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’.

Portugal oranges and Chinese apples

An orange

In Romanian the word for orange (the fruit) is portocală [portoˈkalə]. This comes from the Greek πορτοκάλι (portokáli – orange), from the Venetian portogallo (orange), from the Italian Portogallo (Portugal).

An number of other languages get their word for orange from the same root:

– Albanian: portokall
– Amharic: ብርቱካናማ (biritukanama)
– Arabic: برتقال (burtuqaal)
– Azerbaijani: portağal
– Bulgarian: портокал (portokal)
– Georgian: ფორთოხალი (p’ort’okhali)
– Macedonian: портокал (portokal)
– Persian (Farsi): پرتقال (porteghâl)
– Turkish: portakal

Portuguese merchants were probably the first to introduce oranges to Europe, hence the link between oranges and Portugal.

In some languages oranges are known as “Chinese apples”: Apfelsine (German), appelsien / sinaasappel (Dutch), apelsin (Swedish), etc. This makes sense as oranges were first cultivated in China in about 2,500 BC.

Words for oranges in some Slavic languages come from the Old French pomme d’orenge: pomeranč (Czech), pomaranča (Slovene), pomarańcza (Polish).

The word orange derives from नारङ्ग (nāraṅga) – “orange tree” in Sanskrit, which is probably of Dravidian origin. The word for orange in Portuguese, laranja, comes from this root.

The colour orange was named after the fruit. In Old English the colour orange was referred to as ġeolurēad (yellow-red), or ġeolucrog (yellow-saffron) [source].

Souces: Wiktionary, WordReference.com, Google Translate, Wikipedia, Flickr

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

Les mots de la semaine

français English Cymraeg
indépendant; travail à son propre compte self-employed hunangyflogedig
le glissement de terrain landslide tirlithriad, tirgwymp, cwymp
obtenir un raz-de-marée en sa faveur to win by a landslide ennill yn ysgubol
risqué dodgy (risky, dangerous) amheus, perig, peryglus, pethma
nourrir à la cuillère;
mâcher le travail à qqn
to spoonfeed rhoi bwyd llwy; bwydo â llaw
l’abat-jour (m) lampshade lamplen, cysgodlen, mantell
l’abat-vent lean-to; windbreak; chimney cap; cowl cysgod rhag gwynt, atalfa wynt
parer à toute éventualité to be ready for every eventuality barod am bopeth
porte coupe-feu; porte pare-feu fire door drws tân
détrempé soggy (ground) corslyd, dyfrllyd, soeglyd
trempé soggy (clothes) corslyd, dyfrllyd, soeglyd
mou soggy (food) soeg, soeglyd, toeslyd
mouillé jusqu’aux os soaked to the skin gwlyb diferol, gwlyb at y croen

Funambulists

I discovered an interesting word the other day funambulist [fjuːˈnæmbjʊlɪst], which is someone who funambulates, or performs funambulism on a tightrope or slack rope. Or in other words, a tightrope walker.

Slacklining in the park

It comes from the Latin fūnambulus (tightrope walker), from funis (rope) and ambulare (walk), either directly, or via the French funambule (tightrope walker).

Other words from the same ambulatory root include:

– to amble = an unhurried leisurely walk or stroll; an easy gait
– to ambulate = to walk
– ambulant = able to walk; walking, strolling
– ambulation = walking around
– ambulator = a walker, one who walks
– ambulophobia = a morbid fear of walking
– ambulomancy = a form of divination involving walking, usually in circles
– noctambulo = a noctambulist; a sleepwalker
– somnambulism = sleepwalking
– perambulate = to walk through; to inspect (an area) on foot
– ambulance

In French a tightrope is une corde raide, to walk a tightrope is marcher sur la corde raide, and a tightrope walker or funambulist is funambule, danseur de corde, équilibriste or fil-de-fériste.

Are there interesting words for tightrope walking in any other languages?

Have any of you ever tried tightrope, slack rope of slackline walking?

Sources: Wiktionary, Reverso Dictionary, The Free Dictionary

Parasols, umbrellas and gobos

A parasol

At the French conversation group last night, one of the words that came up was parasol, which is used in English and French to refer to a small umbrella used as protection from the sun.

Parasol comes from the Italian parasole (parasol, sunshade), from para- (to shield) and sole (sun) [source].

Related words include:

– parapluie = umbrella
– para-soleil = sun visor, sunshade
– pare-son = gobo – a device placed around a microphone to shield undesirable sounds

The French word parer (to ward off; to protect; to adorn; to parry) seems to be related as well.

The word gobo is one I haven’t come across before. It is defined by Wiktionary as:

“a disc placed between a light and the illuminated object or actor in order to diffuse the glare; a template inserted over a light source in order to control the shape of the thrown light; a device used to shield a microphone from extraneous sounds.”

Gobo may be an abbreviation of go between, goes before optics,or graphical optical black out [source].

Other names for devices attached to microphones to shield unwanted sounds include pop filter, condenser windscreen, windscreen pop filter, windjammer, microphone cover, microphone wind shield, microphone windscreen muff, and acoustic screen [source]. Some may be brand names.

Have you heard of gobos? Do you have other names for them?