Fish Got To Swim…..
Birds Got To Fly……..
Clonee and the Kerry variety appear to have been cleaned up in the logainm records.
Was introduced to a new message on a gravestone last week while taking some pleasant time out at Loch Salach Cemetery in Clonee.
Fish Got To Swim…..
Birds Got To Fly……..
A variation on ‘A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do…..’
I was intrigued as to Loch Salach which did look like it derived from Dirty Lake but logainm.ie does not appear to mention dirty about the Clonee Lough Salach. The Donegal Loughsallagh does have reference to dirty: as does Loughsallaghclogher in Co Galway – dirty lake of the stoney place.
Clonee and the Kerry variety appear to have been cleaned up in the logainm records.
Our conversational Irish walk was a bit puzzled yesterday.
Our monthly siúlóid took us through Monkstown Demense. As we we exiting the estate before heading back down Glen Road to the village, we tried, and failed to figure out the meaning of the words carved into the archways on either side of the road.
The archways facing the road read Monkstown Demense so it was not a translation.
Lámh Fois Tenachabú had us stumped – not too difficult for my level of Gaeilge but it had all of us beaten. Jerry did think it may have something to do with the motto for the estate – top marks.
Learning can be difficult enough – even relearning. But it definitely does not helped when the mason or letter carver sets out not to make things easy. The number of stones in the arch mean that these two options would have been equally easy to cut:
The latter option may well have been read as Lámh Foistenach Abú which translates as The Steady Hand To Victory. If there was an O’Sullivan among the group, we may have had greater success in interpreting as it is the motto of the O’Sullivan’s.
Earlier I was reading a blog post on The River-side about banned books and particularly, The Tailor and Ansty.
In it, the UCC Library included a photograph of what was Seán Ó Ríordáin’s copy of the book, which made me smile. Many years ago, I decided that my books were mine and it was ok to make notes and underline passages.
Not alone did Seán Ó Ríordáín do likewise – but we both made notes as to Ring- A-Dora.
Logainm.ie does not translate Berkeley. The word Berkeley stays as Berkeley in Berkeley Avenue; Berkeley Court; Berkeley Place; Berkeley Road; Berkeley Street; and, Berkeley Terrace. Even the townland of Berkeley in Co. Wexford translates as Berkeley. All reasonable consistent and reflective of the trend not to translate names.
But there is a ‘HOWEVER’.
I cannot find reference to ‘glascaonóg’ in teanglann, pota-focal or my Irish-English dictionary. ‘Gláscaonóg’ provided similar results.
If ‘glas’ is considered an adjective meaning green, there was a chance that ‘caonóg’ might be a word in Irish. That chance did not last long.
Neither did the chance of ‘caon’ being in the dictionary, if ‘óg’ is a qualifying adjective meaning young. The option of Young Green Something being a translation disappeared quickly.
Logainm does have four references to Caonóg which generally translate phoenetically into English. Keenoge in Co.Monahan, does have a note that ‘caonóg’ means ‘a place for bees’. Keenog, also, in Co Monaghan, has ‘mossy place’ as a note for ‘caonóg’. Neither ‘Green Mossy Place’ or ‘Green Place of Bees’ sound perfect answers, but they may well be.
So I remain lost, on two counts.
What does ‘Glascaonóg’ mean?
Why have many signs in Dublin 7 containing the word ‘glascaonóg’ as a translation of Berkeley been painted over? Even Bearclí has been painted over.
Very many thanks to Pól Ó Duibhir (Póló), who responded on twitter with a link to SRÁIDAINMNEACHA BHAILE ÁTHA CLIATH which outlines that an old name for the stream Bradóg was Glas Caonóg.
The existence of a stream Bradóg goes some way to explain the Irish name on Broadstone which is nothing like ‘Cloch Leathan’.
We were in South Mayo over the weekend. Having passed through Shrule on the Galway to Castlebar road, I was a bit puzzled when I saw the signs for HundredAcres. I was expecting something along the lines of Céad Acra – but no,the signs says Creagán na Abhla.
I did not see any apple tree as we passed the edge of HundredAcres but was intrigued somewhat as to the name.
Logainm.ie does have its Irish translation as Céad Acra but notes that the area only became known as Hundred Acres around 1827. Prior to this, and back to 1617, it was known by various names similar in spelling to the 1617 version – Creggannehawly, which is not too dissimilar to Creagán na Abhla.
We were speaking with JH from the area who had been told the story that there was a local land agent called Duncan who possibly worked for the same landlord as Captain Boycott. Captain Boycott worked for the 3rd Earl Erne, who would have held the title when the name came into use in 1827.
Duncan was asked by his employer to put together a parcel of land. He gathered 350 acres near Kilmaine and this was then gifted to him by the landlord. Upon his death, Duncan left 150 acres to his son and 100 acres to each of his daughters, which is what is locally believed to have led to the name of the area.
