I was searching for an old work folder when I stumbled across a diary I kept when I was 14. I flipped through while sniggering at my ‘omg-I’m-so-in-love!’ dramatics, I caught some few local words that were part of our everyday language. Some, I don’t even remember what they mean any more.
Here it goes:
- jars = fragmented, chaotic or all over the place. Ex: “Everything’s in jars!” = “everything’s a mess!” or “my feet are on the jars” = “I feel so restless”.
- at the dot = at the moment, right now. Note: “on the dot” = on time.
- afore = before.
- kebekan (ken’ben’kay) = whatever, couldn’t care less, who cares? This is actually the corrupted English form of ge be dè (whatever, any road, wherever). I have never heard this outside our area, so I suspect it was someone’s mocking joke that somehow became the norm.
- thingie or thingies = stuff, items. Ex: “Could you get me a bag of crisps and the usual thingies from a corner shop?”
- cac = shit.
- slapag = slipper, but it’s an insult, same as ‘slapper’, ‘slut’ or ‘whore’.
- marc = horse.
‘Marcan’ for ‘horses’. - fan = found. I haven’t used this one since I was teased at uni, which completely cured me of using this word.
- standing on the shore = dying. Ex: “The second Mrs. Green is standing on the shore.” It’s related to a very old local tradition of sending a corpse off to the sea. I quite like this euphemism. I might use it again.
- be away = go. Ex: “Be away to a shop” = “I’m going to a shop in a moment” or “Be away with you!” = “Go away!”
- let her lees = literally, “she’s by herself”. This is hard to explain. Firstly, ”lees” = -self, depending on gender (e.g. woman = herself, man = himself, dog = itself, people = themselves). ‘Let’ is – however – a bit tough and misleading. It doesn’t mean allow. It’s an assertion. ‘Let’ = “as it is”. Ex: “let him on foot” = lit, “[I saw him] walking nearby” = “He took a walk nearby”. I think it came from old etiquette – when you see someone, you’re supposed to call out to alert the person you’re around. If you didn’t do this, you have to assert yourself to someone else later that what you saw is the truth. I still don’t know the origins of this etiquette, though.
- cultar = culture.
- fleyt = scared. Ex: “I fleyt Neacal near enough to make him kitter. Hahaha!” NB: fley is the word as ‘t’ is past tense. A local quirk, I think.
- ages - I completely forgot we really did use this structure when discussing ages. “Katie’s four a score, isn’t she?” (“Katie’s 24, isn’t she?”) “Yup yup, fifth notch this July.” (“Yes, she’ll be 25 this July.”) “How old is her grandma?” “Seven and four scores, eh?” (“Eighty seven, right?”) No wonder why I was a basket case most times.
- coma = not caring, so what?, I don’t want to know. Ex: “Eh, coma and all.” = “Eh, do I look as if I give a fuck?” ‘Coma‘ is a proper Gaelic word, actually.
- kitter = escape, scamper, run off. I can’t decide if it’s a misspelling of ‘skitter’ or not. I do think it’s a misspelling.
- cumhurg = I haven’t the foggiest. Ex: “[name] came a cumhurg the night afore.” = “[name] got all cumhurg last night”. Judging by the context, I think it’s ‘bad-tempered’ but I’m not even sure. Probably a misspelling.
- pit = vagina, but in the sense of ‘cunt’. Ex: “She’s a real pit!” = “She’s a real cunt!” (I’m embarrassed that I even thought of using it. Shame on me.)
- balla = wall.
- ran = shout. Probably a lazy form of ràn (shout, cry out, yell, scream, roar). Confusingly, ‘rant’ is ‘shouted’. Remember: ‘t’ is the past tense.
- lock horns = a fight. Ex: “There he goes, locking his horns with Gordon.” Also, ”don’t lock your horns” = “let it go” or “don’t hold a grudge”. I think it comes from young competitive red deer’s legendary stupidity? Sod knows.
- kip = keep (hostel). I thought it meant ‘nap’ or ‘short sleep’ until I realised I was referring to a local keep (e.g. youth hostel or rather, YHA hostel).
And you know what kills me?
I used a certain code system for some diaries entries – to prevent certain nosey relatives from reading them – but I can’t remember how this code system worked, so I have no idea what the fourteen-year-old me was rambling about. Example: “Gwxht yemokku wnoii sxju wxnpe.”
There is one entry that lasts four pages long and those are completely filled with coded words. The oddest thing is, judging by my handwriting, I seemed to have written those with ease. I must have memorised the basic keys so well that writing in that code system wasn’t a problem. Argh. Curse you, time, for erasing the basic keys from my brain.
For what it’s worth, anyhow.
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