The Word History of Skulls and Skullduggery

Hello,

This week’s post is with thanks to my garden weeding yesterday, because I found a skull. I must hasten to add that it wasn’t a human skull and we didn’t need to call in the police and forensics team.

I was clearing back the old foliage and stalks from my cutting garden, an annual chore before sowing new flower seeds, when I spotted a tiny bird’s skull tucked in beside the wall. It looked ancient and was light as a feather, but I know it wasn’t there last April and we didn’t have a bird’s nest in the climbing rose there last summer. I can only assume the cause of death was either the neighbour’s cats or old age. There were no other remains to lend me a clue.

Bird skull

Naturally this reminded me of the Viking origins of the word skull, which I discussed in “Words the Vikings Gave Us” and that led me to skullduggery and here we are.

In Old English the word for the skull was heafod-bolla, and in Middle English there was some use of the term braynpanne and brain pan is still used today to define the part of the skull which contains the brain.

With the arrival of the Vikings those earlier words were replaced by sculle which came from the Old Norse skalli (bald head or skull) and skull. There are related words in Swedish (skulle) and Norwegian (skult).

As for the mysterious bird skull, I checked with my friend, and cover artist, who has a fascination with such things for his art and he reckoned “A corvid – most likely a young crow or magpie based on the skull size – downturned beak looks like crow.” If the bird was young then cause of death wasn’t old age, probably a cat. If any of you have other suggestions – please leave them in the comments. I’m intrigued.

Now my second word of the week – skullduggery. Although it would be wonderful if the Vikings gave us skullduggery as well as skull but that’s not the case. Skullduggery (which may be spelled with one L or two) entered English usage in the mid 1800s for “underhanded dealings, roguish intrigue” 1856 so it’s much younger word than skull. The term originated in the earlier Scottish word sculdudrie (adultery) in the early 1700s.

By the 1820s it was sculduddery (obscenity, grossness, unchastity) and was probably brought into English usage thanks to the novels of Sir Walter Scott (1770-1832) whose historical novels featured plenty of derring-do and skullduggery. I must confess to not having read any of his work, but they’re on my list. His writing has faded in influence with time but his books and poetry were hugely popular in his day.

I had no idea that skullduggery was defined as adultery. Nowadays it’s a more general term for anything slightly immoral or illegal.

An Irish author brought the word Skullduggery to a new generation by naming his titular sharp-dressing skeleton detective Skullduggery Pleasant. Derek Landy’s books are well worth a read if you enjoy great fight scenes and twisty plots with plenty of magic. The series is technically for older children, but is beloved by adult readers too.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

The Surprisingly Un-Scottish History of Scot-free

Hello,

Have you ever thought about the origins of getting off scot-free? I came across it in my reading this week (“Humble Pie and Cold Turkey” by Caroline Taggart, if you’re curious) and it set me on the distinctly non-Scottish trail of the expression.

A witty Scottish police box (updated as a coffee hut)

Scot-free dates to Old English and was originally spelled scotfreo. It meant you were exempt from a royal tax and was compounded from scot (royal tax) and freo (free).

The definition of scot as a royal tax caught my eye. Having visited Edinburgh recently I was pretty certain scot referred to somebody resident in Scotland. No, apparently a scot is from late Old English and refers to municipal taxes, royal taxes, or fees due to a feudal lord.

The word scot in this sense came from skot in Old Norse (contribution) so our friends the Vikings had a hand in this one. The Old Norse verb skjota had two meanings – one around the idea of shooting and throwing and the second about transferring to another or paying. It’s the later meaning that we’re looking at this time. Skot is also related to Old English sceotan (to pay), Dutch schot, and German Schoß (tax) so this word has plenty of Northern European roots. You can also find escot (payment) in Old French which comes from Latin scotum.

It appears that scot, or variants, was widely known throughout Europe at the time as meaning some type of payment. In the 1100s in English you might find yourself at a scot-ale. In this case ale meant a festival. Specifically a scot-ale was a festival (probably with compulsory attendance) held by the lord of the manor and the scot was a feudal tax payable to him for the party. You might have to pay others too. Rome-scot was a church tax payable to the Pope and soul-scot was a payment on behalf of the deceased.

