Thursday, March 06, 2014
Misheard lyrics
I love what children hear in songs.
Tonight I was on bedtime duty as Thomas was out with his Indyref friends. I asked the girls if they'd each like to sing a song after I'd put the lights out. Anna sang 'Do you want to build a snowman' word perfect. Next Amaia volunteered to sing 'Let it go'. She was word perfect until 1 minute 55 in when she sang quite seriously 'To taste the lemons and bake stew'!
How sweet :-)
Psychic connection?
Today was world book day so the kids were meant to go to school dressed as a character they like from a book they'd read/been read.Anna decided to be Pippi Langstrømpe as she enjoys those books in Danish and Amaia opted for Cinderella in her pale blue ballgown (we have the book in English and the Disney movie in Danish.)
Last Sunday had been Fastelavn in Denmark. It is a dressing up festival a bit like our Halloween. Today Thomas's sister sent us photos of our two nieces: Ursula (7) and Elisabeth (6 mths).Ursula (left) had decided to dress up as Pippi, and baby Elisabeth was of course... well I'll let you guess for yourselves! It must be some sort of spooky international psychic connection, if you ask me!
Wednesday, March 05, 2014
A good Herald article on Indyref
It is nice to see some sense in the media for once.
I have to say, as someone who lives in a multinational and multicultural home, I find the idea of us being the only people on the face of this earth not capable of making decisions about our own future more than a little condescending.
Last week we had a Georgian professor staying with us. Ages with me, he had grown up in Soviet Georgia and seen his country of 5 million people fight for their right to independence. He was incredulous that any nation would prefer to abdicate that responsibility. No matter how we tried to explain the Scottish fearties to him, he just could not comprehend that mentality. Interestingly, the international media seems to agree. It's a shame so many of us are watching the BBC instead of reading it.
I have to say, as someone who lives in a multinational and multicultural home, I find the idea of us being the only people on the face of this earth not capable of making decisions about our own future more than a little condescending.
Last week we had a Georgian professor staying with us. Ages with me, he had grown up in Soviet Georgia and seen his country of 5 million people fight for their right to independence. He was incredulous that any nation would prefer to abdicate that responsibility. No matter how we tried to explain the Scottish fearties to him, he just could not comprehend that mentality. Interestingly, the international media seems to agree. It's a shame so many of us are watching the BBC instead of reading it.
Mum's 70th birthday party
I like the way I've managed to catch the girls blowing out the candle on granny's birthday train on Saturday. They seem very focused on the task in hand.
Memory
Thomas's mum can recount amazingly detailed memories from when she was an infant. She remembers being fed before she could speak and feeling distressed at being unable to explain when she was full.
I'm not sure if Anna or Amaia can remember their babyhood but they both definitely seem to have inherited traits from their grandmother.
Anna described to me in detail recently how she broke her leg at the age of two, which leg it was and what colour of tights I put over the cast to protect it. She also told me about a trip to Copenhagen zoo with her cousin Ursula which also took place when she was two. As I was not with her there are no photos of the event to jog her memory either. As for Italy, which she hasn't seen since she was four, she can describe it in great detail. Yesterday she was telling me all about the neighbour, Margaret's plunge pool, its depth and the float she used and how she had been scared of the wasps the water seemed to attract.
Amaia too has very strong visual memories of being two. She often points at lucozade bottles even today and says 'Pumpa's drink', despite the fact that he died when she was two. She uses the word 'yesterday' to mean at any time in the past so I'm often thrown when she starts telling me about 'yesterday' until she fills in the details that pinpoint the event as being one or two years ago. She's particularly good at remembering what she wore on specific occasions, or what she ate.
It's funny which genes kids seem to inherit.
I'm not sure if Anna or Amaia can remember their babyhood but they both definitely seem to have inherited traits from their grandmother.
Anna described to me in detail recently how she broke her leg at the age of two, which leg it was and what colour of tights I put over the cast to protect it. She also told me about a trip to Copenhagen zoo with her cousin Ursula which also took place when she was two. As I was not with her there are no photos of the event to jog her memory either. As for Italy, which she hasn't seen since she was four, she can describe it in great detail. Yesterday she was telling me all about the neighbour, Margaret's plunge pool, its depth and the float she used and how she had been scared of the wasps the water seemed to attract.
Amaia too has very strong visual memories of being two. She often points at lucozade bottles even today and says 'Pumpa's drink', despite the fact that he died when she was two. She uses the word 'yesterday' to mean at any time in the past so I'm often thrown when she starts telling me about 'yesterday' until she fills in the details that pinpoint the event as being one or two years ago. She's particularly good at remembering what she wore on specific occasions, or what she ate.
It's funny which genes kids seem to inherit.
Tuesday, March 04, 2014
Sun on sandstone
I was out with my camera last week showing Kakha round Glasgow. One of the things I love on those very Scottish days when you get every season within an hour, is when you see that stunning effect of sun on sandstone against a backdrop of slate sky. It's definitely my favourite lighting for Glasgow photography.
Monday, March 03, 2014
Léon is a fascinating soul
Léon has been fascinated by all things foreign since before I can remember. His ear for phonetics in Danish and French have always been surprising even before he couldn't read or write. He would point out nuances of sounds that even I found barely perceptible.
