Showing posts with label Ulster-Scots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ulster-Scots. Show all posts

Sunday, January 14, 2024

An seid prátaí

I was making soup and needed a large onion so, outside to find Bert who is clearing the middle bay of the polytunnel. He is going to make an obstacle course for Cleo. It was Hannah's idea, a way to burn off some of the pup's excess energy and take her mind off the Kong.

Where are the onions?

Scratches head. Thinks. Says,

Big ones or wee ones?

Big ones.

They're in the pruta shed.

Pruta shed? Which one is that?

You know! The pruta shed. 

Never once in my life have I ever heard you calling any of the sheds a pruta shed.

It's always been called the pruta shed. Ask Clint.

I'm sure Clint would be too embarrassed to call a shed for something it hasn't had in for forty years. Now which one is it again? Give me a clue. What do you keep in it?

Onions.

What else?

Tools, kindlers, stuff!

Oh - you mean the workshop. Righto.

The naming of places has always been an issue with Bert and I have blogged about it before. And as I'd told him the pruta shed was a new one on me I thought I'd refer back to this post.

It seems that back then he called it the potato shed, and that's another thing, as Bert gets older he uses much more Ulster-Scots dialect. I have been known to accuse him of making words up and he'll say,

Get the book* out!

The book always proves him correct.  



*The Concise Ulster Dictionary was a gift from Ganching 28 years ago. She paid £9.99 for it. Today you'd be lucky to pick up a second-hand copy for under £100. I'll not be selling mine. Far too useful.

Those of you that have Irish will see that most of Ulster's old words for the spud are derived from our native tongue. I wish I had more of it myself so that I could take my turn at confusing Bert.

Friday, January 06, 2023

Cattered

Our recent bout of Covid was a lot harder on Bert, most likely because he had not availed himself of a booster jab. While I got over the worst of it in a couple of days he spent three days in bed with a fever and, when he eventually made it downstairs he was weak as a kitten and a pathetic-looking sight.  

Actually, I don't know why people say 'as weak as a kitten' for if Pippin is anything to go by, kittens are as tough as old boots. Anyway, Bert was most intrigued to hear that he was looking peely-wally* as he enjoys any kind of attention and off he went to check himself out in the mirror.

Aye, he remarked 

I am looking a bit cattered.

I say,

Cattered! What do you mean? I've never heard you say that before.

I say it all the time. 

You do not! That's not even a word. You're making that up.

It is definitely a word.

I don't believe you.

Where's the book?

Where it always is.

He fetches it and lo and behold **cattered really is an Ulster-Scots word.

The book was a present from my sister 26 years ago and it is much used in this house. 




*Peely-wally adjective pale and sickly-looking. [Scots, origin unknown.] Concise Ulster Dictionary, p 249

**Cattered  adjective unhealthy-looking[Cf Scots cuiter "to pamper because of ill-health".] Concise Ulster Dictionary, p 57



Wednesday, March 03, 2021

The Hamely Tongue

 

 The 2021 Census wants to know if I understand Ulster-Scots. Of course I do! Do I speak it? Sometimes. Read it? Definitely. Write it? The odd word here and there.


So, me being fluent and all in the Hamely Tongue I was rather put out to read that the crime writer Denise Mina said that no one outside Scotland would understand the phrase “as small as a midgie’s oxter” Really? And shouldn’t it be “as wee as a midgie’s oxter”? Maybe North Antrim is actually a part of Scotland? If that is so, I would just like to say that we are very proud of Nicola Sturgeon today.


Or in Ulster-Scots


Wur aw vary prood o’ oor wee bantie the day.  






Friday, April 03, 2015

In Praise of Bonnie and Ben

Our godson has been staying with us this past few days and, as always, he is a pleasure to be around. I'm noticing some changes in him. All good. His confidence is increasing. He goes to the shop with me wearing grubby sweats and Hunter wellies. Two years ago he would have been worried that someone who knows him might see him and judge him. Now he doesn't care. I like that attitude.

It was great to have him here yesterday when we were so tired after the supper party shenanigans. He entertained the Misses Martha and Evie for most of the day. They discovered they did not need to keep their shoes on as Ben would carry them wherever they wanted to go. I have told him to knock that one on the head as they are taking advantage of his good nature as well as his strong arms.

He goes home tomorrow. Apparently his mother can be relied upon to make an amazing Easter Sunday dinner. He certainly wouldn't get that here. Not with me in my state of health. Bert says another clean shirt will do me.

