Someone kick me

Last year I was on holiday in North Wales and on a bus from Bangor to Caernarfon.

The bus was quite full, and I was seated next to a friendly middle-aged chap who initiated a conversation. (He had a sort of “neutral” accent, so I couldn’t tell whether he was Welsh or not). He was one of those type of people who tell you their life history, and in no time I knew that he was originally from SE London/Kent borders, had lived in Bangor for just under 20 years, and was now on his way to Caernarfon for a doctor’s appointment.

Said I (in English) “Wow, 20 years in Wales!” And then, “Wyt ti’n siarad Cymraeg?”. “No, I’m afraid not”, he replied. “That was very impressive”. “What was?” I asked. “Speaking to me in Welsh”, he said. “Thank you”, I replied. “But I used less than half a dozen words”. “Well”, he said, “That’s half a dozen more than I can speak”.

I found it quite incredible that someone who had lived in Wales for this long could still be totally monolingual! I mean, if he’d been living in a highly Anglicised area like, say, Monmouthshire, his monolingualism might have been understandable (if not excusable). But BANGOR…!! - do people like this go around with their ears and minds shut?

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Unfortunately it happens. I’ve spoken to (a small amount of) people who’ve moved into Welsh speaking areas and despite living there for even 40 years still can’t correctly pronounce the name of their own village (and see nothing offensive in that at all). It is sad.
Having said that, some of these long-resident non-Welsh-speakers often understand a fair bit - they just can’t/won’t/don’t speak it for a variety of reasons.

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It was interesting to me that the whole episode made me feel at odds - I didn’t want to make this lady feel uncomfortable by asking - and isn’t that a strange reaction? Why should it? Actually it was me that felt uncomfortable.
The first time that I learnt Welsh was at university, and the Welsh was geared to all the things that seem to be common to classroom learning - translation, grammar, literature, history, melting brains. We were encouraged to speak in certain circumstances, but I remember it feeling like a very different language to the one I would hear out in the town (why didn’t I ever point that out to my tutors and ask why???). I felt that even though I had done backflips to get there and study the language I loved, I still wouldn’t be able to speak it to real people. It was just beyond me. When I think of how ashamed I felt, and how I wanted to belong there, but clearly felt I didn’t (although the people who lived there were kind and welcoming, whatever language you used).
I’m wondering if all those feelings bubbled up to the surface in that one split second when I considered asking if someone spoke Welsh.
I consider SSIW my second go at learning Welsh. This time I will happily be a learner, and happily make mistakes. I will admit to it all IN WELSH too! And next time I meet an acen hyfryd in a graveyard, I will comment on it and ask if its owner does indeed siarad Cymraeg. :relieved:

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:laughing: This made me laugh out loud.

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During WW2, my ‘Auntie’s’ brother went north for some sort of war work open to pacifists. He did fire-watching at night and met a lady from Gwynedd. Love blossomed. Unfortunate, as he had a wife in Swansea and his family (strict Methodists) while approving of pacifism, did not take well to adultery! Baban on the way, divorce and never back south for him!
He and wife went to live, post War, near Caernarfon. If she spoke Welsh, I never heard her. He certainly never learned. His children and her’s (she had a divorce too) went to schools such that John learned Latin in Welsh, as he put it!!
I never asked why Auntie’s elder brother had never learned Welsh. That generation just didn’t!! Even in the English speaking south, folk tried to sound English! cf Dylan Thomas!!

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I was just looking up the details of where my great grandfather came from and he was a fire-watcher too!
By the time we get to his children’s generation, the Welsh connection is being played down. My Nan (his daughter-in-law) denied all knowledge of any such thing (apart from an eccentric aunt in Pembrokeshire who-we-don’t-talk-about). She was the most shocked of all that I wanted to speak Welsh, and I think a little offended that my heart wasn’t as firmly in Scotland as hers. [quote=“henddraig, post:22, topic:8355”]
That generation just didn’t!!
[/quote]

:unamused: Makes it all a little harder for us to get it back!
But it’s an amazing journey to get there (when I finally do…).:grin:

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My very English grandfather who my poor dead Nain had married, was actually proud of a Scottish granny! Yet he kept my dad and his sisters from ever even seeing his Welsh Mam-gu, Tad-cu and any other relations - and I do not think it was his wife’s doing. She was a bitter, unhappy woman, told to marry him because she was too plain to attract a suitable husband, told to look after him and his children (enthusiasm for task not required!) But my dad was raised unhappy that he’d been kept from his mother’s family, but seeing Welsh as bad, beng Welsh as almost shameful! I take great delight in my personal claim for descent from Cymraes on both sides!

