Some Thoughts on Welsh Idioms.

Lately in Learning Welsh . . . I’ve been looking at Welsh proverbs. Previously, I only knew a few of these sayings from childhood, the ones repeated more commonly in Wales; Y gwir yn erbyn y byd – “The truth against the world,” for example. I always remembered my high school motto, Goru arf, arf dysg – “learning is the best weapon,” and for years I’ve tried to reanimate my Welsh language learning with the old chestnut Dyfal donc a dyr y garreg – “constant blows will (eventually) break the stone.” However, a comparable, sneaky English idiom about banging one’s head against a brick wall can often prove just as effective in undoing my determination.

The wisdom in some of these stock Welsh phrases is sometimes questionable and at other times outdated, lost in a modern-day urban context. To say that the best utensil in a house is a good wife might be seen by some these days as a tad on the sexist side. And if you really believe that milk and butter make up two-thirds of the healthiest diet, you might actually die from dairy overdose.

There are quite a few sayings about farming and Welsh weather, which are all well and good if you’re a shepherd living on the slopes of some mountain in Gwynedd, but not so applicable if you’re a writer sitting in a library in sunny New Zealand. One of these sayings did seem to have a wider application though. It came to mind when I was queuing at the crowded local WINZ (government welfare) office the other day:  Gaeaf gwyn, ysgubor dynn – “a white winter, a tight barn.”

        Questionable wisdom? What about the wonderfully rhymed Perth hyd fogel, perth ddiogel – “a hedge up to the navel is a safe hedge?” Unless this is a really obscure metaphor about chastity, it’s little wonder the Welsh got invaded by the Romans, Normans, and English, and frequently raided by Vikings and Irishmen.

      Stating that a fool blames everyone but himself, that long sleeps increase lifespan, that good beer is the heart’s key, that there’s no beauty without women and that a person should take their time getting to work, only seems to confirm my growing suspicion that it’s my ancestors who are entirely responsible for any lazy, work-shy, semi-alcoholic and promiscuous behavior on my part. As I already told my last fifteen employers, it’s genetic. People don’t tend to accept that as a legitimate excuse, but how about Gwell hwyr na hwyrach – “better late than later.” Can’t argue with that, can they?

Here’s my personal favourite: Gorau Cymro, Cymro oddi cartref – “the best Welshman, a Welshman away from home.”  Makes me feel slightly better about daily being peeled between the lingering caricature of a formerly more solid Welsh identity and the true-blue New Zealander I can never really become.