Another clean shirt will do him - expression implying that the subject is close to death. Often used in exaggeration, e.g. if the subject has a heavy cold!

Old Ulster-Scots expression



So, back to Flickr. Have to say all the top-rated pictures tend to be rather saccharine although I do like this one, the third most interesting on Good Friday, the 3rd of April.


It's the late, much missed Bonnie, one of the gentlest dogs we've ever had, and Fred, when he was a little kitten. This one has been viewed 720 times. That cushion cover was chewed to pieces by Jess and the sofa has been relegated to the poly tunnel. Things change.

Monday, January 05, 2015

Bert and Nelly's Day Oot Revisited


One  good thing about having a blog that is ten years old is that posts can be recycled. This one is exactly ten years old. There is mention (in the comments) of a fine man who died just two days ago.


Wednesday, January 05, 2005


Bert and Nelly's Day Oot

The ither day Bert says tae me “Nelly, that’s a stinkin’ coul oul day. I dinnae think I cud face stannin’ aboot in they oul polyhooses the day lucking at them oul bushes. D’ye think we shud go intae the toon for a bit af a day oot?”

Says I tae Bert, “Ye’re richt aboot that Bert. It’s nae day tae be stannin’ aboot they ould polyhooses luckin’ at bushes, nor any ither thing for that matter. I wud like a day in the toon, but shure I cud go naewhere wae me heer hinging roon’ me in tartles.” Bert says, “Richt enough Nelly, ye’re a guy throughother lukkin’ oul clart. Mebbe ye shud go oot tae yer cousin Pauline and see if she cud dae something wae yer heer.” Says I tae Bert, “Richt enough Bert, maybe I will dae that. But first I’ll need tae slap a bit of pancake and mescara on tae take the bad luk af me” Tae finish mesel aff I sprayt a squirt of the perfume Bert got me fur me birthday. So, says I tae Bert “Am I lukkin any better now?” Says he tae me, “Ach, ye’ll do. Ye’ll be better yit when ye get yer heer tidied up. Ye smell nice anyway.” I says tae him, “It’s thon stuff ye got me fur me last birthday. Ye mind we thocht it smelt like that quare good flyspray we got last August fur the bluebottles.” Says Bert, “Och aye, but it was a quare bit dearer than thon bluebottle stuff. Thon cost me seven poon in Bairds the chemists. Mebbe I shud have got you some of thon bluebottle stuff instead.” “Naw Bert,” says I, “Thon wud likely bring ye oot in a rash. Thon bluebottle stuff, nice an’ all as it smells wud be nae use on human skin.”

I’d already gied Pauline a wee ring and she’d said “Come oan ahead Nelly an’ I’ll see whit I can dae fur ye.” So aff we set in the big dented Volkswagen van wae Paddy and Rosie. Rosie got tae sit in the front but we haud to keep Paddy ahint us in the back fur he was clarried in glaar after bein’ in a sheugh after rats. So we got the length of me ma’s and Bert went intae her hoose and goat himsel’ a feed of barley soup and small bread way a wee cup of tae in his haun. Meantime I dandered over tae Pauline’s tae see aboot getting me heer a bit of a tidy. When Pauline got a gawk at me heer she says, “Boys-a-dear, Nelly. It’s a quare wheel since ye’ve been out here.” I says to Pauline, “Indeed it is Pauline. Luk at the cut of me wae me heer hinging roon me in tartles.” Pauline says “Och shure, we’ll soon tidy thon up fur ye. Whit way wud ye like it?” I tuk a wee scally at mesel’ in the mirror an’ I says tae Pauline “Wheek a good bit aff it. Good an’ short at the tap an’ the sides. I’m lukkin’ the early 80s dyke luk” Weel it wasn’t long ‘til Pauline had me sorted oot. “Is that the usual price then?” says I. “Aye, Nelly” says she. I gie ower a five poon note. Pauline reached tae fur to gie me change but I says “Not atall, Pauline. Shure that was weel worth a fiver.” I says goodbye to her and dandered back over tae me mither’s hoose.