Subsequently, the son and one daughter moved away and the one remaining daughter purchased the lands to put the 350 acres back together again. Another visit will be required to try to establish more information and when, and why, the original Rocky Outcrop of the Apple Tree was re-introduced in the Irish version.
Thirty three years ago, our student accommodation comprised the top half of a terraced house on the New Cabra Road.
My lasting memory is of how cold it was and of three of us using an opened out sleeping-bag for warmth on the couch watching television.
Yesterday, I parked very close to the old flat and was struck by the streetsigns – something that I never pondered in those student days.
I was first struck by the font – the ‘C’ in Cabra looked bigger than the other letters.
Then the other letters did not look as if they had been lined up correctly – the ‘R’ in ‘BÓTHAR’ and the first ‘A’ in ‘CABRAÍ’
Only then did I spot that the ‘Í’ at the end of ‘CABRAÍ’ was a painted addition – similar to Sidney Park and Cahercalla.
Logainm does suggest that ‘CABRAÍ’ is correct but the answers as to who and when the amendments were carried out is possibly a matter of local knowledge and a need-to-know basis.
This afternoon, I had an ‘I Wonder’ moment.
These sometimes convert into ‘Eureka’ moments when one goes back to research and check. Often, the moment is merely a joining of curious connections.
It is probably over 25 years since I was in the Five Alley premises, on the Limerick Road, just outside Nenagh. The first time I heard the name, my mind processed ‘Fivelly’ – only when I arrived at the premises, I learned the true spelling.
I cannot recall if I did ask of the landlady family as to whether there were five handball alleys, but that is how I had the pub and area filed away – until that ‘I wonder’ moment today.
On our walk in the Regional Park in Ballincollig, I saw the bilingual sign for Beech Walk. I pronounced the translation of beech in my head and wondered – Five Alley – Fáibhilí.
Logainm does not have a listing for Five Alley in Tipperary. There is one in Co. Offaly, north of Birr and the literal translation of its name in Irish is The Court and the notes do refer to Handball Courts or alleys – but none in Tipperary or anywhere else in the country.
The extent of Beech trees outside Nenagh is yet to be investigated. It may only be a curious co-incidence, or I may have been right to wonder…..
This morning I spotted a tweet about the closing time at the Regional Park in Ballincollig being brought back an hour with the start of September.
My Irish vocabulary is not huge but the use of ‘geatí’ did look odd. The web confirmed that it was incorrect – ‘geataí’ being the plural of ‘geata’.
In my real life, as opposed to this virtual life, I have spoken with the official translator at Cork County Council, so am aware that she exists, or at least existed. I was very very surprised to read that only a month ago the Irish Examiner revealed that Cork County Council used Google Translate as a translation service – definitely not fit for that purpose I would have thought.
The dogs needed a walk this afternoon so we headed to the Powdermills so that I could take my own photograph of ‘Geatí’.
Within yards of the closing time sign, there is another notice regarding the locking of the gates. This uses ‘Geataí’ – curiouser and curiouser…..
Yet again, a word in Irish brings joy.
I had never stopped to think that there might be a word for rustled cattle, stolen cows, plundered bovine. My geographical and timeline placings did not put me near cattle, or plundering forays.
This morning, reading an email with latest blog post from West Cork History introduced me to Lisheenacreagh – Lisín na Creiche – Little Fort of the Cattle Spoil. The word ‘spoil’ had me intrigued.
Logainm has the spelling as Lisheennacreagh and a suggested history of ‘little fort of the prey or plunders’. WestCorkHistory has details of house being burned down in War of Independence.
‘Creach’ has now entered my vocabulary of Irish words. I cannot see it getting an outing in a sentence too often.
No photograph of a sign today – but will go looking on my next trip to West Cork if a townland plaque does exist for the safe house for the stolen cattle.
There we were- waiting.
The 17th of January, and the first family meeting, with the care staff at Marymount Hospice, was imminent.
I don’t know what people do to prepare for or even distract from such meetings.
Me – I read the sign and was immediately on Teanglann as I had understood that the word was spelled ‘Agallamh’. The web confirmed that ‘Agallamh’ was nominative singular and genitive plural; and that, ‘Agallaimh’ was genitive singular and nominative plural.
‘Agaill’ is another word for ‘interview’ – but no sign anywhere of ‘Agaillimh’, except on the door of this room, possibly deliberately placed there to distract the likes of me.
Fast forward to May Day and the Cherry Blossom petals getting a bit of a bettering with the weather.
I have taken my chair. I wait to be called to request and receive a Death Certificate. I am once again distracted, trying to remember the genitive plural – fairly sure that it ought to be ‘Agallamh’
When I took my place in Interview Room 4, I was absolutely convinced that both ‘Seomra Agallaimh’ and ‘Seomraí Agallaimh’ could not both be correct.
Sometimes it is good to be distracted.
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.
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.
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