I do not remember learning the Irish word for daffodil when I was in school. Four years ago, standing in our front garden, chatting with a neighbour who knew that I had started Conversational Irish classes, SOK pointed over and mentioned ‘Lus an Cromchinn’. My questioning continued in English. I was rewarded with the expression – Flower of the Stooped Head. Every Spring morning since then, opening the front door, I smile at the bowed heads. Some days, there is a nod of acknowledgement.
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Not for the first time on our Conversational Irish walk, I was delighted with the literal translation of a new Irish word learned. Last Summer, I had learned of an expression from West Cork – as tough as ath fhéithlean, a bi-lingual acknowledgement of the strength and stubbornness of Woodbine. I had always known the plant as Woodbine, quite probably the name was ingrained following many visits with my grandfather to those institutions that no longer exist, the tobacconist. He had a preferred mix of a number of brands for his pipe. It was well into the second half of my years to date before I knew it was also called Honeysuckle.
A few weeks later, as we walked around Blackrock and Bessboro, I learned of “Fás Aon Oíche”, or “Grows One Night”. I thought it was such a lovely name, perfectly describing what was in front of us – a mushroom. Only the previous week, sitting on a high stool while on holidays, Tim imparted the benefit of his local knowledge. We now know where to find mushrooms while on holidays. A few days after that Conversational Irish walk, I headed west for the Dingle peninsula to pack up everything and everyone – the return home after the Kerry Summer Experience. Before leaving that Saturday, I headed out early and collected a cap-full of mushrooms that had sprouted up that night. It remains my most recent meal on the Dingle peninsula. I can still recall the buzz of foraging and the flavours enjoyed.
A tweet last weekend from Robert Macfarlane on ‘puhpowee’, a native North American word for the force that pushes mushrooms up overnight, assisted in getting this blog from my brain into the virtual world.
It has also prompted a separate section of other words in Irish that brought a smile with their literal translations – Head of a Cat; Seal’s Snot; and, others. Hopefully, even more will be added over time. This book was recently taken down from an attic in Ennis where it resided for probably close to 50 years. It is assumed that it belonged to the man who built the house but he was educated in Partry, Co. Mayo where he was born in 1918.
The web educates that fifth edition of the book was published in 1910. There is nothing to say whether this copy is a first or later edition. Among those thanked in the Preface is an tAthair Pearar Ó Laoghaire, who died in 1920 and is buried in Castlelyons where Thomas Kent was reinterred in 2016. Seán Ó Catháin and Diarmaid Ó Foghludha are also thanked and, if I found the correct men, they died in 1937 and 1924 respectively, and were involved in Irish education.
sJames Griffin of Main Street in Dingle has his name written in the book. The 1911 Census reveals that there was only one James Griffin in Main Street, Dingle, the then youngest of ten children living with shopkeeper Michael and his wife, Kate. Their house was at 33 Main Street. Having gone up and down the street on Google, very few premises have numbers on their doors. Even fewer appear to have the building number on their website or on weblistings. My best guess is that the south side (Foxy John’s; Benners) have odd numbers and the north side (Currans; St James’ Church) have the even numbers. Number 33 would appear to be in or around McKenna’s . My mind supposes that young James Griffin, as one who had no problem with writing his name in many locations, was more interested in playing around the corner on Dykegate Street rather than perfecting the art of Irish Composition. The fact that at 4 his parents did not consider him able to speak either Irish or English, adds to that image.
I can understand how the book travelled from Partry to Ennis and why it resided in an attic for 50 years but am intrigued as to who Pat Carroll was; was he the second of three owners of the book; where was he living.
How the book got from Dingle to Partry is another riddle remaining unsolved. I don’t think I have ever before enjoyed a book so much without reading it.
Today’s listing from Stair na hÉireann advised that on this day in 1916, Séan Ó Ríordáin was born. This prompted a reminder to self to finish the grouping of the very many photographs and start uploading here. I have spent a while this afternoon putting together the different aspects relating to Seán Ó Ríordáin that I have encountered in the past few years – as well as a bit of a distraction on YouTube. SEE ALL HERE
 It is probably a question better suited to a high stool than a Table Quiz.
