Speak Bonnie Noo

Posted by Margaret Tong

This is my first blog, in the Doric, for the Scots Language Centre. I’m originally fae Buckie, bit bide near Berkeley, in California.

Fa kin myne their first wordies fan they wir learnin tae speak? Noo, eiss michtna hae been ma very first wordies, bit I kin myne bein in the gairden wi ma Granny, fin I wis mebbe twa eer aul.

We wir lookin at aa the bonnie floories an she pynted tae the daffodils.  “ Fitna colour are that floories?” she spiered.  “Awa!” I lispit. “Speak bonnie, noo!” said Granny, an richt awa I kent fit she meant. “Ewo!” I annoonced and, from that meenit, I wis fluently bi-lingual in the Doric an in English. Of coorse, noo, I say, “Yalla” or “Yellow,” fitiver the parteecular occasion demands.  

I grew up in a Doric-speakin hoosehold, in the traditional style o fishin families along the Moray Firth Coast.  Mam, Dad an masel bade in ae ine o the hoose, an Granny an Granda in the ither. English wiz hardly iver used. Only if we hid fowk or the Doctor in. Granny kept pittin her fit doon throo’t. Of veesitin New Zealand cousins, she spiered, “Did you fly ower?” Then corrected hersel. “Did you flee over?”

It wid be affy naïve tae think I speak the Doric aa the time, bit I myne ae Buckie wifie spierin at me, “Fin ye’re at hame in California, fit wye div fowk ken fit ye’re sayin?”  

Noo, I can myne on the days, in the 1950s an 1960s, fin speakin the Doric wis nae only nae encouraged, bit positively looked doon on. Some fowk thocht it showed ignorance and inferiority, an telt their bairns nae tae associate wi classmates fa “Spoke like that!” So it’s of great intrist tae me tae see that competeetions are held an prizes gie’en oot for poems, stories, plays an sangs composed in the Doric.

Of coorse, we cwidna speak it at aa in the school an ye’d be punished if ye did.

I myne a Nature Study test in Primary School. Name sax insects. I kent my insects, I thocht an expectit tae get a gold star in my jotter. Bit I included ‘horny golach’ in my list an the teacher markit me wrang! I got five oot o sax an nae gold star. She micht hae written ‘earwig’ in the margin, in her reed pen, an telt me that wiz the English version. I wid hae learnt somethin.  Ye didna argue back wi yer teacher, bit noo I’m claimin my gold star, because a horny golach is sot an insect.

Mind you, I div think that the teachers did speak the Doric in the privacy o the staff room but werna ga’n tae lat on tae hiz.

Noo I see that bairnies are learnin the Doric in the school.  I’ve heard short recordins o some bairns speakin it, bit it didna soon richt somehoo. It soonded ‘Pan Loaf’ Doric tae me.  Mebbe their fowk dinna speak it at hame, or they dinna speak it ivery day. There’s mair tae learnin the Doric than jist the wordies.

The Doric is a rich expression o Life in the North East o Scotland.   There’s fisher Doric an there’s fermin Doric, an ivery toonie n village hiz their ain variations.

There’s an affy lot tae say aboot the Doric an the North East o Scotland an I’ll get til’t in my Doric blogs.

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