Try these generators to liven up your day…
Are migrants ruining the identity of the Queen?
Thou curmudgeonly apple-worm!
Widen that envelope! Use your synergies!
Have a wordy day, won’t you!
My fellow blogger from Germany has a headline for some her blogs, which roughly translates as “Turn up the volume!”
This song always reminds me of my year abroad in Russia 1991-1992, and local Russians singing the chorus in heavily-accented English.
Enjoy I’m The One and Only Dominator (and there is no other).
Having a dominating day, won’t you!
My local radio station, BBC Radio Tees, runs a headline competition on its breakfast show.
Here’s the story.
Here’s my headline.
FACE STIFF PENALTIES”
Have a tabloid day, won’t you!
Every language has untranslatable words and expressions.
Today’s untranslatable expression is:
I’m not sure if it’s a British expression. (Americans, do you use the same expression?)
What does “back-seat driver” actually mean? Let’s turn to www.urbandictionary.com.
1. A passenger in the back seat of the car who criticises the driver.
2. Anyone who offers unwanted advice.
I am sometimes asked what the role of church warden is like. To ex-military people, I tend to explain thus:
It’s a bit like being RSM in a regiment.
It’s a bit like being a shop steward.
22:30 on Saturday evening: Beep-beep. WhatsApp message from Back-Seat Driver (BSD).
“The church website is down for maintenance. Why?”
“Probably because our webmaster is doing some updates.”
“But why’s he doing maintenance work on a Saturday evening?”
“Because he’s doing it in his spare time, and he’s doing it for free.”
“When’s the new-look church website going to be ready?”
“I cannot answer that question.”
“Why not? You said you were aiming to get the website up and running this month.”
“I cannot answer that question.”
BSD has a habit of advising others on how it should be done better. In fact, he gives more “on-the-spot guidance” than Kim Jong-un, President of North Korea.
“We” in this context, in fact, means:
Anybody except for me.
Have a guidance-free day, won’t you!
My name is Ginge in Germany.
I am obese. I weigh 122.4kg. My waistline is 120cm. I am a type 2 diabetic. I am maxed out on tablets. I do not inject insulin (yet).
I have tried various diets, as well as hypnosis. Hypnosis has been the most effective method so far, dropping from 120kg down to 108kg in 12 weeks back in 2003. A week ago I was chatting to an old classmate of mine, who is now a nurse. She recommended the 8-Week Blood Sugar Diet. This is the book.
Minutes after chatting to the aforementioned classmate, I had ordered the book off Amazon. Two days later the book arrived. Schatz was away all weekend. I dedicated myself to reading the book from cover to cover over the weekend. The first section was all about VLCD: very low calorie diet. I get the idea. I whizzed that part, yellow highlighter pen in hand.
On Sunday I bought a pocketbook at the McPaper stationery shop. This book has now become my food diary. Everything gets jotted there. Today I started in earnest. Smoked salmon omlette for dinner. Most pleasing to the palate. On the way back from the supermarket I called in at my local cafe. Tempted as I was, I refrained from ordering my usual piece of cake or bread roll.
Nur eine grosse Tasse Kaffee, bitte.
The lady sitting at the table next to mine turned out to be from Croatia. I ended up practising my very rusty language skills with her.
Dugo nisam govorio hrvatski.
One hour and three cups of coffee later, time to head home. I had forgotten all about eating sticky, sugar cake. As Barak Obama once said…
…Chuffed to bits.
Any cold turkey? Any cravings? So far – no. Perhaps coincidentally a slight headache, though that may be caused by the dull overcast weather or slight dehydration. I am following expert advice and drinking 2-3 litres of water a day while on this WOE (way of eating). On the other hand, I think my blood sugar has already improved. I feel more alert, energetic and awake already. Maybe it’s also because I’ve also given up on drinking cola… Nothing like a good de-tox. Oh, and I feel a lot more cheerful and positive, with an improved attention span.
Today I decided to work from home.
Lead us not into temptation.
That way I avoided colleagues offering me sweets, birthday cake, encouraging me to go on, have the lovely dessert, etc. Close confinement at work, with minimal food in the flat. If it isn’t there, you can’t eat it.
It’s day 1. Let’s see how it all looks on day 56.
Have a healthy day, won’t you!
I’ve been remiss, I know. No blog articles from me for a while. I apologise.
