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Corona quarantine diary
מפרסם התגובה: Mervyn Henderson

Thomas T. Frost  Identity Verified
חבר (2014)
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To be bored or not to be Apr 9

Oddly enough the beginning of my April has been very busy, much of it with work from a US home entertainment manufacturer. Some of us are lucky to have end clients that continue to operate during the crisis. But from Europe it's pretty dead. Fortunately I haven't found the time to be bored recently. But who knows where it's all going?

Chris, since you complain about absent grumps, allow me to encourage you by complaining about the missing comma after
'great leader', as what f
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Oddly enough the beginning of my April has been very busy, much of it with work from a US home entertainment manufacturer. Some of us are lucky to have end clients that continue to operate during the crisis. But from Europe it's pretty dead. Fortunately I haven't found the time to be bored recently. But who knows where it's all going?

Chris, since you complain about absent grumps, allow me to encourage you by complaining about the missing comma after
'great leader', as what follows is a non-restrictive clause. I hope it isn't becoming a more widespread Welsh pastime to sabotage the English language. 😁

Dan, once the quarantines and other restrictions are gone, you shall be more than welcome to practice and demonstrate your excellent and valuable tree-felling skills here on my ex-GDR smallholding. I have four dead medium-to-large pines that need to be removed before they fall on their own. To judge by their size, they may well have been planted before the war (don't mention it here). Well, I'll probably end up having to pay some local company to do it, as the pines are way too big for a normal chainsaw and no matter where they fall, they'll damage something. At least I got rid of some prickly shrubs, whatever the damn things are called – in any case a thorny issue.

[Edited at 2020-04-10 10:25 GMT]
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Chris S
Dan Lucas
 

Brian Joyce  Identity Verified
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The dark world of my billionaire lifestyle Apr 9

An article on the BBC App, a great read, poor Sergai is down to his last £70 million, nearly had me in tears.

Mervyn Henderson
 

Chris S  Identity Verified
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Overcoming overcommaing Apr 9

Thomas T. Frost wrote:
Chris, since you complain about absent grumps, allow me to encourage you by complaining about the missing comma after
'great leader', as what follows is a non-restrictive clause. I hope it isn't becoming a more widespread Welsh pastime to sabotage the English language. 😁

Well, Tom, oops, Thomas, much as I admire and appreciate such a noble foray into the fine Britannic tradition of pointless grammatical nit-picking, we may have to agree to disagree here.

Although I was on my phone, which would automatically half-excuse an abominable error of this kind, I am relieved on further review to see that said clause is in fact restrictive, so the absence of a comma is not just correct but crucial.

Of course, our country cousins across the water would claim that I must therefore use that not which, but I would counter that that that is optional in proper English and that that that rule is a colonial aberration.

Much, of course, is personal. I for one cannot abide the Oxford comma, which to my eyes is as American as it gets, whatever its origins; yet the number one nit-picker of this parish swings the other way.

(Here’s a thought: Is a lousy nit-picker good or bad at their job?)

In all seriousness, though, Thomas, I do greatly admire your English. One suspects that if we were to meet, one might not have to shout slowly at you at all.


Thomas T. Frost
Dan Lucas
Mervyn Henderson
 

Thomas T. Frost  Identity Verified
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Over- or undercommaing observations Apr 9

Hmm, I was under the distinct impression that the Proz bunker had only one Great Leader, so a clause to identify which one would seem pointless, which means, incidentally, that that sentence should not be commaless but comma inclusive.

And now we’re nitpicking, since you were quite clearly suffering from a bout of grumpiness withdrawal symptoms (which I’m graciously trying to relieve), we could debate whether nitpicking should be spelt nit-picking.

We could also, fo
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Hmm, I was under the distinct impression that the Proz bunker had only one Great Leader, so a clause to identify which one would seem pointless, which means, incidentally, that that sentence should not be commaless but comma inclusive.

And now we’re nitpicking, since you were quite clearly suffering from a bout of grumpiness withdrawal symptoms (which I’m graciously trying to relieve), we could debate whether nitpicking should be spelt nit-picking.

