It went well. By my standards anyway. I hid the car around the back, locked the front door, turned off the lights, phone and radio, and settled down to work. It’s surprising how much you can get done without distractions. I left word with the dog to tell any neighbours who called to invite me for Christmas morning drinks that I was indisposed. That’s a big word for a small dog and he may have told them I was gone or away or both.
I made one brief foray into the outside world that day. Just to see Seán open his presents. There was a power cut right then and the wee man, having experienced as many power cuts in his short life as I have noses, knew what to do - he fetched candles. It didn’t matter that it was daytime - you don’t ever miss a chance to play with fire when you’re nearly 3.
Some of the wrapping was proving difficult to open but he knew what to - he fetched a scissors. It didn’t matter that there were three adults there to help - you don’t ever miss a chance to play with sharp objects when you’re nearly 3.
The Bob the Builder socks were well received as was the Gruffalo book set. The Buntús Foclóra created a whole new game - within minutes he had figured out the rules: When you have this book in your hands, dog is not doggie it’s madra; bike is not bike it’s rothar. His daddy scowled and kept muttering on about wasting time and money but I knew what to do - I sniggered and got Seán started on the numbers - you don’t ever miss a chance to piss off monoglots when you’re nearly 43.
Well that was it then. That was the highlight of the festive season. The following days are what I normally look forward to - the post-Christmas racing at Leopardstown. This year’s festival has been a disaster for me. Every single damn horse I backed fell. Every last one of them. I’m afraid to back again in case I am the cause of some poor jockey getting killed.
But in typical Irish fashion I have to look for someone worse off than me. If you’ve never used the expression ah shur, it could be worse then you are not Irish. When they bring in the language test for citizenship I bet that will be question one.
Luckily I found someone. A mickey-relation* of mine went to get out of car at work on Christmas Eve. She had just leaned back in to grab something off the passenger seat when there was an all-merciful clatter. A truck had taken the door clean off the hinges. Ah shur, it could have been worse - it could have taken me with it.
The insurance company were wonderful. They organised a garage to take the car and what was left of the door away. And they even gave her the loan of a car until her own is repaired. On Christmas morning her brother reversed his tractor into the side of it and made shite of the driver’s door. But she knew what to do - she rang the insurance and explained - ah shur, it could have been worse - it could have been me own car - you’d don’t ever miss a chance to defy logic when you’re nearly 23.
*For US readers: Related through marriage, not by blood.
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i had a friend whose mother used to say, “it’s either an arse or an elbow” same same? or different?
(thanks for the fun read, sugar!)
(happy new year, too)
Bob the Builder socks rawk!
So why is it that in the films Leprechauns don’t speak gheylick? Danu, Bile, Lugh and all the rest were German anyway is that going to be the language for immigration?
Savannah - Eh, different I’d say. Although I like that one and will keep it for future use.
Sam - These have rubber sole grips in the shape of spanners to stop him slipping. Unfortunately his wish to show off the spanners to everyone means raising his foot and he ends up on his arse anyway.
Young Knudsen - Easy: The Yanks made those films. That’s why. But I see where you’re coming from with the German though - if the wee man could pass himself off as Germanic he could one day become a British monarch.
Why is Sean’s daddy against the Irish language?
Too old fashioned?
Happy New Year, Primal.
Medbh - And a hip hop happy 2008 to you too.
Why the anti-Irish attitude? A comment isn’t enough to answer that. A post isn’t either. And I don’t have time to write a book.
In his case, there are two main reasons: Firstly, tens of thousands of our generation were turned against the language by the very system intended to promote it - the schools. Secondly, there is the inadequacy factor - he can’t speak it therefore it is useless and pointless and damned if the child will be allowed squander his time on it.
This kind of attitude is more common than you may think. Read of two of Rosie’s recent experiences here.
Many years ago I taught young people from all the Gaeltachts over in Connemara.
Much fun was had comparing dialects!
The Donegal lads called a bicycle “wischleck” and I remember them saying “ag backall an car”
The joy of it!
Gheobhaidh tú an chéad bronntanas feiliúnach eile ag spailpín:
Céard faoi T-léine “Níl mé ag iarraidh”
http://www.spailpin.com/Gaeilge/nlmagiarraidhtline.php?UID=72722999
I have some sympathy for those who failed to learn Irish (or French or fill in language here) because their teachers didn’t speak it themselves. But I get annoyed when they blame me for it…
Mary - Have you come across clog beag for watch? I just love the logic of that one.
Aonghus - Now look what you made me do: I just bought this from that site.
They can’t blame you - you didn’t put the horror that is Peig on the curriculum!
Níl greann na Gaeilge le sarú.
P.S. uaireadóir atá ar mo lámh agamsa.
Poor Peig gets a bad press. She dictates some yarns, somebody makes a book out of them, and then forcefeeds it to hormonal teenagers with no context.
I haven’t reread Peig recently, but the yarns in Machnamh Seanmhná are good - if you like yarns.
Primal, you weren’t planning on wearing that yourself were you? Or have you indulged so much you’ve developed?
On the other thing I think the forcefeeding was the issue.
Eolaí - Nope, it isn’t for me. The most-beautiful-woman-in-the-world’s birthday is soon and I’m going to take a chance she sees the funny side (and doesn’t kick me in the balls when I translate - Poles can be as fiery as Italians betimes).
Ah yes, spot on with force-feeding, but isn’t that the system failure I mentioned in comments?
The alleged force feeding is a consequence of the anglophone inability to grasp the concept of multiple languages.
I “learned” French for 6 years in school - and can just about read it.
I have several acquaintances who in far flung corners of the world became fluent in Irish in a fraction of the time.
The system of language teaching in the English speaking world is disastrously broken. The catastrophe that is the teaching of Irish in Irish schools is just the worst case.
Ach, dar Croim agus déithe na nGael, ní ormsa ná orthu siúd a bhfuil Gaeilge acu atá an locht!
Sin mo rachtsa go n-uige seo.
Athbhliain faoi shonas daoibh go léir. Agus “Sto Lat” do’d chailín, a Phrimal.
Aonghus - Yes, there is the fact that non-English speakers worldwide have English thrown at them by movies, music etc. and it cannot but seep in. In many cases geographic factors often result in exposure to other languages. Once one other language is learned, the ear becomes tuned to pick up others.
I have a Finnish friend who, while never making a conscious effort to learn, can now relate back the gist of what she hears on TG4. Okay, she is exceptional with a current fluency in 10. And I am always in awe of An Cainteoir, Michal (or Micilín Mac Měchúra to give him his new moniker).
By the way: I can never say Sto Lat and retain my composure. I either remember Discworld and laugh, or if in a pub, grimace with fear that someone will start singing the damn song.
Discworld is indeed dangerous to one’s composure.
Abair “Go maire tú an céad” mar sin. It means the same…focal ar fhocal…
My birthday isn’t til August,Silly. I don’t think that is soon.
Aonghus - Excellent compromise! Thanks.
Sugar - I realise that, but given the way the postal system has deteriorated since Moist left to take over the bank, I thought it best to send it in plenty of time.