Nice to hear from you David, howya diddling? For some reason, now that I am 70, a lot of words I grew up with, Lancashire expressions my grandparents used, have come back to me. I stopped using them as I became an adult because people would look askance, and I thought I needed to fit in. But lately, when they have risen to my lips I let them out, just for old time's sake.
So beautiful. One of the finest wordsmiths I have ever read. Magical, amazing as I sit in my tiny vacation house in the middle of an American Prairie, preparing for a family member's graduation. Maybe it was the quiet that made your words so glorious, yet I like to believe you have the gift of spellbinding writing.
Good to see you back here, David. Congratulations regarding your PhD.
Another delightful piece. If ever there was someone who could bare witness to these linguistic gems and cajole their quiet wisdom out into the light for us all to see, it is you, Sir.
We're all good, thanks. Just got back from another jaunt on the canals (hopefully more about that on my 'Stack in due course for anyone interested). Now, there's a community from that had a culture and, to some degree, language of their own.. the boat men and women from that bygone industrial age..
So good to have you back, and congratulations on your PhD. Thank you for the reminder that language is a sacred thing, something to be stewarded with care.
Ah, 'Frost box'. I remember listening to some old Afrikanner farmers referring to motorcycles as 'vroom, vroom ponies'. Making do with the words they had.
Congratulations. Dr. Knowles! And thank you for yet another treasure, to be savoured. My Aberdonian grandmother once overheard two farmers talking. Their conversation, no doubt liberally larded with silences, went thus:
"Oo?"
"Aye, oo."
"A' oo?"
"Aye, a' oo."
"A é oo?"
"Aye, a' é oo. "
(Wool? All wool? All one wool?)
Such beautiful, expressive, consonantless economy!
You timed your arrival to sweep into my blue sky with the first chimney swifts—but your chittering is richer and more various (nearly as fluent as they you are, in the wind’s languages). Nevertheless despite your lack of expectations we DO hang on your every “beautiful English” word and thank you for these observations on the power of language (which is not one little bit too long). How quiet it has been without you among us! xo
Always a joy. Such a sparse way to express my thanks, but hopefully adequate, if less than plentiful.
And sincere congratulations on your PhD, now successfully wrangled onto your bookshelf, and into literary history! A wonderful contribution to the beautiful heritage of the Irish language, I'm sure.
Sending thanks, as always, for this welcome respite from the insanity of our world, especially as it effortlessly transported me back to the beauty of Donegal, a treasured jewel of a place I visited in my childhood, and somewhere I so yearn to return to. xXx
Hi David, it finally dawned on me that you are Sharon Blackie's husband. No wonder I was drawn to your words. You are both brilliant writers. The truly valuable thing the Internet affords these days, at least in my humble opinion, is exposure to and connection with authors I would never have discovered otherwise. I just received Sharon's latest book, Ripening, and am savoring every word. I thank you both for the writings you offer.
We quietly wait, and there you are. This is a lovely piece. I have been revisiting Pitmatic, which my dad, a Durham miner, spoke. Such wonderfully descriptive words: to walk through thick mud is to plodge. There's a particular vowel sound in the dialect which I don't hear anywhere else; I imagine it is a blend of Old Norse and the version of whichever Celtic language they had up there before the Anglo-saxons arrived (not to mention the bloody Normans). You probably know the Comparative Celtic Lexicon (https://celtic.swarthmore.edu/ ) which provides the sound of spoken words - the sort of thing I can lose myself in for hours (also The Talking Dictionary which has lots of different languages to listen to). Congratulations on finishing your PhD!
Bravo David, for achieving your doctorate—a feat that would leave most of us crying into our cornflakes, or, in my case, running for the hills, with nothing but a head full of clichés it seems!
If only I had known all that was needed was to eavesdrop on the breeze!
Wait, don't go away, let me give that a try...
Eh-hem... unless I misunderstood, because of course, this is a French breeze and I still battle with the dialect here—those rolling 'R's they use in the hills are impossible phonemes to catch in one gust—I think she said 'trop tard'...
Beh, alors, tant-pis pour moi!
I think I'll just lay low in my wilderness for which, amusingly, in French there is no word at all!
Thank you my friend, this, as always is a delightful witchery of words, the guardianship of which couldn't be in more caring hands.
Nice to hear from you David, howya diddling? For some reason, now that I am 70, a lot of words I grew up with, Lancashire expressions my grandparents used, have come back to me. I stopped using them as I became an adult because people would look askance, and I thought I needed to fit in. But lately, when they have risen to my lips I let them out, just for old time's sake.
Oh, you have an image there which makes me envious - ‘letting them out’. A life of their own :-)
by the way, this thought. I still say "icebox" rather the refrigerator.
So beautiful. One of the finest wordsmiths I have ever read. Magical, amazing as I sit in my tiny vacation house in the middle of an American Prairie, preparing for a family member's graduation. Maybe it was the quiet that made your words so glorious, yet I like to believe you have the gift of spellbinding writing.
That’s very kind of you, Tricia. Congratulations tot he graduate :-)
Good to see you back here, David. Congratulations regarding your PhD.
Another delightful piece. If ever there was someone who could bare witness to these linguistic gems and cajole their quiet wisdom out into the light for us all to see, it is you, Sir.
I, for one, am grateful. Thank you.
