It has always been my second language and so I can hardly say that I have ever really mastered it. Still, some of my best memories of song and poetry from childhood are in Welsh. And the little I knew is stored somewhere in my brain. Deep, deep down. But there all the same.
Now I take phone calls on a daily basis in Welsh. And though I struggle somewhat to reply, it is coming back. If slowly. How alien a language can feel in your mouth.
That said I have to laugh at all the French and Russian words I've slipped in to these conversations. Out of habit. Or voids in my Welsh memory. Indeed words that I'd searched and searched for when I really needed them in French or Russian conversations seem readily available now. Just pop into my head involuntarily. Thus far everyone has been too polite to point out the anomalies. But it gives a whole new sheen to the phrase: "excuse my French"...
But back to the sheep. Defaid. Or rather the lambs. Oen. As promised, here are some photos of the first lambs in the fields. Taken this morning before work. The ewes shouted a lot at me. Just trying to keep me at bay. At least in the first field. In the second, they all came over and stared at me. Either trying to frighten me with their steely gazes. Or just because they found me a bit odd. Either way they made me giggle. As did the gambolling youngsters. Full of spring and joy. Truly delightful.
Ciwt (maybe?) iawn!
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