Language

First of all, a bit of translation. The language I grew up with, English, uses the noun 'job' to describe two different things. One is an occupation or career, the sort of thing one would do routinely by working for an employer in exchange for a reward, usually in the form of money. The word has another meaning when used to describe a task or a single piece of work such as repairing a tap, digging a hole in the garden or wallpapering the bedroom. I now realise, however, that if the language I had grown up with had been American English then I might use another word in place of my second meaning. That word is 'project'. The first time I heard the word used in this way I was confused, largely because to me a project was something rather different, something bigger, something planned and considered in advance which might take days or weeks to complete. Designing and building a house would be considered a 'project' and this would involve a series of smaller 'jobs' using a variety of different skills.

Why is this important? To begin with it illustrates the way that our spoken language can become adapted in different ways without necessarily becoming totally misunderstood. But take the word 'cool'. Again I have been brought up to understand that this describes the temperature of an environment or an object. It is a relative term with no precise value attached to it, but it is a word that my parents would only ever have used in this context. Today, however, this same word has another meaning altogether, one that is again relative and rather imprecise but at the same time it has acquired a positive aspect. It can describe people, an experience, even a job or a project and it has nothing to do with the temperature at all. Some people might even describe a visit to the sauna as 'cool'.

In the absence of a relevant photo to accompany this blog I give you a random picture with no relevance to the topic.

Since we decided to make Scotland our home (a life changing event that took place more than fifteen years ago) we have adapted our own spoken language based upon the way the English language is spoken by those around us. [In some ways it feels wrong to call it the 'English' language but I shall stick with this name for the moment.] There are two main ways in which we have changed our own speech. Firstly there are words used everyday that can only be described as 'Scots'; words like dreich, blether, brae and canny that possibly have their origins in Gaelic or Norse. More subtle, however, is the way the language is spoken, the emphasis placed upon particular syllables in a way that is different to that of the English I grew up with. Many place names in Scotland have been 'anglicised' or roughly translated from the original Gaelic so that the road signs can be pronounced by visitors from south of the border. When one needs to ask a local for directions to these places one must be able to pronounce them properly to be understood and in many instances this is simply a matter of placing the emphasis on the right syllable. One example of this is a village not far from us called 'Kilberry'. Most English speakers would emphasise the first syllable, making it sound like a type of fruit. In fact it is the anglicised spelling of the Gaelic name Cill Bheiridh, the meaning of the first part of this name means 'chapel' or 'church'. Like many other Scottish place names, the emphasis comes on the penultimate syllable. Another example is the village of Ardrishaig where the first syllable, 'Ard' refers to a headland or promontory and the rest is a bramble bush. The emphasis on the 'drish' syllable is rarely heard when the name is spoken by visitors from England.

The longer we are here and exposed to the language spoken by those born and raised here the more our own speech is influenced by the local dialect. Most people tend to retain the accents we grew up with, usually acquired whilst at school, but different words do slip into our speech, particularly when we are in conversation with someone local, and we do not resist this when it happens. In fact we think it is pretty cool! For example when speaking to a Scot we will say "We stay in Tarbert", meaning that this is the village where we live. What we don't hear spoken much, however, is the Gaelic language. Fluent speakers are rare in our locality, an outcome of the history of the Kintyre peninsular going back to a time when speaking the language was actually banned. This is gradually changing as today there is a strong movement seeking to bring it back and the BBC Alba channel is broadcast entirely in Gaelic.

We met a couple recently whose command of spoken English was very poor as they had recently arrived from Odessa, escapees from the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Without the benefit of Google's translation app our conversation with them would have been something of a challenge but we each had phones held ready and by speaking a phrase into this we could stimulate the phone to make the translation so we could understand each other. This, combined with nods and smiles, gestures common to us all, meant we could communicate quite easily, although perhaps a little slower than usual.

A recent visit to the city of Glasgow, a three hour bus ride away from home, highlighted another feature associated with the way we communicate. In our home village and indeed across most of rural Scotland, when approaching someone on the street it is normal practice to make eye contact just before passing by. This will normally trigger a greeting of some sort, a quick 'Hi' perhaps or even 'How are you doing', a short greeting being the minimum one might expect from a stranger. If it is someone we know then a pause for a conversation (a 'blether' to the Scots) is likely. When the initial eye contact does not happen it usually means you have just passed a tourist. In Glasgow, however, eye contact is avoided by most passers by, perhaps for good reasons although for us visitors this is strange and unwelcoming behaviour that makes us feel uncomfortable, unsafe even. The rush and bustle of city life is something we happily avoid as much as we can anyway but there are occasions when we just cannot avoid travelling there. Our bus passes might give us free travel and the journey around mountains and through glens might be something most would happily pay for but it is not something we undertake gladly. Nothing would persuade us today to live in a city environment.

One final thought on the language issue. We both recently called in at the local village hall to have our flu 'jags' and these seem to have caused some unpleasant side effects - sneezing, runny noses, aches in unexpected places. All part of modern life, of course.