With time the idea of scot-free arose, if you got away scot-free you avoided paying the tax. From the 1600s it expanded to getting away without any consequences.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

p.p.s. this post contains affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them. #CommissionsEarned. Alternatively, you can use my digital tip jar to say thanks for this year’s words.

Raise a Toast to Words The Vikings Gave Us

Hello,

It’s day three of Wordfoolery Book Week and time to raise a toast to “Words the Vikings Gave Us”, my third book, which grew naturally from my sea book when I noticed how many English words wouldn’t exist without the influence of Old Norse. We wouldn’t have egg, window, they, or thing, for example. We would struggle to create an everyday sentence without their help. Perhaps more surprisingly I found enough romantic words for an entire chapter. They were much more than warriors.

Launched in 2021, it’s perfect for history buffs and anybody who has ever longed to hurl an axe. The book explores the Viking history of more than 300 words and phrases like kiss, ombudsman, bluetooth, frisbee, thing, and hustings. I drew from ship life, Viking food, farming, norse romance, myths, politics, modern Vikings, anatomy, place names, daily life, and of course how to fight like a Viking.

The blog has also featured many Viking words such as – slang, hug, gift, ugly, and sky.

I grew up in Dublin, founded by Vikings, and while Ireland (and countries as far apart as Canada, Russia, and Italy) were settled by Vikings they haven’t left behind a built legacy in the way the Romans did (despite their maritime empire lasting far longer). The Christian monks who wrote their histories weren’t big fan either because of their monastery looting. Their lasting legacy, for me, is their influence on English, which isn’t that surprising considering they ruled parts of the United Kingdom for more than 700 years.

One Viking word which shows how little we respect Viking society when decrying them as mere raiders is thing {note extract is copyright Grace Tierney 2021}.

Thing

Thing is a massively useful word in English. It can stand in for almost any noun when the correct word escapes the mind for a moment and it has been joined with other common words to create a range of popular words including anything, nothing, everything, something, plaything, and thingamajig.

Thing’s roots lie in Viking power structures. Thing entered Old English spelled as ping from Old Norse and the term was initially for a meeting, assembly, or discussion. This political root can be traced in Viking history with ease and spotted in the second half of the word hustings.

Iceland’s national assembly is called the Althing. It’s the oldest parliament in the world, having been founded in 930, and it originally met in the thing fields outside Reykjavik.

Similarly the Thing Mote in Dublin, Ireland was a raised mound near the location of Dublin Castle today, where the Vikings met to agree laws to rule the city during centuries of Norse rule. It stood until the late 1600s.

A thing meeting could be attended by all free Viking men, there were no restrictions of status or property (it took another 1,000 years for that to be true of Westminster). The meetings were regular and organised by a law speaker (who could recite all laws previously agreed) and the local chieftain. Disputes were resolved and laws made. It was a cross between a parliament and court of law. Things could be small local affairs, city level like Dublin, or national like Iceland’s Althing. Things often lasted for a few days and attracted community activities like trade and weddings on the sidelines.

With time a thing became something which was discussed at a meeting, rather than the meeting itself. By the 1300s it indicated a person who was pitied or a personal possession. By the 1600s English had settled on thing to be the word for the object you can’t name at the moment and it joined with other words to provide words for everything and anything (pun intended).

{end of extract}

If you enjoy stories like these then pick up a copy of “Words The Vikings Gave Us” by Grace Tierney in paperback or ebook from Amazon, or the many other stockists. All the places to buy it are listed on this page.

I’ll be talking about one of my books every day this week, so stay tuned for “Modern Words with Old Roots” tomorrow. Normal word blogging will resume next Monday.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Issue Three is due in mid-December. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email.