‘How many letters in the Irish alphabet?’ can provoke debate as to whether ‘á’ is a different letter to ‘a’; whether ‘ċ’ is a different letter to ‘ch’; and, they are before one gets to the incorporation of new words such as ‘X-gatháim’ and‘vacsaín’. The Irish Grammar Book advises that the Irish language comprises 18 letters. The remaining 8 – j k q v w x y z – ‘are sometimes used in foreign loan words or in mathematical or scientific terminology’. I have recently been cataloguing the thousands of streetname signs that I have photographed. I smiled at this one in the St. Luke’s Cross area of Cork. The ‘x’ jumped out at me immediately – an ‘x’ in the Gaelic script. The dimensions of the letter ‘x’ do look different to the rest. Maybe the signmaker was a Gaelgóir and wanted to point out the abuse of the Irish alphabet – to my eyes he succeeded. I took this photograph in May 2015 when I had a few hours to explore and try to expand my collection of IHS Tiles – a ongoing endeavour. May 2015 was reasonably early in my relearning Irish education. I had a recollection that ‘bean rialta’ was the Irish translation for nun that I had known and used. When I saw the word ‘ealtanach’, it went on the mental ‘To Find Out More’ list but remained in the backwater of that list until this morning.  There were a few tweets about streetnames in Cork – their misnaming and such stories. Then I spotted a tweet with an older streetsign for Nun’s Island and the same translation – ealtanach. ‘Ealtanach’ swiftly departed the depths of that To Do List and is now done – as much as I can, for now. An amount of time searching the internet did result in quite a number of dead ends. Teanglann.ie and pota-focal.ie both drew blanks in translations for ealtanach, ealtan and ealtanaigh. Thinking it may be a surname, I went to sloinne.ie – another blank. The online directory of Irish placenames is logainm.ie. Before it provided a clue, it gave some humorous distraction. There are two Nuns’ Islands listed as being in Ireland. The other is in Lough Ree, north of Athlone. The Irish name for this island is Oileán na gCailleach Dubh. ‘Cailleach’ was in my Irish vocabulary, from another streetsign at Cahercalla in Ennis – the Fort of the Hag.
UPDATE 2017.01.30 -The world of twitter has helped clarify, educate and improve my Irish.
Aonghus Ó hAlmhain advised that ‘ealtanach’ is listed on teanglann.ie as a variant of ‘ealtach’ translated as abounding in flocks (of birds); that the logainm notes also say ‘sin an áit ina mbeadh ealtaí éan’ – I translate as ‘That is the places in which there are flocks of birds’; and that eDIL dictionary confirms ‘caille, the base of ‘cailleach’ derives from veiled woman.  It may not be as important or as news-worthy as Cormac Ó Bruic’s departure from The Flying Enterprise or Na Piarsaigh football team bein g instructed to speak English. No doubt it is human error and an oversight but arguably it is discrimination nonetheless. English speakers can park in the Loading Bay on Woods Street on Saturdays and Sundays – they being outside the prohibited periods on Monday to Friday. Those communicating through Irish are prohibited on Saturday – Dé Sathrain.
To Find Out More List The three books have provided little bits of knowledge about so many things that I need to find out more (ever connecting). I have enjoyed a pint in The Blue Bull in Sneem. It was Éamon Kelly who educated that The Blue Bull was a Synge Play. I will need to return to Gneeveguilla to photograph the plaque to Mick Sullivan who was shot by Black & Tans while Éamon Kelly was in the adjacent school – the list of Civil War and War of Independence memorials ever growing. There are many traditions that intrigued, sounded lovely or just demanded further exploring – families joined in butter; overnight fasting prior to receiving Holy Communion; family owning a church pew so those standing at back did not have funds to purchase and pay rent on pew; stopping the clock upon a death, as seen in Jean deFlorette; and the giving of a disease to another similar to leaving cloth on a rag tree at a Holy Well. It also introduced words to me, many appear derived for Irish. These will keep me going for some time. The list is below but any education as to ‘gripe’; ‘hoult’; ‘fakah’;or, ‘roiseters’ would be welcome. A Visit To The TheatreThis week I spotted that Jack Healy had a play based upon the stories of Éamon Kelly at The Cork Arts Theatre on Camden Quay.
