dialect

  • Haggis – a poetic dish

    portrait of Robert Burns
    The Bard of Ayrshire. Picture courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
    Today, 25th January is the birthday of Robert (or Rabbie) Burns (1759 – 21 July 1796), Scotland’s most celebrated poet. He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland and is celebrated worldwide. He is the best known of the poets who have written in the Scots language, although much of his writing is also in English and a light Scots dialect, making his works accessible to an audience beyond Scotland. He also wrote in standard English and this brought out his bluntest political and civil commentaries.

    Burns is also regarded as a pioneer of the Romantic movement and after his death he became a great source of inspiration to the founders of both liberalism and socialism, as well as a cultural hero in Scotland and the Scottish diaspora around the world.

    Rabbie’s birthday is now traditionally celebrated by a Burns Night supper, of which haggis is an essential ingredient, traditionally accompanied by ‘neeps’ (turnips or swede) and ‘tatties’ (potatoes). One gets the impression that Rabbie was rather fond of haggis, since in 1786 he wrote “Address To A Haggis”, which is reproduced below.

    Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
    Great chieftain o’ the pudding-race!
    Aboon them a’ yet tak your place,
    Painch, tripe, or thairm:
    Weel are ye wordy o’a grace
    As lang’s my arm.

    The groaning trencher there ye fill,
    Your hurdies like a distant hill,
    Your pin was help to mend a mill
    In time o’need,
    While thro’ your pores the dews distil
    Like amber bead.

    His knife see rustic Labour dight,
    An’ cut you up wi’ ready sleight,
    Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
    Like ony ditch;
    And then, O what a glorious sight,
    Warm-reekin’, rich!

    Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:
    Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
    Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
    Are bent like drums;
    Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
    Bethankit! hums.

    Is there that owre his French ragout
    Or olio that wad staw a sow,
    Or fricassee wad make her spew
    Wi’ perfect sconner,
    Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
    On sic a dinner?

    Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
    As feckles as wither’d rash,
    His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
    His nieve a nit;
    Thro’ blody flood or field to dash,
    O how unfit!

    But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
    The trembling earth resounds his tread.
    Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
    He’ll mak it whissle;
    An’ legs an’ arms, an’ hands will sned,
    Like taps o’ trissle.

    Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
    And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
    Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
    That jaups in luggies;
    But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer
    Gie her a haggis!

    Haggis, neeps and tatties.
    Haggis, neeps and tatties.
    I’m looking forward to some haggis, neeps and tatties this evening at The Volunteer Tavern in St Judes, Bristol, beautifully prepared by Mark the chef, as well as a wee dram or two to wash it all down. I’m also looking forward to the other courses, starting with cock-a-leekie soup or Scotch broth for starters finishing with cranachan for dessert.

    Furthermore, I might also have to find time to bone up on the Address above as I might have to do it.

    If you are celebrating Burns Night too, do enjoy it!

  • Snow in Bristol

    A snowflake under the microscope
    A snowflake under the microscope. Picture courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
    It snowed in Bristol yesterday, as it did over a large part of the UK. No more than 2-3 inches of the frozen white stuff caused complete chaos with bus services withdrawn, schools closed and similar over-reactions. A friend called me yesterday afternoon: he works in Geneva and told me that several times that amount – nearly 2 feet in fact – fell there on Tuesday afternoon and life continued as normal.

    When snow settles in the Bristol area, it does something unique that’s not repeated elsewhere in the country or in the English-speaking world (to the best of my knowledge. Ed.): it pitches. When it’s snowing, Bristolians have been known to confuse people from elsewhere simply by asking, “Is it pitching?”

    Chambers 21st Century Dictionary defines the verb to pitch as follows:

    pitch verb (pitches, pitched, pitching) 1 to set up (a tent or camp). 2 to throw or fling. 3 tr & intr to fall or make someone or something fall heavily forward. 4 intrans said of a ship: to plunge and lift alternately at bow and stern. 5 tr & intr said of a roof: to slope • is pitched at a steep angle. 6 to give a particular musical pitch to (one’s voice or a note) in singing or playing, or to set (a song, etc.) at a higher or lower level within a possible range • The tune is pitched too high for me. 7 to choose a level, e.g. of difficulty, sophistication, etc. at which to present (a talk, etc.) • was pitched too low for this audience. 8 a cricket to bowl (the ball) so that it lands where the batsman can hit it; b golf to hit (the ball) high and gently, so that it stays where it is on landing; c tr & intr, baseball said of the pitcher (sense 1): to throw the ball overarm or underarm to the person batting. 9 to pave (a road) with stones set on end or on edge.

    Out of these possible definitions, from whence could this bit of Bristolian dialect come? Sense 9 above, i.e. paving in the sense of covering something over, seems a strong possibility.