Thanks. Good to be back, Ralph. Hope all’s well up the road there :-)
We're all good, thanks. Just got back from another jaunt on the canals (hopefully more about that on my 'Stack in due course for anyone interested). Now, there's a community from that had a culture and, to some degree, language of their own.. the boat men and women from that bygone industrial age..
Those wonderful worlds within worlds. That must be a wonderful way to spend the day.
So good to have you back, and congratulations on your PhD. Thank you for the reminder that language is a sacred thing, something to be stewarded with care.
Thanks, Carri. It is good to be back amongst friends and chatting about things I love :-)
Ah, 'Frost box'. I remember listening to some old Afrikanner farmers referring to motorcycles as 'vroom, vroom ponies'. Making do with the words they had.
Thank you again for your beautiful writing.
Hi Mike, thanks for the image. I can almost feel the heat and determination.
Treasure for the day ….to be savoured in a quiet place in my garden. Thank you very much.
Thanks, Win. That is kind.
Congratulations. Dr. Knowles! And thank you for yet another treasure, to be savoured. My Aberdonian grandmother once overheard two farmers talking. Their conversation, no doubt liberally larded with silences, went thus:
"Oo?"
"Aye, oo."
"A' oo?"
"Aye, a' oo."
"A é oo?"
"Aye, a' é oo. "
(Wool? All wool? All one wool?)
Such beautiful, expressive, consonantless economy!
Thanks, Theresa. Ah, now we’re talking proper linguistics :-)
You timed your arrival to sweep into my blue sky with the first chimney swifts—but your chittering is richer and more various (nearly as fluent as they you are, in the wind’s languages). Nevertheless despite your lack of expectations we DO hang on your every “beautiful English” word and thank you for these observations on the power of language (which is not one little bit too long). How quiet it has been without you among us! xo
Hey Carmine. Lovely to hear from you. I’d much prefer the chimney swifts to my chuntering. Hope all well with you - I have some catching up to do :-)
Always a joy. Such a sparse way to express my thanks, but hopefully adequate, if less than plentiful.
And sincere congratulations on your PhD, now successfully wrangled onto your bookshelf, and into literary history! A wonderful contribution to the beautiful heritage of the Irish language, I'm sure.
Sending thanks, as always, for this welcome respite from the insanity of our world, especially as it effortlessly transported me back to the beauty of Donegal, a treasured jewel of a place I visited in my childhood, and somewhere I so yearn to return to. xXx
Thanks so much, Fiona. Yes, once you have the smell of Donegal it never leaves you.
Such a lovely piece. Thank you for weaving this beautiful world with your words.
Thanks for taking the time, Jamie. Time is precious, I know :-)
Hi David, it finally dawned on me that you are Sharon Blackie's husband. No wonder I was drawn to your words. You are both brilliant writers. The truly valuable thing the Internet affords these days, at least in my humble opinion, is exposure to and connection with authors I would never have discovered otherwise. I just received Sharon's latest book, Ripening, and am savoring every word. I thank you both for the writings you offer.
Ha! Yes, I am proud of the title 'husband of ...' :-) She keeps me on my toes.
Another beautiful, sonorous piece, David. Well done for getting through the PhD and welcome back.
Thanks Lesley. I breakfasted on your views of the kyle to keep me going through the final edits :-)
I’m glad that they helped 😝
Good to have you back. I have missed your wonderful writing.
Lovely to be back amongst friends, Linda. Thanks for your cuckoo spit and dabchicks. Kept me going until I could reach open ground again :-)
Congratulations on getting your PhD approved! We missed you, but understand.
Thanks, Amy. Good to be back amongst friendly faces.
We quietly wait, and there you are. This is a lovely piece. I have been revisiting Pitmatic, which my dad, a Durham miner, spoke. Such wonderfully descriptive words: to walk through thick mud is to plodge. There's a particular vowel sound in the dialect which I don't hear anywhere else; I imagine it is a blend of Old Norse and the version of whichever Celtic language they had up there before the Anglo-saxons arrived (not to mention the bloody Normans). You probably know the Comparative Celtic Lexicon (https://celtic.swarthmore.edu/ ) which provides the sound of spoken words - the sort of thing I can lose myself in for hours (also The Talking Dictionary which has lots of different languages to listen to). Congratulations on finishing your PhD!
Hi Darkhorse, good to hear from you again. Especially as we are both vowel connoisseurs - a rare breed :-) Pitmatic - I am envious of such a heritage.
Bravo David, for achieving your doctorate—a feat that would leave most of us crying into our cornflakes, or, in my case, running for the hills, with nothing but a head full of clichés it seems!
If only I had known all that was needed was to eavesdrop on the breeze!
Wait, don't go away, let me give that a try...
Eh-hem... unless I misunderstood, because of course, this is a French breeze and I still battle with the dialect here—those rolling 'R's they use in the hills are impossible phonemes to catch in one gust—I think she said 'trop tard'...
Beh, alors, tant-pis pour moi!
I think I'll just lay low in my wilderness for which, amusingly, in French there is no word at all!
Thank you my friend, this, as always is a delightful witchery of words, the guardianship of which couldn't be in more caring hands.
Hi Susie, lovely to catch up again. There was plenty of crying in cornflakes, I’d have to admit. French hill ‘R’s - now I’m envious :-)