Let’s recap a few facts about me.
So, what is this article about? Well, I’m not Catholic, but I do have a bit of a bad conscience, “ein Schlechtes Gewissen”.
The house group I go to is very multinational: Americans, Africans, Brits, Germans, Malaysians, Chinese, you name it. ABC… G, M and much more. Please don’t get the wrong impression. It’s not a theology seminar, with everyone sitting round piously studying Ezekiel 25:17. We drink tea, we sing worship songs, we pray together, we laugh and joke. All in my beloved mother tongue, English. (Remember Samuel L Jackson when he was reciting from that passage?)
As part of the study we read a chosen text from the bible and chew it over. Hence: bible study. Each of us takes it in turn to read aloud a paragraph. Roger so far?
Now, here is why my bad conscience has crept it. One of our house group members is a nice guy, (Deckname: “Hermann”). But… But… But… his command of the English language is somewhat lacking. (That’s British understatement, by the way.) I frankly also think he is a bit of a “church-shopper,” the kind of person that you don’t see for months because they’ve been going to…
You get the idea. Harumph…
So back to house group/bible study. “Es ist nicht böse gemeint…” but here are my points of frustration.
I can’t help thinking, what would happen if we applied that English proficiency policy to our house group? Notwithstanding Hermann’s being a nice guy, in terms of MoSCoW priorities (Must have, Should have, Could have, Won’t have yet), house group’s must-have is to study the bible. Here I have serious concern. When Hermann’s turn comes to read from the text, he makes me feel like I’m back at infant school again. He speaks so slowly and haltingly in English. (Think of when you were at infant school and your classmate would read out like a Dalek on mogadon.)
Then… the cat… and… the… dog… went… in… to… the… house… and the… maaaaaaa-gicccccccccccccccccc-ian-… cast… a… spell… on… the… dog… and… the… cat…
(Ten minutes later your classmate has finished reading out the sentence, during which time classmates have started rocking back and forth.)
So imagine the double-whammy of a church-shopper who reads in English like a Dalek that has just swallowed a large dose of mogodan, combined with no-show for months on end because he happened to disagree with the text we were studying.
Then add the mispronunciation of Biblical names:
This being after he had heard everyone else reading the same names out in the correct, Anglophone way… Pay attention at the back of the class, puh-lease!
Then there is the “Umschreiben.” This is ironically a difficult word to translate into English. Let me explain by way of worked example. I don’t know the word for “dog” in a given language. I therefore say in your language, “The animal that barks and has four legs and chases cats.” That is Umschreiben. Hermann does a lot of that, a fact which again makes me think, “He’s not quite going to get the discussion if he hasn’t got the vocabulary.”
Am I being too harsh? No? Oh, thank you! You see, I’m thinking of joining a local Albanian-language house group. My Albanian is a bit limited, but they do do a nice cup of tea there, and I like their preacher, and…
Have an Anglophone day, won’t you!
I love to travel, even if only on the local-stopping train round England.
June 1998. I’d been to Gavin’s leaving do. I’d had a few drinks. I was merry, slightly drunk. I board the last train back to Bracknell from Reading.
I sit in one carriage. It’s nearly empty, with just me and a couple of other men. I start to flick through the newspaper for a few minutes. Meantime, I listen in on the two other men sitting opposite me.
I decide to spend the next few minutes listening to them. Time to kill before I reach Bracknell.
One fancies a girl off his course. The other had had a McDonalds for breakfast. Interesting stuff. A good chance for me to practise my language schools. (Three years at sixth form college and four years at university.)
Three minutes before Bracknell, I put the newspaper down.
One minute before Bracknell, Our Boris says to Our Ivan:
Попроси газету у этого толстого козла.
(For those not fluent in Russian: “Ask that fat bloke if you can have his paper.”)
Ginge in Germany, holding his copy of the Evening Standard replies very nonchalantly:
Почему ты сам не спросишь?
Translation: “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Suddenly two very embarrassed and surprised Russians, their faces now as red as the old hammer and sickle flag.
My train stops. I get off.
One word: satisfaction.
Have a multi-lingual day, won’t you!
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
And the day came when it was my turn to fly... and make your writing dreams come true!
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Dreams are fragile. Be careful where you place them.
Working Holiday in Japan
Truth based on facts
Waking Up in the Dream
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