Quite often, people use familiar Gaelic expressions without thinking about the story behind them. Over the coming months, we’ll look at some of these.

There might be different opinions about the expressions because all we have is what we’ve heard from other people. As they say about folklore, “If it’s a lie to me, it’s a lie from me!”

Nothing would please us more than if you would let us know if you have alternative interpretations of the expressions. If we’re wrong, correct us!

Even better, you could send us other interesting expressions with explanations—especially if they’re funny. “Laughter is the best medicine!”

If you’re not comfortable writing in Gaelic, let us know and we’ll find someone to record your contribution.

Here’s the first expression then:

“Everything in its rightful place and the chamber pot on the dresser.”

In times past, young women would follow the herring fishing. They would leave home with large wooden chests full of clothes and personal belongings they valued most  in a small drawer inside the chest. This drawer was called a “seotal.”

When the herring girls were in Inverurie, Buckie, Lowestoft or Yarmouth, they would buy many things to bring home at the end of the season. The chests would be overflowing with glassware, dishes, linens and other trinkets.

The night the girls came off ‘the steamer’ was a time of great excitement and anticipation. Mothers would clean their homes from top to bottom for the occasion. Once the girls arrived home, all the treasures in the chests would be spread out in the kitchen and the village women would come by to visit and more importantly, to view the wares. Since there were no bathrooms at the time, the young women often brought home colourfully decorated chamber pots. Given their importance, it was no surprise that the chamber pot was placed prominently in the middle of the dresser, where everyone could see it!

That, then, is where this peculiar expression, which describes a particularly tidy space, comes from.

The English equivalent is, “Ship shape and Bristol fashion.”

Historically, Bristol was a port known for its significant tidal range. When approaching from the sea, sailors would have to tidy and secure everything on board the ships, as it would keel over when the tide went out. If you were sailing into Bristol, you had to ensure everything was in its place—and your chamber pot was tied to the dresser or wherever it was stored!

As they used to say, “You’ll get the end of every tale for free!”

Fool, idiot, dunce, blockhead, simpleton, dolt!
How often have we heard those words, whether about ourselves or others?

They were all used to describe someone who wasn’t considered particularly clever. As another idioms would have it, those people were “a groat short of a shilling” or “not quite all there!”

Gaelic speakers had no concept of “political correctness” or “woke culture” when such expressions were commonly used.

Though those words might seem somewhat humorous today, there was another common expression from long ago that should give us pause for reflection: “The fool behind the partition.”

Nowadays, people with epilepsy, mental illness, or physical disabilities are part of normal life in schools, workplaces, and public spaces. They live relatively ordinary lives. It wasn’t always thus!

In past centuries, when there was little understanding of what caused such conditions, those afflicted were often a source of shame for their families and hidden away from the public gaze. When villagers came to visit, individuals who weren’t quite “right” were kept behind the partition, or the “dividing wall,” which separated the main room with the fire from the rest of the house. That’s where the expression “The fool behind the partition” originated.

There’s a story about a young lady who brought home a dashing lad for the first time. As the boyfriend didn’t speak Gaelic, the family decided to confine the girl’s brother, who wasn’t that fluent in English and who ‘wasn’t quite right in the head’, behind the partition with some food and a cup of tea. He was warned to stay quiet and not show himself while his sister’s suitor was in the house, for the sake of everyone’s dignity. When the boyfriend arrived, the family gathered around the kitchen table. The best of everything was laid out before them and the meal commenced with due airs and graces.

After a while, a loud voice rang out from behind the partition, declaring, “Another piece, or I’ll appear!”

As the Gaelic saying goes, “Woe to the ones who won’t feed the needy!”

The boy wasn’t quite as foolish as they thought!

"Clothes Make the Man!"

If you haven’t yet visited the Taigh Cèilidh (the Cèilidh House), the new café on Church Street in Stornoway, it’s well worth doing so. A warm, stylish place! You’ll seldom darken its door without meeting islanders, and quite often strangers from all corners of the world. Unlike other places of its kind, you won’t be there long before you’re chatting with whoever’s beside you, just as if you were sitting by the fire at home. Initially, I had my doubts that things would work out like this when I heard about a “Gaelic café” opening in Stornoway, but I’m more than happy to admit that I was completely wrong!