Yesterday lunchtime was a magnificent hour spent listening, smiling, laughing and remembering. More than halfway through the show, I was reminded as to one of my flysheet notes in The Journeyman. There had been quite a few different stories. Éamon Kelly in The Journeyman was writing of ‘In My Father’s Time’ – ‘We found that a number of stories told one after the other could sound episodic. There had to be a changing relationship between the pieces, and the links had to be carefully thought out to make seamless the fabric, which we hoped would be colourful and entertaining’. My flysheet note was that the book, unlike The Apprentice which I found much more interesting, was failing to flow. Fair play to Jack Healy. With the benefit of reflection on my hour or so in the auditorium, the different aspects and stories flowed; and, the knitting of the stories was brilliant and of a manner that brought the occasion up to date. I had heard or read of a few of the stories but the delivery, verbally and with actions, made them a new experience – I laughed even when I knew the punchline. It is in the Cork Arts Theatre only until tomorrow night but is intended to travel later in the year. I do recommend.  I was in Skibbereen on Tuesday to say goodbye to Mary and spotted this sign. For a few years now, I have been photographing streetsigns. It probably started as a learning exercise as to the various options for different translations – such as Avenue. It has continued with a bent as to spelling and anomalies in translation. In that time, I do not think I have ever seen a ‘Porch’ named on the streetsign - until now.
 I smiled when I spotted this in Tralee a while back. I got to thinking that the pub was happy to advertise its food (bia) and music (ceol) but definitely wanted a bit of emphasis on its prime activity, drink (ól). I thought the capitalising of such a short word was a much understated marketing strategy – but it worked on this reader. All this assumes that it was a marketing strategy and not a typesetting oversight……
 I do think that the building trade has contributed more than any other to this blog.
There have been multiple extentions, roof’s, some slabing, and even a piller. Last October, I spotted a stop issue as Gaeilge. Heading to Blackrock Village for lunch recently, I spotted Ward & Burke’s deliberate effort to provoke discussion as to the standard of Irish spelling. They must have definitely ordered the sign with both ‘bóthar’ and ‘bothar’. Over coffee, how many have discussed how they thought it should be ‘Bóthar Dúnta’? Any other than me? Once again, the Irish language conveys a more accurate message.  A while back, having attended the commemoration of Thomas Kent at Cork railway station, I learned that 15 train stations were renamed in 1966 to honour the 16 men executed after the 1916 Rising. 15 stations for 16 men – not sixteen stations. I was wondering as to Willie Pearse in that he is likely to be lost when people think of Pearse Station - and then think of his brother. Standing on the platform, waiting for the 08:39 to Donabate, I had a bit of a eureka moment, as Gaeilge. The photograph is slightly blurred as it was taken as engine approached and cut off the view but it clearly calls the station, Stáisiún na bPiarsach. This differs from Páirc an Phiarsaigh (Pearse Stadium in Galway) and Coláiste an Phiarsaigh in Glanmire and got me thinking as to whether the possessive case was plural. My Irish is improving but Tuiseal Ginneadach of weak plurals is still well beyond me. I may know of a difference but do not know why or when to use. POF was consulted and was able to confirm that the sign in Irish does indeed recognise both brothers – STATION OF THE PEARSES. I suspect that Irish Rail will not be rebranding as Pearses’ Station – but I do think it would be the right thing to do in the year that is in it.  The Cork County Board website confirms that Páirc Uí Chaoimh does have two ‘síneadh fada’s.
Maybe Sisk’s construction programme has the ‘síneadh fada’s being applied later in the project. |
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