from the Latin tabula (board, plank), or from the Cornish tol (hole). So dolmen either means ‘stone table’ or ‘stone hole’.

The word dolmen also exists in Welsh, and another word for such structures is cromlech, which exists in Welsh and English and comes from the Welsh words crwm (bent, stooped) and llech (stone), and is related to the Irish word cromleac (‘bent stone’).

Cars, carts and chariots

By Simon

Last week I was told that the English word car originally comes from the Irish word carr (donkey cart). Apparently when cars came to Ireland Irish speakers thought it was better to come up with a new word for them than to name them after the humble donkey cart, so the term gluaisteán (‘moving thing’) was coined. I hadn’t heard about this before so thought I’d check it.

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary the English word car has been used to refer to a wheeled vehicle since 1300 and comes from the Old Northern French word carre, from the Latin carrum/carrus, which originally referred to a two-wheeled Celtic war chariot, from the Gaulish word karros, from the Proto-Indo-European word *krsos, from the root *kers- (to run).

There are related words in Welsh carr (cart, wagon), and in Breton: karr (chariot, cart), in Cornish: karr (car), in Manx: carr (car), in Spanish and Italian: carro (cart, wagon) and probably in other languages.

The word chariot comes from the same root as car, but cart probably comes from the Old Norse word kart-r (cart), according to the OED.

Another vehicle-related word we discussed last week is carbad (chariot), from the Old Irish carpat (war-chariot, waggon). It is related to the Welsh cerbyd (vehicle, car, carriage, coach), the Old Breton cerpit, the Gaulish carpentoracte, from the Latin corbis (basket), from carpentum (two wheeled chariot), which was probably borrowed from Gaulish. The root idea is ‘wicker’, referring to the basket character of the body of these chariots.

Deiseal agus tuathal

By Simon

Yesterday we discussed the Irish words deiseal (/ˈdʲɛʃəl/) and tuathal (/’tuəhəl/) in class. Deiseal means clockwise, dextral, right-hand, rightward, starboard, and tuathal means the opposite: anticlockwise, sinistral left-hand, leftward, port.

Some examples of usage:
– bogadh ar deiseal = to go in a clockwise direction
– dul deiseal = to go in a rightward direction
– fad is a bheas grian ag dul deiseal = whilst the sun follows its course
– ag bogadh ar tuathal = going in an anticlockwise direction
– cúl tuathail = own goal

They are related to the course of the sun, and date back to a time when the sun was thought to move around the earth from east to west. The course of the sun was considered the correct, right and good direction or deiseal, while the opposite direction tuathal was considered the wrong and bad direction. Buildings were built facing towards the rising sun, and adhering to these directions was thought to bring luck and prosperity.

The word deasil also exists in English, though isn’t commonly used. The opposite is widdershins or withershins.

Deiseal comes from the Old Irish word dessel, which means ‘direction of the sun, right-hand course, and comes from dess (right) and sel (turn).

Tuathal comes from the Old Irish word túaithbel, which means ‘a turning lefthandwise, against the sun, withershins’ and is a combination of túath (northern; left, on the left; perverse, wicked, evil) and sel (turn).

Source: Early Irish History and Mythology, T. F. O’Rahilly, via Wiktionary, and eDIL.

Do other languages have words for directions with similar roots?