I met an old acquaintance at the café last week. While we were chatting, she used the phrase “He took his plaid from the village!”—referring to someone who left for the mainland in a great hurry, with little more than the clothes on his back.

A breacan (plaid in English) was what the Gaels used to wear long ago when they were fighting, fleeing, or travelling long distances. The breacan would keep the rain off them as they could wrap it around their head and sleep under it in the heather. I suppose the modern equivalent would be a bivouac bag.

I hadn’t heard that phrase in many years, and it got me thinking about other sayings related to clothing.

If a man moved into his wife’s family home and didn’t have to build a house of his own, people would say, “He went in and hung up his bonnet.”

If someone was arguing with someone of higher status and refused to back down, people would say, “He didn’t lower his bonnet to him.” Taking off your bonnet was always a sign of respect and deference.

If someone made full use of something, people would say, “He made a jacket out of it,” no matter what it was that was being spoken about. It was often used in relation to eating large quantities of food.

As for someone overly fond of alcohol, people would say, “He’d drink his shirt!”

I don’t need to elaborate too much on “letting out of your trousers.” Suffice to say that it refers to people rushing to the ditch, the barn, or behind a hillock, in a great hurry for...well, you know!

If someone was up early and already hard at work, a passerby might say, “You’re up and shaken your shirt already.” That was the first thing you’d do long ago on getting out of bed. Nightshirts had to be shaken to get rid of lice and bedbugs! The good old days—not!!!

But that’s exactly what I’ll have to do early tomorrow morning, as some of my sheep are yet to lamb!

"Don't Skin the Deer Unless You Can Catch It!"

"A deer from the hillside, a trout from the pool, and a rod from the woods; three thefts no Gael ever felt shame for."

So says the proverb, and I believe it was as true for the people of Back as for other Gaels. Why wouldn’t it be? Poaching was never considered to be ‘theft’ by the wider community. Long ago, hunger often drove people to venture out with a gun or net. If a forest had been nearby, I’m sure they’d have gone out with a saw and axe as well.

Since crofting was properly established in the area after the First World War, deer have rarely been seen on cultivated land in the villages—until quite recently. The abundance of people, dogs, sheep, cattle, fences and the many guns in people's hands meant that the deer were either hunted or driven deep into the moorlands.

This has changed in recent years, with deer appearing on every type of land and in tree plantations throughout the area. Even more troubling is their fondness for gardens! They can cause extensive damage in a short time. Furthermore, deer pose a real hazard in Glen Dubh or on the moors between Gress and Tolsta during the dark winter nights.

Isn’t it strange that a wild animal like a deer, which belongs to no one, becomes the landlord's property if you hit it with your car but if you are caught with a dead one in the back of your van, it’s considered a crime? "The law is as crooked as it is straight," as the Gaelic proverb says.

When the deer disappeared from the area, much of the vocabulary associated with them vanished too. Isn’t the same thing happening now with peats? With less and less peat being cut, most people no longer need words like barr-fhad (surface layer), corr-fhad (long sod), caoran (small piece), smùr (fine layer), ceap (sod), riachdadh (preparing for cutting), sgaoilteach (scattered sods), rudhadh (reddening process), stèidheadh (stacking), or even common words like cruach (stack) and luatha (ashes).

If the deer are returning, perhaps we should revisit some of the terms our ancestors were so familiar with. Here’s a selection:

• laogh / isean fèidh: a young deer, male or female, under one year old

• mang: a male deer two years old

• cnochdach: a male deer three years old

• stobairneach: a male deer four years old

• damh cabrach: a male deer five years old

• làn damh: a fully mature male deer, six years old

• grioch / eilid: a female deer over one year old

• cròic / cabar: antler

• sealg: hunting a deer with a gun

• sitheann: venison (deer meat)

• greallach: removing the entrails of a deer after killing it

• nuallan, bùirean, langan: sounds made by stags

• dàmhair: the rutting season

If you remember any words, expressions, or stories about deer or poaching from the area that are no longer commonly heard, please contact us at the Historical Society (info@cebac.org).

