I speak three languages, sometimes all at once. Seumas tends to deal with foreign languages by waving his passport and looking hopeful (this has a surprisingly high success rate - S) and Thomas has yet to master any meaningful communication apart from that encoded in the rustle of someone opening a packet of cheese.
As a result, I'm like a really boring Hamlet, soliloquising in French over the contents of the fridge and pondering in Gaelic the mysteries of where my shoes have gone.
This affliction was particularly acute on holiday, as the bilingual roadsigns tripped my brain into Gaelic mode, and communication became a bit fraught.
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| The Machair Way runs up the west coast of South Uist |
I heard a lot of Gaelic spoken, but didn't speak much to others. Partly due to shyness on my part - my Gaelic is still very rudimentary- and also because there is a bit of a thing where (particularly older) native speakers can feel uncomfortable talking to those who have learned Gaelic in a formal setting.
What I can do well in Gaelic is quote large chunks of song lyrics; a visit to Carinais in North Uist meant that this lovely old song got an airing - the video here is from 1989, but the song itself is said to have been composed by the foster mother of Dòmhnall mac Iain 'ic Sheumais after the Battle of Carinis in 1601.
What I can do well in Gaelic is quote large chunks of song lyrics; a visit to Carinais in North Uist meant that this lovely old song got an airing - the video here is from 1989, but the song itself is said to have been composed by the foster mother of Dòmhnall mac Iain 'ic Sheumais after the Battle of Carinis in 1601.
It's a lovely, lovely song, whichever version you hear, but it's especially poignant at the site of the battle, now a peaceful field.
As it happens, when I did speak Gaelic, it was under the most extraordinary circumstances (which most of my friends have already heard about, sorry folks). Did you watch that video? Notice that wonderful voice (and that wonderful mullet)? The mullet has long since departed but Rory MacDonald and his brother Calum are still making wonderful music, and I had the very great privilege to bump into them in Lochmaddy.
And by bump into them I mean spot them from the car and then belt back down the lane on foot, clutching their latest album and calling to them in Gaelic 'excuse me, excuse me, I'm sorry...' They were very kind, extremely tolerant of my garbled Gaelic (which deserted me entirely once face to face), and generally made my day.
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| Calum agus Ruaraidh Dòmhnallach |
Nach buidhe dhomh? (Aren't I lucky?)
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