The Equine Roots of Fipple

Hello,

I can’t recall where I heard the word fipple, a podcast perhaps, but I loved the sound of it and immediately jotted it down as an obscure word to use for the “Mystery Word” game on “Wordfoolery Wednesday” on the radio. I later thought better of that as our listeners might be too inclined to share definitions of an unsavoury nature due to its spelling. The show airs around noon so we try to keep matters polite for younger audience members.

However fipple is too good a word to skip. I’m pretty sure my blog readers are all adults, so here we go. Do you know what a fipple is? If you’re of a musical bent, you might know it.

Organ in music room of Carton House, Maynooth – former residence of the Duke of Leinster

Collins dictionary defines it as a wooden plug forming party of the mouthpiece of a recorder instrument or a similar device in an organ pipe used to produce a flute-like tone.

Several dictionaries list fipple as dating to the 1600s but being of unknown origin. I must point out that fipple does sound a little like the sound your mouth makes when blowing into a recorder so it could come from that, but I happened upon the suggestion that it could be related to the Icelandic word flipi (lip of a horse) and if you think about the way a horse can blow out its lips, that’s a little like those efforts to blow air into a recorder or organ.

We’ll probably never know the true origin of fipple, but it does present a strange mental image of a mare playing the organ in the music room of some grand country house. Very talented horses back in the 1600s, you know.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. The plan is to release the next issue on Friday 17th of November and to include an exclusive Christmas contest for subscribers, so don’t miss out.

p.s. It’s day 13 of NaNoWriMo 2023 today. I’m on 26,276 words and enjoying writing “The Librarian’s Secret Diary”.

Wordfoolery on The Endless Knot

Hello,

A lovely benefit of writing an etymology blog is interacting with other word geeks here on the blog, and elsewhere. I had the great experience recently of chatting to two total language enthusiasts – Aven and Mark over at The Endless Knot. They create entertaining and educational videos & podcasts about etymology, language, literature, history, science, and connections in the world around us. They really know their stuff and invest huge amounts of time into their passion for language and history. Their video about Christmas Stockings is a real gem, for example.

They were kind enough to have me on their podcast this week to chat about “Words the Vikings Gave Us”. We had such fun recording this and I hope you’ll enjoy listening. Even if you don’t want to listen to my rambling about how Norse culture influenced the early years of English evolution or how a rotten-toothed Viking king gives us a modern word like bluetooth then check them out, you won’t regret it.

You can pick up the podcast (episode 104) on Apple, Google, Stitcher, or listen here.

Until next time, happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

The History of Blazing a Trail

Hello,

I don’t usually delve into the history of phrases, preferring the simplicity of word history, but this one caught my imagination and I thought I’d share it with you.

Trailblazers and blazing a trail are popular expressions lately and I had assumed they related to burning a path through a forest but I was wrong. Blaze, as in a fire or flame, comes to Old English as blaese from a Germanic root word blas (shining, white) and an earlier root word bhel for shining or burning.

Nowadays I follow the arrows in the forest rather than the blazes

Blaze, as in a light-coloured mark on the face of a horse or cow, arrived in English in the early 1600s via northern English dialect based on the Old Norse Viking word blesi for a white spot on a horse’s forehead – from the same root words mentioned earlier.

Early settlers in North America, from the late 1600s onwards, would mark out a trail in the thick forests by cutting a blaze mark into the bark on the trunks of trees to show the way to those behind them as the lighter inner wood would show brightly against the dark bark. Modern trail blazers are following in their footsteps.

Until next time, happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

The Surprisingly Prayerful Origins of the word Gaudy

Hello,

It’s the last week of my NaNoWriMo challenge to write 50,000 words of “Words Christmas Gave Us” (I’m on 39,387 words). However this week brings the perfect writing storm as it’s a big week for book promotion, so I hope you’ll forgive me for taking one of the words from the draft Christmas book for this week’s blog. Also, I will be promoting my books this week on social media so if you’ve already bought them for yourself and your entire extended family then feel free to mute me until the 29th of November when normal Wordfoolery will resume. Now, let’s a take a look at the origin of the word gaudy.

