I spotted this headstone last Friday in the graveyard in Kilmihil, Co. Clare and my journey back to Ennis included contemplation on two things on the plaque.
I can remember only ever seeing R.I.P. on a headstone – this is the first which registered on my brain with an additional letter. I trust it stands for Rest in Peace. Amen. – but to see it carved in stone was new for me.
The second was the use of the word ‘Alias’ which I had filed away (incorrectly as I now know) as an assumed and additional name to one’s given name. ‘Née’ was what I would have expected where the name changed upon marriage.
Chambers Dictionary confirmed that it can also relate to a previous name and that it derives from a Latin word meaning ‘at another time’. Collins Dictionary agrees.
I suspect my flawed understanding was probably influenced by my childhood television viewing which included ‘Alias Smith & Jones’.
Logainm.ie has Ballard in Co. Clare translated as An Baile Ard, the High Town.
Logainm does not have any suggestion for ‘Soghmas’ or ‘Soghmais’. Neither does Foclóir.ie.
Dúchas.ie is a website/database of translation of surnames and it does not have any name beginning with ‘Sog’ or ‘tSog’.
Yet the sign on Ballard Road in Milltown Malbay reads Bóthar an tSoghmais.
This is another puzzle which may require a return visit to Milltown Malbay and enquiring of the local publicans – all in the spirit of research…..
In Ennistymon on Thursday, I spotted this sign on a few fields around the Falls Hotel.
My first thoughts were happy – smiling at the thought of possible danger of a donkey; delighted to have captured a new sign. Donkeys are well up there in the list of animals loved by our nine-year old.
With the benefit of a few days, the happiness has receded and has been replaced with disappointment verging on despair as to the litigious and over-protective society we have become.
I was speaking with E.T. recently and he was relating the benefits of the Darwin Awards – that if someone was so lacking in basic common sense, then whatever the result was appropriate.
We spotted the donkeys in a different field – at least 7 of them. They were grazing away- content and happy with their lot. They posed no danger to us or other users of the road/path.
If I had decided to enter the field, approach one of the donkeys and extend my hand towards its head, would it be my fault if the donkey decided to have a bite my fingers? Would this be the inherent danger posed by donkeys of which humans must be warned?
Or would I be the ass? Should I have a sign around my head warning fellow-humans of my self-danger?
Yesterday we went for a walk along the Prom in Lahinch – typical Irish bracing walk where ‘bracing’ translates as ‘windy with some showers thrown in for good measure’.
I spotted this graffiti at the start of the Promenade near the town.
I cannot recall too many incidents of graffiti with a ‘thought for the day’-type message.
At the start of the New Year, I thought I’d share.
A few weeks back, I went to Ó Bhéal, upstairs at The Long Valley. Seán Ó Roideacháin was the guest poet. His readings were in both Irish and English.
It brought home to me the lyrical nature and lovely sound of Gaeilge. Seán generally read each poem in Irish and then English translation. There was no doubt in my ears that the Irish version had a cadence about it – the flow and rhythm was so much smoother than the English.
Maybe I have a slight bias in having started conversational Irish classes a while back but my knowledge level was such that I could not fully understand the Irish so was probably more in tune with the sound.
It reminded me of the caption on the statue to Willie Clancy at Milltown Malbay that I thought that I’d share.
Those birds have some high standards.
No garage or run-down shack is good enough. No.
Only the inner sanctum of Ballaghaderreen Golf Club will suffice for chosen residence – and without the necessity to cough up green fees.
Many thanks to SOK for the photo which set me down on two separate memory tracks.
Last year I contemplated the Irish translation of the different variety of owls at the Birds of Prey Centre at Ailwee Caves.
Most owls were translated as ‘Ulchabhán’ whereas the Barn Owl was ‘Scréachóg Reilige’.
During the year, I was speaking with SOB, who commented that Barn Owls were native to Ireland and so the name of ‘Scréachóg Reilige’ (Graveyard Screecher) possibly predates the standardisation (Ulchabhán). Regardless, I think it such an apt name to put on the Barn Owl.
Going through my photos from our visit to Santa last Christmas, I noted that the Long Eared Owl also was not translated as ‘Ulchabhán’. Again it appears to be native to Ireland.
Its name in Irish again appears so appropriate – Ceann Cait – Head of a Cat.
Another wonderful tweet from Robert MacFarlane educated that the Jay is known ‘as Gaeilge’ as "Scréachóg Choille" – Screecher of the Woods.
There are very many towns in Ireland with a Church St– Listowel’s is a bit unusual.
Logainm has various translations including Sráid na hEaglaise; Sráid an Teampaill; and Sráid na Cille.
We were in Listowel on Thursday after Kathleen’s funeral and I noted that the translation was Sráid an Ághasaigh – which appears to literally translate as Ashe St.
I do not know why this anomaly in translation exists but would like to think that it is similar to Coburg Street in Cork – another on the To Find Out list.
I was in Corca Dhuibhne a few weeks back and stopped to take a photograph of the Ashe Memorial. Only a few days ago, I blogged about Andy O’Sullivan who died on hunger strike and Thomas Ashe is said to be the first who died on hunger strike while campaigning for Irish freedom. All conspire to prompt today’s ramble.
From checking my photos of streetsigns, maybe Dingle might be in a similar situation to Listowel where Ashmount Terrace translates from Irish as Ashe Terrace.
I have long been impressed with the quantity and quality of public sculptures in Ennis – I will sometime get around to uploading them on a separate section.
Yesterday’s update from MeticulousMick was about ‘The Passage’ art installation in Wroclaw.
It reminded me of an installation near the library in Ennis.
When I saw it first, I thought it may have been a representation of Famine times with people shrinking back into the ground but seemingly ‘with a number incomplete sculpture pieces, which signify incompleteness through all stages of life.’
I thought I’d share…
Every news website appears to have something to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the first Fr. Ted programme.
Why should I be any different.
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