I SAW a tweet not so long ago asking why Gaelic-speaking “celebrities” aren’t doing more to help promote the language. I wrote a few draft replies and then consigned the entire exercise to the bin because I didn’t have the energy.

Naturally, it festered, and 240 ­characters were not enough. First off, I’ve no idea who counts as a Gaelic-speaking celebrity, and nor do I much care. However, if a Gaelic speaker of any description with more than a few hundred followers on whichever godforsaken platform is the order of the day is not “actively promoting Gaelic”, it is ­probably because they are sick and tired of the ­criticism that follows the attempt.

When they do use Gaelic, they are ­likely to be instantly kneecapped by someone criticising their spelling, grammar or idiom. This is just one of the reasons that ­being a Gaelic speaker drives me round the ­absolute twist. When it comes to using the language, you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. And the damning is usually done by the same people.

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By not using it, you are betraying your fellow Gaidheals and destroying the hopes of future generations, but when you try to use it, the older generations will visibly wince as soon as you open your mouth. It’s exhausting. And I say that as a fluent native speaker. I feel heart sorry for learners.

There will be those who think I’m ­exaggerating, that it is important that ­idiom and grammar are correct, and that us snowflakes just need to buck up and get on with it.

Sure – grammar and construction are important, and without idiom, we don’t have a language worth ­mentioning, but the early twenties me, lacking in ­confidence about anything, vividly ­remembers ­being brutally corrected in a professional ­context on more than one occasion, and early forties me still feels the shame.

It resurfaces every time I think about writing in Gaelic, or indeed when faced with speaking to those who, in my mind, have a far superior level of Gaelic.

I am currently wrestling with how you use Gaelic in the context of an ­island Development Trust where no-one is ­confident in their written Gaelic, where the community usage has fallen off a cliff and where our detractors, funders and various public bodies expect us to cough up copies of everything in both languages. Honestly? Every time someone suggests we need a large document translated, I feel another part of my soul leaving my body.

Freedom will come, I think, when we accept that making all the written words Gaelic is not the answer. Yes – I am ­indeed suggesting that there is ­absolutely no need to translate everything that stands still long enough into Gaelic in order to “save the language”. I’d go further. I think that it is actively unhelpful.

If you are an average Gaelic ­speaker reading this (not an academic or a ­linguist, thank you) how often do you read the Gaelic version of a government report? Of a Gaelic plan? Of a book? I’d guess rarely.

I am the same. I can’t read Gaelic ­easily these days. Not because I can’t read in Gaelic, but because the Gaelic which is being used is incomprehensible to me. The constructions and the register are so alien and off-putting that I would rather eat my own eyeballs on a cocktail stick than read the Gaelic version of anything official.

(Image: Colin Mearns)

Gaelic versions of things are not in themselves a bad thing if Gaelic is your starting point, or if the context is ­relevant. We just released a Gaelic History Trail in Tiree. We have a version in both ­languages. Its goal is not, frankly, for anyone to read the entire thing in Gaelic – although we’d love it if they do so (particularly if it helps them learn) – it’s that we demonstrate to locals and to visitors that Gaelic matters both to the past and the present.

But the annual report? The entire ­community development plan? I’m not translating it. Not on your nelly. A ­summary document, in easy-read Gaelic, sure. It’s far more likely to be read and used. I dread to think how many hours are spent painstakingly translating things that will never ever be read.

Why do we insist on it? I’m sure plenty of folk will tell me about the scientific and political and linguistic importance, but I’m not sure I care. Gaelic isn’t a ­naturally theoretical language – the Gaelic native speakers have is practical and ­wonderfully rich but it was never ­destined to be used to discuss the politics of space ­travel or the stock market or whatever else we are trying to twist our tonsils round this week.

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Inspired by a saying my grandfather ­reportedly used – “What’s the use in ­translating the telephone directory?” – I’m beginning to think that in local ­contexts a much lighter-weight Gaelic-first approach is what is needed.

We should focus on normalising the language by ­threading it through our ­communications. We should give non-speakers a non-threatening way to access it, and most ­importantly, we should respect our existing speakers enough to show that Gaelic is an integral part of what we do without requiring them to have a copy of Dwelly to hand.

In social media posts, I am ­experimenting by combining Gaelic and English rather than translating word for word. On the Trust website, you land on the Gaelic version of our ­homepage. It’s easy to switch to English, but it ­immediately signals to the user that ­Gaelic is here. I have no plans to translate everything. I have better things to do. I’d much rather be doing what I’ve been doing on Saturday mornings – ­listening to my dad and a group of non-Gaelic ­speakers work through pronunciation of placenames.

Even better have been ­Saturday ­afternoons listening to fluent speakers converse easily and happily about a whole range of topics. The hilarity coming from the room last week was quite something. The project was funded by Feisean nan Gaidheal and Argyll and Bute Council. It ended yesterday, but has proven so ­popular that we are hoping to keep it ­going.

We’re planning a Gaelic film ­project this winter, as well as Gaelic-first events ­including quizzes, bingo and even ­karaoke! Non-Gaelic speakers will be very welcome but they will have to buddy up with someone who can ­explain what’s happening. I have no more interest in translating a Gaelic event into English than I have in translating English into Gaelic.

Maybe my perspective is skewed by the fact that I slip between languages easily. Don’t let that fool you though. I might slip between them easily – but I ­certainly don’t do it accurately. All my written work of any length is sent to my dad for checking. He recently raised his eyebrow and corrected my social media posts too. I think it only had four Gaelic words in it ... Regardless, I am determined that I am not going to slow our work down by ­obsessing over my own grammar. It ­hinders too many of us.

Instead, I will use it and ­gratefully ­accept corrections. I will try to ­incorporate it everywhere I can without forcing it on ­anyone. I’ll work with anyone who wants to use Gaelic in what they do. Not by ­necessarily translating word for word – heaven forbid – but by helping them find ways to use it that are useful and ­interesting.

Bring on the criticism! In the meantime, I’ll keep experimenting and chatting. The door will be open, and I’ll be using Dwelly as a doorstop.