We could also, for now, put a full stop to this pointless debate, which would thus no longer be pointless – or should I say fullstopless – as from the point at which said full stop was pointed out.

That that which which you referred to was not a that, but a which (which many Telegraph journalists would presumably spell ‘witch’ – just today they wrote about the coronavirus situation: ‘if people do not head the warnings’, which sounds like an interesting spectacle to behold, people heading warnings around in a park or elsewhere, which would presumably get them arrested for flouting social-distancing rules – but I’m digressing) would obviously confuse an American, but on our shores it’s quite obvious that that that that you discussed is optional and may be freely substituted by a which which may not be preceded by a comma, which would completely change the meaning.

It’s quite an interesting observation that the Oxford comma can be called American, since Oxford, i.e. the original one, not the many pirate copies in the US and elsewhere, does appear to be quite English, but nevertheless Americans do indeed seem to be enamoured with this particular Oxford feature, whereas the British aren’t. I’m not a fan of it either. I wonder if at any point in time a homecommaing campaign has been attempted for the purpose of reintroducing the Oxford comma to Oxford and its surroundings, but the government would probably find a way to tax or quarantine such an American reimport.

You asked, ‘Here’s a thought: Is a lousy nit-picker good or bad at their job?’ It’s a tricky question indeed. I guess it depends on what the nitpicker’s job is and what said nitpicker’s job performance is, since being a nitpicker (with or without a hyphen) doesn’t imply that the nitpicker’s job is to nitpick stuff that may or may not need to be nitpicked.

Your closing remark was: ‘In all seriousness, though, Thomas, I do greatly admire your English. One suspects that if we were to meet, one might not have to shout slowly at you at all.’

Thank you. That’s good to hear. Yours isn’t too bad either, if I may say so, notwithstanding any pointless comma issues. Shouting slowly might not be quite necessary. Maybe just shouting or talking slowly would be sufficient. Shouting would just frighten my cat, by the way. I can talk about my multilingual feline vocabulary another time. For now, let me just give a single example of how I rationalised saying ‘meow out’ to her when she’s about to go out, by trimming it to just ‘me-out’. My daughter insists that it’s not because she understands it she then goes out, but because she was about to go out anyway.

Should you wish to assist Dan’s potential Teutonic tree-felling endeavours, you’ll be very welcome. If you warn me in advance, I can be sure to procure a megaphone.

[Edited at 2020-04-10 11:41 GMT]
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Brian Joyce
Chris S
 

Balasubramaniam L.  Identity Verified
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חבר (2006)
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Update from Mumbai Apr 10

Today is the 17th day of a 21-day lock-out called by our PM Narendra Modi. Looking back, time seems to have flown - so much has happened that I hardly noticed the turning of the leaves of the calendar.

My daughter is in the 12th standard, unfortunately for her, the last of her exams got postponed due to the lockout. Many of the competitive exams she will be appearing in May-June (like the IIT entrance exam) have also been postponed - indefinitely. Although she is quite thrilled at t
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Today is the 17th day of a 21-day lock-out called by our PM Narendra Modi. Looking back, time seems to have flown - so much has happened that I hardly noticed the turning of the leaves of the calendar.

My daughter is in the 12th standard, unfortunately for her, the last of her exams got postponed due to the lockout. Many of the competitive exams she will be appearing in May-June (like the IIT entrance exam) have also been postponed - indefinitely. Although she is quite thrilled at the extended "vacation", we are really concerned about her future, as there is a good chance that she might lose a whole academic year.

She sleeps most of the time, and binge-watches videos. We don't grudge her this "lucky" break, as for the last two years she has really slogged with her studies, what with full-time school followed by 4-5 hours of tuition every day. She would leave home at 7 am and come back only at night at 9 or 10 pm. Then there word be home work and assignments to complete, which means she would stay up till 1 am in the night and sometimes even later. We were really concerned about her health.

I soon decided that the "vacation" should be put to good use for her. So I have enrolled her into a Sanskrit learning course of Sanskrit Bharati and am teaching her basic Sanskrit for an hour every day. It is amazing how fast kids pick up a new language, although Sanskrit is not exactly "new" to Indians, as all modern Indian languages are derived from Sanskrit.