I wis goin’ tae ask me ma if she wanted tae come oot tae the toon wae us but she says “Yer Aunt Maud is comin’ tae take me tae the toon. We’re fur the Next sale tae get wurselves some of they cropped troosers tae tek wae us fur wur holidays in Lourdes. They cropped troosers are all the go wae the pilgrims at the minnit.” I says tae me mither “Weel then, shure that’ll be all richt. Me and Bert’ll head on then fur Bert is mad tae get tae Burton’s fur a new jumper.”
“Before you go” says she, “Will ye tek a wee cup of tay in yer haun?” I says tae me mither, “Och naw. I’ll nae bother. Shure I’ll get some in the toon wae a fish supper in Caulfield’s, I mean Casper’s.” She says, “That’ll do then. Before I forgit Pauline’s made a lovely tidy job of yer heer.” I says to her, “Aye. It needed it, but boys-a-dear, she’s brave and dear wae her three poon. Now dinnae ye be spendin’ all yer pension in the Next sale noo.” I bantered at her.
So aff we headed tae the toon. In the carpark Bert parked the ould van at an angle astride the wee white line and aff we went intae the shoppin’ centre.

I wis scallyin’ at mesel’ in the shap windows as we santered in and was weel pleased at the new heercut. “Whit are ye fur getting’ Bert?” says I. “I cud really do wae a jumper or two,” says he. “Here’s Burton’s now. Boys this is great steam. Better than stannin’ in that ould polyhoose lukkin at clematis and shite. I love shappin’”

It wisnae long afore Bert had picked himsel’ oot a couple o’ vee neck jumpers. He hoult wan, then anither up agin himsel’. “Whit dae ye think Nelly? Which wan shud I go fur?” Weel says I, “The mustard wan wud be good for iveryday weer and wudnae mark aisy but I like the lemon wan tae. Mebbe ye shud tak the baith o’ them.” Says Bert tae me, “Yer right Nelly. I’ll tek the baith o’ them. Wull we go tae TK Maxx nixt and see if I can get mesel’ some mer bargains?” Says I “We wull indeed Bert and then we’ll gae doon tae Caulfield’s, I mean Casper’s, fur a fish supper and a wee cup of tay tae revive us. “ And that is jist what we did.

Inspiration provided by Willie Drennan and ganching

10 comments:

Anonymous said...
Holy hell. I think I understood about half of that. And chance of a translation from the original ulster-scots?

ejh
Nelly said...
Certainly. I went out to get myself a short back and sides. I was wearing plenty of make up and smelt of fly spray. We parked badly and Bert bought two yellow sweaters. It didn't actually happen that way. Bert hates clothes shopping and my hair is still "Hingin' roon me in tartles."
Anonymous said...
That was hilarious Nelly! Kinda reminded of my youth, before I started sounding all english and all. I began to question the stories authenticity with bert's 'I love shappin'' line though!

Mikeyboy
Anonymous said...
I'll have to take your word for it that I partly inspired this as I don't speak Ulster-Scots so didn't understand a word of it.

ganching
Anonymous said...
i am absolutely certain most on dunnygarron road speak just like that nelly. throughother is a favourite of my dad's words - as is blert. blert is a terribly rude sounding and i'm not sure what it means but i like it (sounds like it could be a rude vagina word)
dad would also talk about sheugh's. ah to be home.
mels.
xxxxxxx
Nelly said...
Mel - Your instincts are correct about 'blert'. I think it means a cow's. 'Banjo' Reed uses it and says it is commonly, if crudely, used in Belfast. Who knows? Not Nelly.
Anonymous said...
chrisht, I did'nnodat de mammy head gonal US. Der might be an ole grant goin for dat. lasht of the breed. shore that curowd of langers below in oarip are turfing oaros at anything quare. Giter taped and on de telly shoritidbe only fanfeckintastic.

TM
Nelly said...
Yit anither road o' gettin' a poon 'r twa put by fur the oul age. D'ye think Nelly cud cod them culchur gombeens way the oul Irish-Scots malarkey?
Ronni said...
Awesome! I have a friend from Tennessee who does a really good Scots. I'll have to send him the link.
Nelly said...
If he's lowland scotch he micht unnerstan it weel enough.

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

A Bit Of A Lout

The Kerry Sister was telling me that the other day the Neesh and herself were amusing themselves with an Ulster-Scots Dictionary. Now the Neesh comes from Antrim and it's a well-known fact that Antrim people are practically McCooeys and know no Ulster-Scots at all so she was amazed at the richness of the 'hamely tongue'.

"Mind you," says the Kerry Sister, "We couldn't help but notice that most of the best words had the same meaning."

"Is that so?" says I. "And what would that have been then?"

"Oh," says she. "Most of them had a definition of 'A foolish, awkward fellow. A bit of a lout."