It would be a real loss if they were forgotten.

The End of the Peatstack

"The End of the Peatstack

"He said to me at the back of the garden,
He said to me at the end of the stack,
He said to me at the back of the garden,
Careful, my love, that you don’t catch a chill!"

There would be little flirting or romancing going on now-a-days, if young couples were forced to meeting behind peatstacks!

It is hard to believe, but even in the village of Gress, where it was once customary for each and every house to have a peatstack adjacent to it, you now only see one small stack at Uilleam Tòthan’s. There are a few other residents who cut peat but who put it into sheds as soon as it dries, but Uilleam still keeps to the old custom by taking the trouble to make a neat stack to keep the winter fuel dry.

With how rare it has become to see proper stacks these days, it is no surprise that there was an exhibition about the art of stacking in An Lanntair a few years ago. What used to be so common as to not even merit a second glance now appears in art galleries. What would the old men think? As the saying goes, "Change days for the man of the moor!"

When work customs disappear, so do the words associated with them. Here is a list of vocabulary related to peat work. It might be interesting to go through this list with someone from a generation older or younger than yourself to get an idea of how things have changed.

Those of you who are older will be familiar with many of these words. If you have other interesting words about peat that are used in the area but don’t appear on this list, please send an email to the Comunn Eachdraidh (info@cebac.org).

With the volatility of oil prices and climate change, people may need to revert to cutting peats at some point in the future. Knowing the traditional vocabulary might not be a bad thing!

Vocabulary list:

• Fàd –  peat (full size)

• Caoran – small lump of peat

• Smùr – dross

• Riasg – peat moss

• Ath-bhlàr – a second harvest area

• Carcaire – surface below top turf

• Còrr-fhàd – half-sized peat

• Bàrr-fhàd – top peat

• Sgrath / Ceap – turf / sod

• Spoth a’ cheap – flipping the turf

• Riachdadh – lining the turf on the bank

• Feannadh / Rùsgadh – removing the top turf

• Sgaoilteach – drying area

• A’ sgaoileadh – spreading out

• A’ sadail – throwing out

• Rùdhadh – making small, upright bundles of peat

• Rùdhan – small, upright bundle of peat

• Cruach – Stack (of peat)

• Gàrradh – wall of drying peats

• Grabhag – very short bank

• Rathad an isein – narrow space between edge of bank and peats laid out to dry

• Broinn a’ phuill – lower level of bog

• Poll-mònadh – peatbog

• Togail – lifting peats upright for drying purposes

• Stèidheadh – stacking peats in a secure manner

• Tàirisgeir – peat iron

• Sgian – blade of peat iron

• Smeachan – step of peat iron

• Glanadh – cleaning the top surface of the bank in preparation for cutting

• Uachdar a’ phuill – surface of the bank

• Aghaidh a’ phuill – vertical cut surface of peatbog

• Ath-rùdhadh – re-stacking of peat bundles into slightly larger ones

• Togail na mònadh – lifting of peats into small bundles

• Tasgadh – banking the fire to last the night

Putting the Dimmers on the Colours!

I started thinking about the meaning of the phrase "putting dimmers on the colours" the other evening. If you're doing that, it means you are not confident or happy with your way of thinking or that you are prone to negativity.

This led me to wonder about other phrases related to colour that were commonly used in everyday Gaelic but are not often heard today.

Here are some of them:

• White days: A happy, innocent time. Usually used in relation to a person’s youth. "White Days" was the name given by HMIE Murchadh Aonghais Cheanaidh (12 Gress) to the book he wrote, and many of us were familiar with it as a reading book in primary school. Those were the "white days."

• "It’s yellow for you":  Yellow was the colour associated with happiness so if you were going on holiday, a person who was slightly jealous might say, “Isn’t that yellow for you,” meaning aren’t you the lucky one.

• "Put the blue house on you": Get out to the wide blue yonder.

• "Making for blue": To go to a distant place.

