Foos yer doos?

The title of this blog post may require translation.  It means ‘how are you?’ in Doric. Translated exactly it means ‘how’s your pigeons?’ to which the standard response is ‘ay pickin’ (always picking) which really means ‘fine’.  Forgiveness is granted if you are confused already.

The inspiration for this post comes from Lindsay’s class, which was mainly about sounds of words, dialects, phonetics and speech.  I love writing in my own dialect and have my own blog, often written partially in Doric.  Being half ‘toonser‘, half ‘teuchter‘ and learning some Weegie whilst living in Glasgow has given me quite a wide vocabulary.  Life experiences, like getting invited to have a ‘square go’ for calling someone a ‘Gadgie‘ in Dundee have highlighted the subtle and at times stark differences in the collective language we call ‘Scots’.

mon then 2

Doric is not an exact language.  I have relatives from Fraserburgh, Peterhead and Aberdeen, who all speak differently.  Often, pronunciation changes a word, for example ‘Brochers’ (people hailing from Fraserburgh) would pronounce ‘mattress’ as ‘mah-trass’, making it sound like a new word.

Kirsty’s writing class also touched on this subject when we were asked to translate a piece of writing into our own dialect, which I found hysterically funny.  I’m not sure that I’d want to write exclusively in Doric, but there are little pieces here and there appearing in what may be becoming my 6000 word portfolio.  Just enough to pepper it with something alternative.

I’ll share some of my hen-scratchings that emerged from these classes.

 

Cheerio ye fuckin’ bams

Ah mine yon summer

Sun wis blazin ootside

Fit a fuckin’ bummer

I wiz stuck inside

ah by masel

cleanin  mingin student flats

aye, like i pits oh hell

ah’ll tell ye’s at

ma face wiz soor

sweatin oot buckets

fur a pittance an oor

am aff, fuck iss

Wooden-peg-clothes-peg-peg-dolly1

PEG

It’s a hing

fur hingin’ washin’

a widden hing or a

plastic hing ye’d

pit on a string

a line fur claes

ti dry oot

if ye hey a gairden.

Wearin’ dump claes

isna affa fine

sunny or windy

is best dryin wither

for claes fixed

by a peg on the line

 

This is a splendid peg, wooden and fine

Fit for a round hole

Or a windy line

Fixed around a washing pole

 

Doric Flash Fiction

Bit Grama, ah hinna any pennies ti get a taxi.  Ma grunny stifles a laugh wi her fingers.  I huff and fold ma airms cos ah hiv ti wait until she opens the door fur mi.  Ah hid a wee suitcase packed for biding wi her while mi Mam wis in hospital heyin the bairn, a wee sister ca’ed Stephanie, accordin’ ti me.

‘ARI please driver’, grama sais ti the taxi driver.  ‘Wi kin get ye new hings efter we’ve been up ti see yer Mam an yer new brither, Scott’, she sais ti me.  Ah wiz fizzin’ mad.  Mi Grama hid lost ma case on ih bus and I wis gein her grief fur bein si careless.  Ah hid turned fower twa days afore, so ah wisna in ih best humour onywy, bein shunted aff ti ma grunny’s on ma birthday.

She couldna hide bein amused.

‘It isna funny Grama’ ah telt her, ‘ah ma best things and favourite toys wis in there!’ I teen a lookie in the rear view mirror at the dour faced driver, pointed and sais ‘See – he disna think its funny either!’

Ma Grunny wis in knots and telt abdy iss story.

I am ‘fair tricket‘ with PEG.  I’ll leave the translations up to you.  If you are really interested, you can look it up.  I’ve been affa good by including some internet-linky-treats to get you started.  Writing this has certainly inspired me to research beyond my personal interest. The Doric Detective Agency… open for investigation.  I’m sure there’s a story in there somewhere, but I’ll leave that for another time.

detective

 

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