While some like to deck their halls with subtle, elegant decorations at this time of year and others take a natural approach with evergreens, pine-cones, and various foraged items, there are those who believe Christmas is a time to Go Big or Go Home. You’ll know these homes by the clash of colours, strobe lights, and total decoration overload. Some of the latter group do it simply for fun while others go for it to such an extent that people from the area come to visit their homes and admire the display, leaving a donation for charity as they do so. It’s hard to be against such a thing, even if you think it’s a bit gaudy.

Gaudy arrived in English originally with the word gaud. A gaud in the mid 1300s was a large ornamental bead in a rosary. A rosary is a set of prayer beads used to help Roman Catholics keep count of prayers. The plural of a gaud was gaudeez.

At the same time period a gaud might also be a jest or trick, some form of deception. You could be gaudful and gaudless too, but those terms gradually fell into disuse.

By the end of the 1300s the idea of a gaud had broadened to include ornamentation (appropriately for its link to Christmas ornaments now), this was thanks to Old French gaudie (joy, playfulness, a flashy trinket) from Latin gaudium (joy) and gaudere (to rejoice).

Hopefully my decorations weren’t too gaudy

By the early 1400s a gaud was being used as a term for a bauble or trinket which suggests that the beads in those rosaries were often very ornate rather than simple wooden beads for counting your prayers. In a deeply religious society, with regular church-going as a public event perhaps a decorative rosary was an important style accessory? A quick search online for historic rosary beads of that period seems to support this theory, at least for the wealthier members of the court.

Alongside this idea of showy ornamentation, the second meaning – full of trickery – persisted at least until the mid 1500s.

The showy idea may also have been influenced by a similarly spelled Middle English word gaudegrene from the same time which described a yellowish green dye extracted from the weld plant. This originally Germanic plant name became gaude in Old French, bringing with it the idea of colour to add to the idea of ornamentation – joining bright showiness to joy and rosary beads.

Around the 1550s you’d also have a gaudy day (day of rejoicing) and joyfully festive arose in the 1580s, all of which fits well with the idea of Christmas festivities although it wasn’t linked directly to Christmas. By the 1600s the meaning had shifted again, this time to the more modern idea of gaudy meaning showy or tastelessly ornate. Perhaps even then there were those who decried over the top ornamentation and joyful celebration. It might be no co-incidence the negative meaning was added in a century which saw the rise of puritanism and a crackdown on what was seen as overly pagan or “popish” celebration of the season.

If you like the idea of a gaudy day, do not fear, you can join in on the Wear Something Gaudy Day, celebrated on the 17th of October, inspired by a 1970s comedy show “Three’s Company”, mark it in your diary for 2022, if you wish. Gaudy days are also celebrated in several long-established universities and colleges in the UK, generally involving a feast and celebration thanks to the Latin meaning of rejoicing. I think we all need more rejoicing days, so this should be encouraged, even if the decorations are gaudy.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Happy Thanksgiving this week to my American readers!

p.p.s. If you haven’t stumbled across my word history books here’s the lowdown.

“Words the Vikings Gave Us” Viking verbs & Norse nouns

“Words the Sea Gave Us” nautical words & sailor yarns

“How To Get Your Name In The Dictionary” heroes & villains who gave their names to English.

They’re available in paperback from Amazon, various online bookshops worldwide, some Irish independent bookshops, and signed copies directly from me (Christmas orders for signed copies close on the 10th of December – for Europe). The ebook editions are on Kindle and Kobo. All the info is at My Books and they make ideal gifts for the history buff or word nerd in your life. Anybody who buys any of the books (from any source) between now and December 31st, 2021 will be entered in a draw to win a viking bead necklace, nautical words bookmark, and a selection of Christmas chocolate – just message me an image of your receipt on Twitter @Wordfoolery or to grace at gracetierney dot com as proof of purchase. I’ll announce the winner here, and on Twitter & Facebook on the 1st of Jan 2022.

Don’t forget to check out the free download section where I have articles about boat names (from ark to schooner) and nine things you never knew about the Vikings. You might enjoy them.