• Red: To emphasise a point. "The red rage was on my father." "He’s a red fool, that man." "Nicotine is just the red poison."

• Black: Used in a similar way. "They were black in their criticism of me."

• "The black hole will burn you": You’ll get your just deserts.

• "It was black to him": He hated it.

• "He was quite brown": He was drunk. He was as brown as a dogfish.

• "You’ve made me grey": You’ve exasperated me.

• "He put yellow on him": He was scunnered of him (jaundice).

There are plenty of challenges when it comes to learning Gaelic, and the strange ways in which words like “grey,” “blue,” “green,” and “yellow” are used make things even more complicated! Try explaining to learners why we say someone has " light blue hair" when you can clearly see with your eyes that it’s actually white or grey. We often refer to grass as "blue”.  Doesn't the name Glasgow mean "dear green place" but glas also grey? We’re not alone in complicating colours because the Irish use "green" for yellow and "blue" means "green" in Welsh. If you can explain that, you're more capable than I am!

Red / ginger hair was always a sign of a fiery temperament, and you would be wise to heed the old saying: "Don’t go between the red haired woman and the rock."

If any expressions, proverbs, or stories related to colour and associated with the area come to mind, don’t hesitate to contact info@cebac.org and the information will be added to the lists we’re gathering. It may well be of use to someone, some day.

Gress Cemetery

Recently, Seumas Bommy and Iain Nèill Ailig have been seen in the cemetery more frequently than Burke and Hare were in their prime.

But don’t worry, there is nothing sinister about their behaviour, as they are diligently working on recording the graves. Soon, a wealth of social and historical information related to the area will be available on the Historical Society’s website, which will be an interesting and useful resource. They have recorded 3,000 graves from 1925 to the present day and will continue working backward through the years over the coming months.

The word “Griais” means a burial place in the Old Norse language. In prehistoric times, it seems that a “barpa” (stone cairn) like Càrn a’ Mharc which is to be found in the middle of the moor on the northern side of the River Gress, is where bodies were buried. However, a more familiar type of cemetery has been located on the Gress plain since the Spanish Civil War or the Battle of the Hounds — though which of these occurred first is unclear.

The location of the cemetery in the area is somewhat unusual because, typically, land was so precious that graves would be dug in rocky, hard-to-work areas. You only need to look at old cemeteries such as those in Hùisinis, Losgantir, or Sòbhal to see examples of this.

Because the depth of soil in such areas was so shallow, bodies would be placed on top of each other, with turf from the moor brought in to cover each layer. Over time, the earth would rise, and a mound would form in the cemetery. It is for this reason that the word “tòrradh” (to heap or pile) is used instead of “tiodhlacadh” (burial) or “adhlacadh” (placing under / laying to rest). I suspect that many people were buried, in layers, on top of each other in the mound in front of St Aula’s in Gress cemetery.

Look carefully at the old cemeteries, and you will notice that the axis of graves runs from east to west. This is, in part, related to how people once worshipped the sun and were buried so as to rise facing east. Christians maintained this practice. One burial lair in Gress cemetery runs from north to south, as Reverend McMaster, a minister in the area, tried to change the practice when he buried two of his children. Clearly, no one followed his example.

Despite long standing customs, we saw how quickly things can change during the Covid crisis, with terms like "giùlain" (carrying) and “taighean-faire” (wakes) disappearing. It is good that things have returned to normal, and people are once again allowed to follow the bier (eileadram) – a unique custom that conveys poignancy and respect like no other. But with fewer people speaking Gaelic in our community, there is a risk that the words related to those customs will be forgotten. It would be wise to record these words and practices as well, so that they are available online along with the information Seumas and Iain have gathered about the cemetery.

Say it!

If I was told a yarn, I’m spinning a yarn!
So says any good story teller, to cover his back!

At this time of year when nights were long and dark and there was no television or internet, people had to create their own entertainment. As the song goes,

The harsh months of winter,
Weren’t without fun and games
A while for playing, a while for dancing,
A while for singing and music.

Telling funny stories was a big part of entertainment and socializing. Here are a couple of them.