I too enrolled myself for a full time MA in Sanskrit last August, so I too am into full-time Sanskrit studies during the two years of sabbatical I have given myself from my translation chores. Regrettably, my college too is under lock-down. Otherwise this is the time for our second semester examinations. Now all that schedule has been turned topsy-turvy. I am using the time to revise up the Sanskrit portions of my course. It is quite challenging what with Paninian grammar and Vedas and Kalidas and the six schools of Indian philosophy to study. We have very good teachers here at the Somaiya Vidyavihar University who are conducting online lectures in Sanskrit to keep us from drifting away too much from our Sanskrit studies.

Mumbai, where I stay, is the worst hit in India, but compared to what is happening in the rest of the world, we seem to be in a comfortable position, with cases around 5,000 with about 170 deaths so far. The worrying part is that the state of Maharashtra in which Mumbai falls in the worst hit, with Mumbai reporting the maximum number of cases and casualties.

So there is a stringent lock-out here, with all us cooped up in our flats not allowed even to step out of our doors. So far there is no difficulty in sourcing provisions, but lack of exercise is a problem, as I am a diabetic and have been advised at least two hours of walking every day.

I have exhausted all the serials and movies of Netflix and am scouring other sources of content. I binge-watched the Zoo tele-serial on Netflix which is eerily similar to what is happening now.
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Chris S
 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
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Friday 10 April, Good Friday (well, good …) Apr 10

“Sánchez warns lockdown will be extended to mid-May”, snarls the headline. Like we never saw that one coming. So let’s think June. But the 24-hour deaths are more or less stable. Now there’s a strange sentence, deaths are stable.

The good news for Chris S is that the balderdash & tosh quota may be moving up today, what with this “Moan to Mervyn” plea I’ve just received below. Any similarities to previous postings are strictly unavoidable. What you see is what you get.
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“Sánchez warns lockdown will be extended to mid-May”, snarls the headline. Like we never saw that one coming. So let’s think June. But the 24-hour deaths are more or less stable. Now there’s a strange sentence, deaths are stable.

The good news for Chris S is that the balderdash & tosh quota may be moving up today, what with this “Moan to Mervyn” plea I’ve just received below. Any similarities to previous postings are strictly unavoidable. What you see is what you get. And later on, just as soon as I’ve got it together, it’s Friday Cookery Day again.

Dear Mervyn,

It’s my mother-in-law. Her husband died of utter desperation, I reckon, for she's a dreadful, loud, dominant woman, my mother-in-law. She’s a fiend in human form. Such a temper. Unreasonable isn’t in it. She was born somewhere near hell, I think. She’s always around, either here or on the phone, do this, do that, ordering me about. I have these horrible dreams every single night of her chasing me on the back of an alligator, you know. It’s awful – I’m running as fast as I can, but they're always right on my heels. I look back and see the bloodshot yellow eyes, the sharp fangs drooling stringy saliva, the dry scaly skin, I hear the blood-curdling roars and the snap and crunch of the jaws opening and closing, and smell swampy, foetid breath blowing hot over my shoulder. And then there’s the alligator. I wake up in a cold sweat, I’m telling you. Please help me – I’m at the end of my tether.

Best regards,


Henpecked
….

I swung into action as follows:


Dear Henpecked,

Now let’s not get carried away. What you have to do is control yourself, and try and concentrate on getting her on side. On your side. It’s all child psychology and hairdressers, you know. Yes, hairdressers. What you have to do is actually very simple. Just choose your moment and stare at her, if you can bring yourself to stare at her, for a second or two, as if puzzled, and then say: “Have you been to the hairdresser’s?” – She’ll say “No, why?” – and you say, “Oh I just thought you had, because your hair looks kind of very, er, kind of bouncy, big and alive, looking good, you know.” Or you can say: “Have you … well, I don’t like to make so bold as to … but … have you lost weight at all, er, lately?” – “No, why do you ask?” - I thought you looked a bit, well, lighter, that’s all.”