If you’re on Twitter and love reading history (nonfiction or fiction) then be sure to check out #HistoryWritersDay on Sat 27 Nov and Sun 28 Nov 2021. It’s a a Virtual Christmas Market of Twitter accounts offering history books to buy. Loads of great authors, bookshops, and publishers are taking part, including me. I love browsing markets at any time of year but throw in history books and I couldn’t resist.

Bangers – Edible, Musical, and Explosive

Hello,

This week’s word is banger, a word which has a multitude of meanings despite it’s apparent simplicity.

For me, because it’s October now, the primary meaning of banger is a loud firework. Technically fireworks are illegal in these parts but it doesn’t stop enthusiasts traveling across the border to Northern Ireland (where they are legal) and stocking up in anticipation of Halloween parties. Inevitably there’s a temptation to let them off early and in some places this can start as early as September. It’s a nightmare for pet-owners and not much better for writers working from home.

The bangers must be cheap as they are in plentiful supply. They don’t make a display in the sky but they’re loud – hence the name. I was sure this was Hiberno-English but I checked my copy of “The Dictionary of Hiberno-English” by Dr Terence Patrick Dolan and the only listing there is one I never heard before – a banger is “someone on, say, a football team who is over the age limit” and presumably thus able to out-play the opposition due to size or skill. Sneaky, eh?

Bangers of the edible variety

The Cambridge dictionary backs me up on the firework definition and adds – sausages, old cars, and popular music with heavy beat and good for dancing. Urban Dictionary adds that a banger can be a party, presumably where such music is played. My teens definitely use banger in the musical sense more than for anything else.

Banger as a term for a sausage has a fun etymology which I found in the excellent “Outlander Kitchen” cookbook and in the Encyclopedia Britannica. Bangers and mash is a traditional British meal of sausages (the bangers) and mashed potatoes, usually served with an onion gravy. Sausages were nicknamed bangers during World War I when meat shortages encouraged sausage makers to be more inventive than usual. After all there are two things you should never see being made – laws and sausages – a motto often attributed to Otto von Bismarck but mythbusted here. Filling them with too much water caused the sausages to explode when cooked – hence bangers.

Bangers as a word pre-dates the old sausage story however and gets back to the whole noise issue. Banger entered English in the 1600s to describe anything which banged. By the end of that century we also had a word which has evaporated since – a bangster – a muscular bully. I could see that one coming back, although perhaps a bangster nowadays would be associated with music?

Banger led me further back to the verb bang (to strike hard with a loud blow). It joined English in the 1500s, possibly from a Scandinavian source akin to Old Norse banga (pound or hammer). Ever since I launched my “Words the Vikings Gave Us” I’m being haunted with Old Norse!

Since the 1500s bang wriggled its way into a few different meanings and phrases:

1810 – bang-up – meaning something is of top quality – a bang-up meal, for example

1855 – a sudden, loud, explosive noise

1864 – as slang for being very large

1937 – as slang for having intercourse

Bang and bangers are yet another example of thinking you know a modern word and finding a variety of phrases and origins when you go looking. Now I’m feeling hungry for sausages for my lunch, so long as they don’t explode.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. In fun book news – my nearest independent bookshop, Academy Books, will be stocking “Words the Vikings Gave Us” from this week.

p.p.s. This post contains Amazon.com affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them.

p.p.p.s. The Journal, an Irish online newspaper, had a fun word origin quiz this morning which you might enjoy. One note though – the question about “smashing” is incorrect according to that Hiberno-English dictionary. Shame, it’s a good story.

Book Launch – Words the Vikings Gave Us

Hello,

Today’s the day – my latest etymology book, “Words the Vikings Gave Us” is now live and available to buy in paperback and ebook editions (all the buy links are here). If you’d like a signed copy you can order that directly from me.

If you’re a regular Wordfoolery reader, you’ll already know what to expect – the history and stories behind more than 300 words from akimbo to yule which we use in everyday English because we borrowed them from the Vikings and Old Norse. Words like kiss, ombudsman, bluetooth, frisbee, thing, and hustings. They’re drawn from ship life, Viking food, farming, norse romance, myths, politics, modern Vikings, anatomy, place names, daily life, and of course how to fight like a Viking.