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My Dad was a fire-watcher in London during WW2. He’d wanted to join the RN, but was rejected because of his imperfect eyesight. He’d therefore planned to join the Merchant Navy, but before he could do so was involved in an air raid. Details are sketchy and he rarely talked about it, but the upshot was he was “shell-shocked” (or what we’d call PTSD now probably), and that put paid to any form of active service. He went back up north to live & help out on the farm and eventually resumed working in butchery (which was actually a reserved occupation at the time).

Curiously, so my Mam has told me, he was itching to get back to London during his time back up north, before they got married and moved down south (although not to London).

@henddraig - What a sad existence for her!
I definitely had the sense that the Welsh portion of our lot was considered shameful in some way.

I’ve always wondered if my nana (Scottish) had ‘englished up’, not only to play down the husband from the valleys, but to fit in with her new life as a housekeeper to a very English vicar after she was widowed. She was always quietly proud of her ancestry though, and that was the difference.
@mikeellwood - it took a very long time to get my stepfather to comfortably reveal details about what happened to him in WW2. There must be a whole generation of swallowed stories, and shame absorbed. I never considered how dangerous it might be to be a fire-watcher, but of course it was left to those who were too old or infirm to go and do ‘proper’ fighting. Sobering thought.
My great grandfather and my grandfather both died within a short space of time, and any stories of their lives and family in Wales stopped there.

Oh Cat! Your poor Granddad! My Mam’s dad was a Royal Marine. He fought at Gallipoli in WW1 and had retired by 1939. As soon as war was declared, he rushed to rejoin! He was told, “You did your bit! You were a Marine all your working life, including the Great War. Go and look after yourself.” or words to that effect. Furious, muttering about being not wanted, he refused to join the Civil Defence or ARP. However, totally unofficially, he joined fire watchers in all the most dangerous locations. As far as I can make out, they kind of slid him on to their lists so they knew where he was, but he never wore an arm band! Mmm… maybe I get some of my pig-headedness from him?

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Good for you - some of my best decisions ever have been down to stubbornness! I’m going to revel in my stubbornness well into old-ladyhood (which is closer than it was!).

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I got there already (75), well, not sure about the ‘lady’ part!

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I say ‘hello’ but in the Welsh way with the short ‘o’. If someone is a Welsh speaker they will usually respond then in Welsh. Or I just ask them in Welsh if they speak Welsh!

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I haven’t mastered anything other than my usual hello with a West Country burr. I think my Welsh accent is probably ok, but my English accent applies itself to all words it thinks it owns! I’m a bit worried that if I adopted the Welsh hylo, I might go overboard and people might think I’m taking the mickey!

:wink:

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Where I live there are a lot of Mexican immigrants and I run into that when I try to speak Spanish. Frequently they ARE uneducated (most of them are farm workers), but it’s still a matter of pride for them to use what English they have.

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Sorry that I’m catching up with old posts -
Anyway, I admit to being guilty of this with English place names especially with an a in them. For some reason I struggle to call Bath “Barth” although I do try. Come to think of it, after nearly 60 years, I still haven’t got(ten) into the habit of pronouncing my home town of Newcastle as it should be: “NyuCASSel”

Edit: Also the village of Wall, pronounced “Wal” the Welsh way.

At least both of those are closer to their correct pronounciations than Poo-el-ee is to Pwllheli! :slight_smile:

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While I understand the desire to pronounce place names in the local fashion, there seems to be an odd particularity.

For instance, it seems to be a matter of pride that people referring to Newcastle upon Tyne (where I have lived) to put a short ‘a’ in ‘castle’.

On the other hand, I have also lived near Chatham in Kent. The locals pronounce it Cha’am, with a huge glottal stop. I have never heard people corrected for pronouncing it ‘Chatham’. (Similarly Gillingham in Kent is pronounce Jillin’um - not to be confused with Gill-ing-ham in the West of England, Sittingbourne as Sih’in’bourne and Sheppey as She’ey by the the locals.)

That’s without going to West Kent where Teston is correctly pronounced ‘Teeson’ and Wrotham as ‘Rootham’, Loose as ‘Lews’, Crouch as ‘Crooch’ and Malling as ‘Mawling’. In those places you will be corrected for mis-pronouncing it. (Or laughed at from behind a finely gloved hand - they are quite posh.)

So I do have sympathy with someone who cannot pronounce their village’s name after 40 years.

All I can say is that it is lucky that English doesn’t have mutations, or it would be difficult to learn (sic.).

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7 posts were split to a new topic: Mutations in English (moved from Someone kick me)