But the hair thing is the best bet of them all. Since she probably knows you hate her, she’s suspicious, but she imagines you of all people would hardly tell her this kind of thing. She won’t do it in front of you, but she’ll make a beeline for the nearest mirror to check herself out. Vanity, vanity, all is vanity, and certainly an older woman’s vanity doesn’t allow her to discard such comments, particularly if they’re from an unlikely source, so they cheer her up and she thinks as she preens herself in the mirror, “If this bozo, who doesn’t have any reason to say so, thinks I look good without having gone to the hairdresser’s, just think how I would look if I really did go.”

And so the trap closes. Any suspicions she may have had collapse quicker than a Belgian government, and she high-tails it to the hairdresser, who does the rest for you. Because, whereas you or I just walk into a male hairdresser’s and say “short back and sides, please, Fred, and maybe a little something for the weekend”, and then tut-tut and tsk-tsk inanely about the referee’s eyesight during the match yesterday, perhaps glance briefly at our reflection in the mirror three or four times throughout the whole process, and are out again within a quarter of an hour, just crossing the threshold of the hairdresser’s is the start of a massive ego trip for all women across the entire gamut of attractiveness, the first phase in a process entailing hundreds of hopeful stares into a mirror over a proportionately short period of time.

And across the whole range of ages, too. Let’s not forget we’re talking here about genuine specialists in old trouts. The older the customers are, and especially the more attractive they once were, the larger the quantities of psychological love-me lather that have to be expertly frothed up and laid on thicker than the tarmac on a Heathrow runway. Hairdressers are really psychologists to make women who don’t feel and look so good any more feel and look much better, and so there’s no such thing as going over the top. They make up for the physical impossibility of rectifying the inevitable incipient decrepitude and decay caused by the passage of time with an endless flurry of sycophantic squawking, clucking and cooing, and no woman at a hairdresser’s can get enough of that sort of thing. They lap it up like a cat at a huge bowl of cream. Especially if the hairdresser is another woman - after a certain age a woman finds herself in constant competition and comparison with every other woman on the planet. Yes, I mean all of them. No, no, because I can just see you shaking your head reading this, even daughters and mothers. Especially daughters and mothers, in fact. Doesn’t get any easier because it’s family, you know. Worse, in fact, because family know better than anyone else about all those embarrassing cracks and blemishes and hidden flaws and loose fixtures and creaky, leaky pipes under the fading paintwork and fissured plaster. Thus the idea of another female sucking up to them is even more attractive, and better still if it’s a large gaggle of them. Have you ever listened in at a women’s hairdresser’s? …

“Hello, it’s just WONDERFUL to see you again, Marjorie. WHAT a beautiful dress/bag/skirt/coat”, they say as the hapless prey creeps in for her personal ego massage. “That Catherine Zeta-Jones had one just like yours in a film I saw last night. So where have you been HIDING, Marjorie my love? Only a FORTNIGHT since the last session? Really? – that’s funny, seems like more, we’ve all MISSED you, haven’t we girls? I was just saying to Doris yesterday what a LAUGH we always have with Marjorie, wasn’t I Doris? Big-hearted Marjorie, I call her, don’t I Doris, yes I do. The usual, is it, dear, a blue rinse? Of COURSE. Just sit down over there, my darling, make yourself comfortable, yes, take that BIG COMFY one over there, oh yes, it RECLINES too, I had you SPECIALLY in mind when I bought it - Marjorie would LOVE that chair, I said, didn’t I Doris, yes I did. Doris will take your coat, yes of COURSE, have a nice little read at the Daily Mail until one of the girls can get back to you. OOOH, don’t you smell GOOD! – now don’t tell me, let me guess … it’s that NEW one by Yves Saint Laurent, isn’t it, God rest his soul? No? I could have SWORN it was. Just LOOK at Marjorie’s gloss lipstick, girls. It’s just so HER, isn’t it? God knows what you need US for to give you beauty treatment, Marjorie, it’s US that need YOU, naaaaaaaaarrrrrrrr!!!!!!”