    In addition, users of the WordReference Forum have also discussed what snow does when it settles, including pitching in Bristol. In this thread, one user, Loob, suggests that Bristol’s pitching could have originated from Somerset since Somerset dialect for to lie is to pitch.

    Pitch itself comes from the 13th century Middle English verb picchen, meaning to throw or put up.

    One final point: whatever snow does where you are – pitch, settle,lie or anything else – don’t forget to let your inner child enjoy it!

  • A government of snollygosters

    I’ve just finished reading Utopia by Sir Thomas More (1478-1535).

    Utopia contrasts the contentious social life of European states with the perfectly orderly, reasonable social arrangements of Utopia and its environs (Tallstoria, Nolandia and Aircastle). In Utopia, with communal ownership of land, private property does not exist, men and women are educated alike and there is almost complete religious toleration.

    Woodcut by Ambrosius Holbein for the 1518 edition of Thomas More's Utopia
    Woodcut by Ambrosius Holbein for the 1518 edition of Thomas More’s Utopia. Picture courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

    One passage in the final chapter (entitled ‘Of the religions of the Utopians’) in particular struck a chord with me. It’s reproduced below.

    Therefore I must say that, as I hope for mercy, I can have no other notion of all the other governments that I see or know, than that they are a conspiracy of the rich, who, on pretence of managing the public, only pursue their private ends, and devise all the ways and arts they can find out; first, that they may, without danger, preserve all that they have so ill-acquired, and then, that they may engage the poor to toil and labour for them at as low rates as possible, and oppress them as much as they please; and if they can but prevail to get these contrivances established by the show of public authority, which is considered as the representative of the whole people, then they are accounted laws; yet these wicked men, after they have, by a most insatiable covetousness, divided that among themselves with which all the rest might have been well supplied, are far from that happiness that is enjoyed among the Utopians…

    Did Thomas More foresee the present UK government and its failed austerity policy? Hardly likely, but his words still have a ring of truth to them, which tells me that very little has changed in in general in governments since More’s time six centuries ago, apart from the introduction and gradual widening of the franchise to give the snollygosters an air of democratic respectability.

    In case you’re wondering, a snollygoster is a person, especially a politician, who is guided by personal advantage rather than by consistent, respectable principles. As a word, it originated in the fast-expanding USA of the nineteenth century.

    More’s Utopia is available for free in various formats from Project Gutenberg (posts passim).

  • Forbidden food

    Throughout human history there has always been forbidden food – the fruit of the tree of knowledge in the Old Testament, the various dietary restrictions imposed upon devotees by religion (e.g. kosher, halal, etc.) and the like.

    In addition to these there are other prohibitions imposed by other considerations, such as the cost of getting something to market. Other factors include whether something is (or is regarded as) a local speciality and is hence doesn’t travel – or not very far anyway. One such English local speciality is not available as far south as Bristol*, although it does travel north into Lancashire (it’s available in Sainsbury’s in Darwen by Blackburn. Ed.); and that’s the North Staffordshire oatcake.

    Staffordshire oatcake before filling
    North Staffordshire Oatcake awaiting filling

    According to Wikipedia, a North Staffordshire oatcake is a type of pancake made from oatmeal, flour and yeast. It’s cooked on a griddle or ‘baxton’. The oatcake is a local speciality in the North Staffordshire area of England. They are normally referred to as Staffordshire oatcakes or possibly Potteries oatcakes by non-locals, because they were made in this area. In and around Staffordshire and Cheshire they are often simply known as oatcakes.

    North Staffordshire exiles are fortunate that they can now order this local delicacy online from such companies as Newcastle’s North Staffs Oatcakes Ltd and Biddulph’s Povey’s Oatcakes, to name but two.

    As regards the location of oatcake shops in the Potteries and surrounding area, My Tunstall has helpfully provided an oatcake shops map. Earlier this year, a legendary oatcake shop, the Hole in the Wall closed due to a council compulsory purchase order. It was so called because the oatcakes were served to customers in the street via the front window and Stoke City Council should hang its head in shame at its destruction of the area’s heritage. Vic, my late stepfather, used to buy his oatcakes at the Hole in the Wall.

    The furthest recorded oatcake shop from the banks of the Trent can be found in Auckland, New Zealand, where an expatriate Leek resident has set up business.

    My oatcakes were bought from TJ Oatcakes & Sandwich Bar of 589 Leek Road, Hanley, ST1 3HD (map), just a short walk down the hill from my mother’s place. At TJ’s the oatcakes come in half dozen packs and are packaged in unbranded, anonymous clear plastic bags.