Foreign Mission!
A new missionary from Lewis was sent to a congregation in Harris at one point.
On his first day in the new role, he went out for a walk to meet the local people.
It wasn’t long before he noticed an old man, busy working with a spade in a well-kept stone walled  garden in which he was growing leeks, cabbage, turnips, and such like.
“Well, good man,” said the missionary, “aren’t you and the Creator doing a grand job in the garden?”
“Indeed, we are, Missionary,” said the old man, “but the garden wasn’t in great shape when the Creator had it for Himself!”

Famous last words

There was an old man named Murchadh who was famous for being very, very mean.
He grew sick and was in bed in the closet, behind the kitchen.
The room was dark, the curtains were closed, the door slightly open, and the family gathered around the bed, waiting for the end to come.
The old man raised his hand weakly, smiled and beckoned to the family to come closer.
They did so, waiting for his last comforting words.
The old man opened his eyes and said in a faint voice,
“Is that you, Mary?”
“Yes, a Mhurchadh, I’ m here?” his wife answered.
“Is my daughter Anna here?” he asked.
“I here as well, father,” answered Anna.
“Where is my son, Donald?” Murchadh asked.
“I am here too,” said Donald.
“Why on earth is the kitchen light on then?” cried the old man as his head dropped onto the pillow.
As I said, If I was told a yarn, I’m spinning a yarn!

‘AI’

Do you remember what the letters ‘AI’ used to mean for crofters in Back district, and especially to their cattle, in the 1980s and 1990s?

It was of course when the late Charlie Clark, with his green wellies and reproductive technology, replaced the Bord of Agriculture bull.

As Red, the Point bàrd, said:

"That bull came sitting in a carriage,
Without horns, or tail, not a hair growing;
If he had a ring in his nose, I do not recall—
Until I see his calves, my mind won’t be at peace."

If AI (Artificial Insemination) was amazing to old men and women back then, the AI (Artificial Intelligence) which we talk about today is just as difficult for us to understand. I suspect there aren’t many in the district who make much sense of it, except for Donald (Sealgair) MacDonald, who does his best to explain all sorts of technological innovations to us on Radio nan Gàidheal on a regular basis.

Why am I discussing this topic?

Well, because AI has even had an impact on the very thing I am involved in right now. Last night, I got a message from Jayne (Editor of LATN) saying she had run the Gaelic columns published in LATN through some sort of AI translation tool to convert them into English. She wanted me to review them before they were published on the website.

Well, I have to admit that AI’s understanding of Harris Gaelic wasn’t too bad. It made a good effort at translating individual words, and most of the information was understandable. The grammar and spelling were remarkably accurate, and a task that would usually be time consuming was done in the blink of an eye.

In a few instances, however, where local expressions and traditional phrases were used, AI completely missed the mark. It was clear it had no understanding of humour, peat-cutting, or arguing. Idioms like “fada na do cheann fhèin” (stubborn), “seasaidh sinn air an làr” (a short visit / pop in), “nach buidhe dhut” (lucky for you) and “ag obair air a cheann fhèin” (working independently) confused it as it translated them literally as: “long in his own head,” “we’ll stand on the floor,” “isn’t it yellow to you,” and “working on his own head.”

AI is an incredible invention and it will, without doubt, continue to improve at an astonishing rate. Unfortunately, it is also a major threat to people who make their living from writing, translating, clerical work, and similar jobs because it will take over many workforce roles.

These very thoughts about AI were going through my mind the other morning when I turned on the radio. Who was speaking on Cathie Bhàn’s programme but Mairead Bheag nan Dùrachdan, choosing her favourite love song ahead of Valentine’s Day? It won’t surprise anyone from Back district that she chose A Mhàiri Bhòidheach Fhìnealta (Beautiful,Elegant Mary), a song by Dòmhnall Sheogaidh, 23 Gress, sung by his granddaughter, Marina Mardo.

After listening to the song, I wasn’t quite so impressed with or downhearted about AI. AI may be able to put words and melodies together mechanically, but when it comes to weaving longing and life stories into a song with feeling and conviction, no computer on earth can do it as well as a man in love.

There are still some things that AI can’t do as well as humans!