Female hairdressers, Henpecked, know that what their customers want is a no-nonsense, industrial-sized shot of me-me-me-look-at-me medicine in the arm, or in the hair, rather. This is a place where the adulation is on tap, flowing like sick at closing time outside the Bricklayer’s Arms after the Boddington’s Yard of Ale contest on a Friday night. Adulation at a price, mind. Understand that’s why it costs so much, because what they’re paying for is two hours of complete devotion to their appearance by a bevy of competing females but, although you’ll hear a mother-in-law complaining about many, many things in this life, shrilly denouncing this, that and the other morning, noon and night, over and over and over again as you stare into the middle distance, mentally on your knees with head bowed, a beaten man begging your God to show you He exists, to manifest Himself with a miracle to take away your pain, some fortuitous instance of force majeure you can’t possibly be blamed, penalised or incarcerated for - anything, for Christ’s sake, anything at all, a runaway horse, a bolt of lightning frazzling both the umbrella and the woman holding it to protect that hair against the rain, a solitary rogue tile falling on her from a dodgy roof, a rusty bolt suddenly snapping in two on the safety barrier at the edge of a cliff-path high above the sea pounding the rocks down below, a tragic dénouement to a shoot-out with Special Branch following an armed robbery with hostages gone terribly wrong at the NatWest, or whatever, you will never ever hear the slightest trace of a complaint about the price of a hair-do.

So man up, Henpecked, invite her round for lunch, lay your plans, and do what you have to do.
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Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
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@Brian Apr 10

Sad indeed. I assume this is the news piece:


https://www.bbc.com/news/stories-52091928


Sergei and Alexandra, Alexandra and Sergei. A fairy tale that turned into a hairy tale.


[Edited at 2020-04-10 09:59 GMT]


Brian Joyce
MAKENSON BERNADEAU
 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
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And finally … Apr 10

Cookery Day. I know you’re going to laugh, and I’m expecting a horrendous backlash from the Spanish translator community too, but today I’m going to explain how to make Spanish tortilla. Don’t knock it. They take their tortilla seriously here. They even have competitions. There are a couple of places in Bilbao and, I suspect, in every town and city, famed for their tortilla. One of them was Bar Baviera, a Bilbao classic not 5 minutes from this very abode, which sadly closed on New Year... See more
Cookery Day. I know you’re going to laugh, and I’m expecting a horrendous backlash from the Spanish translator community too, but today I’m going to explain how to make Spanish tortilla. Don’t knock it. They take their tortilla seriously here. They even have competitions. There are a couple of places in Bilbao and, I suspect, in every town and city, famed for their tortilla. One of them was Bar Baviera, a Bilbao classic not 5 minutes from this very abode, which sadly closed on New Year’s Eve for good, after over 25 years of tortilla with or without hot red pepper “alegrías” on the side of the plate, served up by Juan in the mornings or Jon in the evenings (and vice-versa, week about).

Ingredients:
One smallish potato per person
One smallish onion per person
One and a half eggs per person
Olive oil
Chorizo
Small bottle of beer (oh yes)

Yes, I know, I’m streets ahead of you here. What if there are only three of you? How many eggs? You know what, live dangerously and stick in five eggs, what the hell. And I only put in chorizo to tease the Spanish. So ditch the chorizo. I phoned Jamie Oliver, and he said it’s OK wivout.

Chop up the onion. Not too fine and not too chunky, inbetween. Stick it on low heat in a finger or two of olive oil in a frying pan (the spuds have to fit in afterwards, so you need some floating room there). Meanwhile, you’ve already peeled the spuds. Sometimes, if I haven’t got the time, I simply can’t fight off the temptation to just cut the potatoes lengthways, cut them crossways and slice through the middle to produce cubes. But the Basques are snooping around all the time, so you have to take your little knife and cut uneven bits at random off the potatoes schloop-schloop-schloop as you hold them in one hand. They say it improves the flavour. Yeah, right.

By now the onions will have softened and will be all shiny. Dump in the potato and turn up the heat slightly. Stir it all round a bit occasionally with a wooden spatula, make sure all the bits get done evenly.
The eggs, well, the eggs are self-explanatory. Beat them in a large bowl and add one pinch of salt per person.
Just as the potato is beginning to lightly brown, switch off and use a slotted spoon to drain and put all the bits into the egg mix.

