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Irish
Gorra Meela Hoolahoops. Pardon?
"Of course, Rosenkranz, you'll be doing part of your speech in French and not Irish," said the austere dictator who passed for the President of the school I attended where I did my Leaving Certificate. He was referring to the fact that I had been born and brought up in England, although of Irish parents. I had been elected to be Master of Ceremonies at my School Debs and the President had wrongly assumed that even one word of my speech in Irish would be beyond me. To prove him wrong, I got the best Irish speaker in my year to sit down and phonetically translate a portion of my speech into an 'Irish' I could pass off as the real thing.
It worked and I got a rousing round of applause from my fellow students and a stern look of contempt from Father O'Flaherty. I had practised that short speech so many times that it was etched on my memory for ever and I was able to recite it at my brother's wedding seven years later. I have always thought it possible that I might actually learn the language myself one day.
I never progressed further than getting friends to translate certain words and phrases such as band names: Huey Lewis agus an Nuacht (Huey Lewis and the News) or Fliuch, Fliuch, Fliuch (Wet, Wet, Wet) or more cleverly, Sean Airgead (Johnny Cash) and drop them into conversations for comic effect along with the odd thank-you, howareyou and milk, butter, sugar, please.
It is such a pity that I didn't pursue it further because An Ghaeilge is such a lyrical, musical and rich language and part of my family's heritage. But after a little searching, I found a plethora of courses available, not only in the learning of the language, but also in all aspects of Irish culture from music to literature.
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