Well, it's said that the Inuit people have many, many words for 'snow', and Ulster-Scots appear to have many, many words for 'fool'. I wonder if this has any significance?

I thought I'd do a little research during the ad breaks of 'Big Fat Gypsy Weddings' and, advised by Bert, started with 'G'. It proved a rich seam.

My reference was 'A Concise Ulster Dictionary' a Christmas gift from Ganching 14 years ago.

Gaum - a fool, a simpleton
Gomach - a dupe, a gullible person
Gowk - stupid person, idiotic
Gornical - odd looking, dim-witted person
Gype - a clumsy awkward person
Galumpus - a stupid person
Gazeby - queer looking, a tall awkward person
Gaberloon - a stupid awkward fellow
Gah - a silly person
Gumph - a stupid person
Gulpin - thick-witted stubborn person
Glipe - an uncouth fellow
Gloit - a blockhead, an awkward fellow, a boor
Gludgeon - a clumsy awkward person
Glunter - a big awkward person
Gorgie - a foolish person, a clumsy silly person
Gowtril - good for nothing, a lout
Gunshion - thick-witted person
Gorkin - a big stupid person


My father would have regularly used 'gornical', 'gype' and 'gulpin'. 'Gornical' and 'gulpin' were terms of derision but I'm sure I remember him using 'gype' as an expression of endearment. Maybe I misunderstood him. I've heard Bert use 'gaum', 'gowk' and 'glunter'. He would usually be speaking of Clint.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Industrial Injury

I was rinsing out a few cups in work today when I spotted our pet spider getting drowned in the soapy water. Hurriedly I gathered him up to safety and do you know what? The bastard bit me! In panic I hurled Spidey to the floor and inspected my savaged finger. It was sort of itchy and scratchy and sore. I wondered (briefly) if it was a poisonous spider but sensibly decided that it was not. After all have you ever heard of a poisonous spider in Ireland? I kept an eye on my wound but it did not swell up or turn black which I took to be a good sign.

And what of Spiro the Spider? I scooped him up in a plastic glass and laid him on a tea towel to dry out. When I checked later he had scuttled off.

To take my mind off the arachnoid assault I watched live coverage of the events at Stormont. Tony looked smug and happy. Bertie looked sleekit and happy. Ian looked stern and happy. Martin looked grim and happy. And Gerry looked shifty. But I don't think he can help that.

And in the parlance of Ulster-Scots I noticed there was a quare ween o' they wee dafties aboot the place.

Friday, July 29, 2005

Futless



According to The Concise Ulster Dictionary 'futless' means to be unsteady on the feet or staggering about as in 'futless drunk'. I have also heard it being used to insult someone's dancing ability as in, 'ye wouldn't want to be getting up with Jimmy for he's futless'.

'Futless' may also be used to describe the situation of being without decent or serviceable shoes. I once heard someone tell my mother that she was futless and hadn't a shoe to her fut.

Matty says that during her childhood it wasn't uncommon for children to go without shoes during the summer. She also said that she and her sisters and brother weren't allowed to go barefoot and that having their children decently shod was a big priority for her parents. She said she felt envious of the children who could go without shoes during the summer months.

Meanwhile over at my father's homestead going barefoot in summer was perfectly OK even though his parents were quite well off and able to afford luxuries like paid-for education. But then my father's mother was a mountainy woman and as everyone do know mountainy people are very rugged and don't care much for the conventions of flatlanders.

There are very few people today who cannot afford a decent pair of shoes yet among my friends and fellow bloggers foot injuries due to futlessness abound. The first was Stephen who spiked his foot then Mrs The Wee Manny (pictured above with her hubby The Wee) had her daughter's horse clip clop the big hoof on her bare foot. Mrs The Wee being as tough as old boots, and she should have been wearing those old boots, swears it wasn't a bit sore but it seems she's going to lose a toe. The horse's newly shod hoof ripped all the skin off to the bone and the doc says it could take six months to heal. Part of the nail bed remains which means she'd grow a big horny protuberance on the flayed toe so the best advice is to chop it off. Luckily it's a middle toe so her balance shouldn't be affected.

Nelly's advice to those of you who like a bit of air about your toes is to get yourselves a nice pair of comfy sandals. But not flip-flops unless you've been invited to the White House where they are de rigeur. However if you're hanging out with horses it's boots you need.

*My 1996 Christmas present from Ganching. Invaluable resource.