Now the dangerous bit. You can use the same frying pan if you like, or a smaller one, depends on the numbers. Clean it or use another one, non-stick, but put only a tablespoon or so of oil back in. Highish heat, swirling the oil all around so that it puts a bit of a film on most of the pan. Throw in the eggy mixture, and start lifting the edges a little and letting liquid run down to the sides to make sure it’s all being cooked.
Note: don’t wait until all the eggy liquid has gone. A good tortilla should have a certain amount of liquid egginess to it, otherwise you might as well buy the crappy dry ones wrapped in plastic at the supermarket.
Move the pan around to make sure the tortilla is fully mobile.

Take a saucepan lid. Now open that bottle of beer ahead of the moment of truth. Down it in one, wipe your mouth and say Aaaaaah! Call in the kids/wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend. This is a mere pretext for witnesses, naturally. Say nonchalantly: “Could you open the wine, dear, because I’m nearly finished?” or “Set the table, will you, this is ready”. Like you didn't care, see. Like you do this all the time.

Go to the sink (just in case you fess up …). Place the lid over the pan and deftly turn the whole thing over on to the lid. Slide it off the lid into the pan again, return it to the hob for two seconds to “wipe its arse”, as they say in the trade (well, I do), switch off and slide on to a plate, hopefully amidst open-mouthed admiration, but reserve a quiet tight-lipped dignity if nobody says squat. Serve with side salad, those red peppers or anything at all, really.
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Beatriz Ramírez de Haro
 

Andrew Morris
Local time: 01:53
ProZ.com team
Tackling tedium Apr 10

Mervyn

I for one greatly appreciate your efforts to liven up the existence of Chris S, who appears to have succumbed to a modish début-de-siècle ennui.

For my part, I am open-mouthed with admiration. Given that we now have access to every book ever written, every song ever sung, every film ever made, the entire Internet, the immense depth of our own thoughts, the marvels of cookery, art and sport within our own home, the seductive draw of our work AND the endle
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Mervyn

I for one greatly appreciate your efforts to liven up the existence of Chris S, who appears to have succumbed to a modish début-de-siècle ennui.

For my part, I am open-mouthed with admiration. Given that we now have access to every book ever written, every song ever sung, every film ever made, the entire Internet, the immense depth of our own thoughts, the marvels of cookery, art and sport within our own home, the seductive draw of our work AND the endless delights of this forum, to be able to experience boredom in 2020 is an impressive achievement.

Who was it again who said When a man is tired of life, he's tired of life?

Personally, I have a preference for Blaise Pascal's: Tout le malheur des hommes vient d'une seule chose, qui est de ne savoir pas demeurer en repos, dans une chambre.
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Chris S  Identity Verified
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Bric-à-brac Apr 10

Andrew, all the translations on the Internet that I can see are along the lines of:

“All of man's misfortune comes from one thing, which is not knowing how to *sit* quietly in a room”

Sadly, sitting is not an option for me in my current condition.

Interestingly, though, Google Translate gets it right (😱):

“All the misfortune of men comes from one thing, which is not knowing how to stay at rest, in a room”


Couple o
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Andrew, all the translations on the Internet that I can see are along the lines of:

“All of man's misfortune comes from one thing, which is not knowing how to *sit* quietly in a room”

Sadly, sitting is not an option for me in my current condition.

Interestingly, though, Google Translate gets it right (😱):

“All the misfortune of men comes from one thing, which is not knowing how to stay at rest, in a room”


Couple of other things:

Mervyn, why are you calling an omelette a tortilla? I’m tempted to retaliate by posting a recipe for toad in the hole and calling it spotted dick.

Thomas might enjoy yesterday’s BBC headline: “Italy PM: EU needs to help virus hit countries”. Sounds counterproductive.

And then one for both Thomas and Bala (or is it L?): Which punctuation can I take most heart from when my son blurted out the other day: “You’re a shit dad” or “You’re a shit, Dad”?
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Thomas T. Frost
 

Andrew Morris
Local time: 01:53
ProZ.com team
Other postures are available Apr 10

Chris S wrote:


Sadly, sitting is not an option for me in my current condition.