I’m running a few extracts, Viking facts, and polls over on my Facebook and Twitter accounts today (14 September 2021) so if you’re on those, pop in and say Hi.

Competition Time!

The competition prize

I’m giving away a handmade Viking-style necklace today to celebrate my book “Words the Vikings Gave Us” launching into the world. It’s made with replica Viking glass beads. Viking raiders used to bring beads back home from their trips as gifts to their loved ones. Hence the more beads, the more status.

To enter, reply to this post with proof of book purchase or email grace [at] gracetierney [dot] com.

The competition is open worldwide and closes at 20:00 (GMT+1) 14 Sep 2021

The winner will be announced here on the blog, on Twitter, and on Facebook. Readers who have bought signed copies are in the hat, so you don’t need to message me. If you win I’ll be touch for your address.

Don’t worry, the blog with be back to “normal” next week, chatting about the history of unusual words. I’ll also have news about some word history blogs as several have been kind enough to invite me on for a chat about Viking words.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

Birth, Scoff, and Sky – a Trio of Old Norse Words

Hello,

After recording an interview about “Words the Vikings Gave Us” with the wonderful Dan and Shauna of the Bunny Trails podcast yesterday (I’ll let you know when it’s available for listening) I’m getting that “oh wow, I’m launching a book tomorrow” feeling inside today – one part excitement and three parts terror. If Vikings can set sail into unexplored oceans in a small wooden boat, I guess I can cope with a book launch, right?

To get us all in the mood, here are three short words from the book – birth, scoff (a favourite word of mine), and sky. I hope you enjoy them.

{Three extracts from “Words the Vikings Gave Us” by Grace Tierney, copyright 2021}

Birth

We get the word for childbirth and the fact of being born from the Old Norse word byrdr. In Middle English birth was sometimes even used to describe the conception of a child. The suffix –th in this word is to indicate the word is for a process (like death, growth, strength, and even bath).

Scoff

Scoff, in the sense of mocking or making light of something, has been in English since the 1300s. It arrived from Old Norse skaup or skop (mockery or ridicule) and can also be seen in skof (Middle Danish). They may have their roots in the Proto-Germanic terms skuf, which also provides scop, the Old English word for poet.

Sunset, Wexford harbour, Ireland

Sky

The English word for sky is a direct import of the Old Norse word for cloud. What this tells us about the weather in Viking countries versus the British Isles is debatable.

The original Saxon word would have been heofen, which is related to the idea of Heaven. In Middle English sky was used interchangeably for the concept of a religious heaven and for the upper regions of the air above us. By the 1800s and 1900s sky had given us other airy ideas such as sky-high (1812), the sky’s the limit (1908), sky dive (1965), and even sky writing (1922).

{end of extract}

You might be wondering what’s happening at the book launch tomorrow. I’ve had a few questions about the availability of free booze already (sorry, that’s a no). With the times we are in, my own preference to hide behind a large stack of books, and the fact that Wordfoolery readers are scattered all around the globe I’m going with a virtual book launch day again – starting around 09:00 (GMT+1) and running through until about 20:00. If you can join in for some of it you’ll be very welcome. If you can’t, most of it will be online afterwards and you can explore at your leisure.

What’s in the day? Behind the scenes I’ll be firing off press releases with a sense of glorious abandon and updating every social profile I possess (yes, I’m on too many platforms, I know). For lovely readers I’ll be posting two Viking polls, sharing extracts and fun Viking facts, thanking my word donors, and running a competition. I’ll raise a Viking toast at the end of the day to celebrate my book being out in the world, sailing around in its little longship, hopefully conquering new worlds. Most events will be running on my Twitter and Facebook pages, plus a post or two here on the blog.

Wordfoolery will chatting about the book on Sinéad Brassil’s morning show on LMFM radio in Ireland on the 15th of September and I’ll also be appearing on a few podcasts and blogs over the coming days and weeks, I’ll let you know about those as they go live.

All the details on where to buy the book are here.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)