He has also always been drawn to languages he doesn't understand. He loved the sound of Italian the first time we visited Thomas's parents in Italy and was desperate to learn what the villagers were saying.
This last week has taken that to a new level. Thomas's friend Kakha was here visiting from Georgia. Eighty percent of the conversation for the week took place in Norwegian, with about ten in English and ten in Georgian for good measure.
One evening I came in to find Léon sitting contentedly at the dining table taking everything in. He was then able to explain to me in great detail the ways in which Norwegian distorted the Danish words he was used to and how he could then guess from context what the words that differed in Norwegian must mean. Given his knowledge of Danish is much more spoken than written, drawing the parallels between the two languages is harder than it would be if you were a fluent reader of Danish so I have to say I was impressed. But not only impressed with his understanding, also by the look of contentment such an exercise gave him.
He just loved having someone so exotic to brighten up his mundane Scottish winter. It's been such a long time since anyone has stayed that he was becoming quite fed up and this has definitely perked him up. He's too sociable a wee guy to make do with just his six cohabitants!
His reaction to a week of Norwegian reminded me of the time, as a child, I found a bottle of shampoo in a campsite shower. Its label was written in Dutch. I sneaked back to my tent with it hidden in my jacket as if it was a precious treasure. I was drawn to the exotic too as a small child. I remember reading and rereading it trying to make out what meant what. I couldn't have been more than nine or ten.
I definitely think Léon is a chip off the old block, though he is growing up in an international enough house to hopefully satisfy some of his curiosity. When Kakha left, Léon was very sad. If he could have his way, he'd have a different foreign-speaking guest stay with us every other week.
I must try to find out if there are any lucrative niches for linguists before he gets to uni age - because I'm not sure he'll want to become Complexli's third member of staff one day!
He has also always been drawn to languages he doesn't understand. He loved the sound of Italian the first time we visited Thomas's parents in Italy and was desperate to learn what the villagers were saying.
This last week has taken that to a new level. Thomas's friend Kakha was here visiting from Georgia. Eighty percent of the conversation for the week took place in Norwegian, with about ten in English and ten in Georgian for good measure.
One evening I came in to find Léon sitting contentedly at the dining table taking everything in. He was then able to explain to me in great detail the ways in which Norwegian distorted the Danish words he was used to and how he could then guess from context what the words that differed in Norwegian must mean. Given his knowledge of Danish is much more spoken than written, drawing the parallels between the two languages is harder than it would be if you were a fluent reader of Danish so I have to say I was impressed. But not only impressed with his understanding, also by the look of contentment such an exercise gave him.
He just loved having someone so exotic to brighten up his mundane Scottish winter. It's been such a long time since anyone has stayed that he was becoming quite fed up and this has definitely perked him up. He's too sociable a wee guy to make do with just his six cohabitants!
His reaction to a week of Norwegian reminded me of the time, as a child, I found a bottle of shampoo in a campsite shower. Its label was written in Dutch. I sneaked back to my tent with it hidden in my jacket as if it was a precious treasure. I was drawn to the exotic too as a small child. I remember reading and rereading it trying to make out what meant what. I couldn't have been more than nine or ten.
I definitely think Léon is a chip off the old block, though he is growing up in an international enough house to hopefully satisfy some of his curiosity. When Kakha left, Léon was very sad. If he could have his way, he'd have a different foreign-speaking guest stay with us every other week.
I must try to find out if there are any lucrative niches for linguists before he gets to uni age - because I'm not sure he'll want to become Complexli's third member of staff one day!
Friday, February 28, 2014
A man thing
It must be a man thing... that need they have to take you through their sporting exploits...
Dad used to come in here two or three times a week and he'd start 'I was playing with Stevie today - hit the ball 300 yards at least but it veered off to the left... I won four and three' (or was it three and four...?) On and on I'd be given a blow by blow description of each match. The problem was I didn't stop and ask what it meant the first few times and by a few years in it was a bit embarrassing to do so, so I am not sure I ever fully understood what he was on about.
Marcel has started it too recently. His year has started arranging football matches against the 6th years after school on Fridays. He comes in a takes Lots and I through every minute of the match - who marked who, who missed a shot and with which foot, the final score, the angle his shot entered the goal and which corner - yawn, yaaawwwn!
I am so pleased I seem to have married a man who feels no such need!
Dad used to come in here two or three times a week and he'd start 'I was playing with Stevie today - hit the ball 300 yards at least but it veered off to the left... I won four and three' (or was it three and four...?) On and on I'd be given a blow by blow description of each match. The problem was I didn't stop and ask what it meant the first few times and by a few years in it was a bit embarrassing to do so, so I am not sure I ever fully understood what he was on about.
Marcel has started it too recently. His year has started arranging football matches against the 6th years after school on Fridays. He comes in a takes Lots and I through every minute of the match - who marked who, who missed a shot and with which foot, the final score, the angle his shot entered the goal and which corner - yawn, yaaawwwn!
I am so pleased I seem to have married a man who feels no such need!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)