    Turning to the oatcake’s history, the oatcake is believed to date back to at least the 17th century when the oatcake was the staple diet of North Staffordshire people. It is thought that due to long hard winters, farmers grew oats instead wheat; the farmers’ wives would then bake the milled flour mixture on a bakestone for family members and farm workers. At that time oatcakes were quite likely to be eaten with lard, fat or cheese. During the 19th Century a cottage industry sprang up, with oatcake makers often making more than was needed and taking them in baskets to sell in the markets and streets. In the 20th century the more successful bakers built brickrooms in their yards in which to bake oatcakes from. Their front rooms would then serve as the the shop front, selling oatcakes through the sash windows, as in the Hole in the Wall above.

    Oatcakes are traditionally served with fillings such as cheese, tomato, onion, bacon, sausage and egg, plus brown or tomato sauce. They can also be eaten with sweet fillings such as golden syrup, jam or banana, but this is less common and is frowned upon by traditionalists. Mine were consumed in traditional manner, but with mushrooms added to the sausage/bacon filling. 🙂

    * = If anyone does find anywhere in Bristol selling North Staffordshire oatcakes, please let me know. Thanks!

  • Crapita lives up to its name – again

    Yesterday’s Daily Mirror reports that Birmingham City Council‘s new £11 mn. automated telephone system, which features computerised speech recognition technology, is a massive failure for the simple reason that it cannot cope with the local Brummie accent.

    Hundreds of locals have complained they are unable to get through to council services, such as the rent arrears department. To add insult to injury, when callers encounter difficulties, the recorded voice of a woman with a Geordie accent tells them: “I can’t understand that, could you please repeat it?”

    Victoria Square, Birmingham, with the city council headquarters. Picture courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

    Indeed the system is so abysmal that each call is costing the city council – the UK’s largest local authority – the equivalent of £4.

    Last year the council axed its call centre, which used to employ 55 people and contracted Capita IT Services (whose home page reads: “Capable. Our experts are able to create improved business performance with our customers”. Ed.) to supply the new, unusable system.

    Could this be a sister company of Capita Translation and Interpreting, the outfit responsible for the court interpreting fiasco (posts passim)?

  • Sir Humphrey’s newly banned words

    The British Government has just updated its style guide for content written on the .gov.uk domain. It covers all aspects of writing material, including tone of voice, use of plain English, avoidance of Americanisms and the like.

    However, my eye was inevitably drawn to the proscribed bits and the style differences for Inside Government, i.e. when government department talks to government department, and in particular its section 4.1.3, entitled “Words to avoid”.

    For the benefit of passing mandarins and interested citizens, these are reproduced below, along with comment, both Sir Humphrey’s (in round brackets) and mine [in square brackets with the text in italics]:

    • agenda (unless it is for a meeting)
    • advancing
    • collaborate (use ‘working with’)
    • combating
    • countering
    • deliver (pizzas, post and services are delivered – not abstract concepts like ‘improvements’ or ‘priorities’) [I must part ways with Sir Humphrey here; services are provided, not delivered]
    • dialogue (we speak to people)
    • disincentivise [bravo!]
    • drive out (unless it is cattle)
    • empower [about time]
    • facilitate (instead, say something concrete about how you are helping)
    • focusing
    • foster (unless it is children)
    • impact (as a verb) [hallelujah!]
    • initiate
    • key (unless it unlocks something. A subject/thing isn’t ‘key’ – it’s probably ‘important’)
    • land (as a verb. Only use if you are talking about aircraft)
    • leverage (unless in the financial sense)
    • liaise [a very useful word for something non-commital, but a common spelling trap for the unwary 🙂 ]
    • overarching
    • promote (unless you are talking about an ad campaign or something)
    • robust [sometimes tough love is required]
    • slimming down (weight loss is slimming down. Everything else is probably removing x amount of paperwork, etc.)
    • streamline
    • strengthening (unless it is strengthening bridges or other structures)
    • tackling (unless it is rugby, football, some other sport)
    • transforming (what are you actually doing to change it)
    • utilise

    The banning of these words is justified as follows:

    We lose trust from our users if we write government ‘buzzwords’ and jargon. Often, these words are too general and vague and can lead to misinterpretation or empty, meaningless text. We need to be concrete, use plain English and be very clear about what we are doing.

    Will this result in more comprehensible communication from government? Only time will tell.

  • Gert lush

    The story that the fair city of Bristol is to see the roll-out of 4G mobile access has not escaped the eagle eyes of The Daily Mash, as the screenshot below shows.

    Screenshot of Daily Mash news piece

    4G is shorthand for the fourth generation of mobile telecommunications standards and the successor to third generation (3G) standards.

    Urban Dictionary defines ‘gert lush’ as: “The highest form of praise that can be given to anything by a Bristolian.”

    Proper job, says I. 😉

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