I had no idea. Hope you are ok.

Anyway, I'm sure it applies to standing or lying down too. Even plain old "being" would do.

Pascal was a philosopher and mathematician rather than a Pilates teacher.


 

Thomas T. Frost  Identity Verified
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Italy Apr 10

Chris S wrote:

Thomas might enjoy yesterday’s BBC headline: “Italy PM: EU needs to help virus hit countries”. Sounds counterproductive.

And then one for both Thomas and Bala (or is it L?): Which punctuation can I take most heart from when my son blurted out the other day: “You’re a shit dad” or “You’re a shit, Dad”?




Well, with all the war parallels being mentioned, what with Her Majesty (and Matt) referring to Vera Lynn and the media referring to Boris as a wartime PM (at least as long as he was able to stand up), the BBC may have become stuck in the in the wartime mindset and subconsciously concluded that Italy may be planning to attack their neighbours with a virus.

They may also just have been infected by the contemporary American fashion of leaving out hyphens in compound adjectives, of course.

Or perhaps their editor has been infected by the virus.

Regardless of the punctuation, your son may need some positive encouragement, unless he had his mouth full of sweets and really intended to say, ‘you’re a cheat, dad’ (perhaps he believed you had cheated in a game). Some people find it difficult to distinguish between the ‘ch’ sound and the ‘sh’ sounds, particularly here in Germany, where I was asked for a shipkarte (ship card) one of the first times I went to see a doctor after moving to Germany. I wondered why they thought I had a ship or at least a card related to a ship and what that had to do with the doctor, so I asked them what a shipkarte was. What they meant was ‘chip card’, the purpose of which is to streamline the payment process, as healthcare isn’t free here.

Nobody speaks English here and some of them don’t even speak German, but an undecipherable Saxon dialect, which reminds me of Luxemburgish, which is equally undecipherable.


Chris S
 

Christel Zipfel  Identity Verified
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Quarantine tortilla Apr 11

Mervyn Henderson wrote:

Cookery Day. I know you’re going to laugh, and I’m expecting a horrendous backlash from the Spanish translator community too, but today I’m going to explain how to make Spanish tortilla.


You won't believe it, but suddenly when I read this recipe, I could not help but prepare a tortilla on the spot!
Of course, getting chorizo is not easy when you are in quarantine and even less outside Spain. So I went without chorizo.
Like every good German I have always sufficient potatoes at home, and I had got some eggs and onions, too. So there was everything I needed. The only difference compared to the recipe, I salted the potatoes after having fried them. As I was so statisfied with the result, I'll prepare another tortilla probably next week.:-)

No beer, since I had been shopping last time only two days ago and there are disheartening lines in front of the supermarkets.

Happy Easter to everyone that is in quarantine or not, stay healthy and keep distance anyway




[Bearbeitet am 2020-04-11 19:32 GMT]


 

Thomas T. Frost  Identity Verified
חבר (2014)
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Chorizo Apr 11

Christel Zipfel wrote:

Of course, getting chorizo is not easy when you are in quarantine and even less outside Spain.


Better keep an eye on the Lidl catalogue, then, and grab some when it's Spanish week.


 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
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Local time: 01:53
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TOPIC STARTER
@Christel - good job you couldn't get any chorizo Apr 11

Good for you! But ...

I realise I didn't explain myself very well or, looking back at what I wrote, I only explained myself cryptically. The chorizo is only a joke. British chef Jamie Oliver caused considerable controversy last year or the year before when he suggested chorizo could also be used in Spanish paella. Having said that, you'll see all kinds of tortilla all over Spain, but the classic "tortilla española" or "tortilla de patata" has just egg and potato and onion. The onio
... See more
Good for you! But ...

I realise I didn't explain myself very well or, looking back at what I wrote, I only explained myself cryptically. The chorizo is only a joke. British chef Jamie Oliver caused considerable controversy last year or the year before when he suggested chorizo could also be used in Spanish paella. Having said that, you'll see all kinds of tortilla all over Spain, but the classic "tortilla española" or "tortilla de patata" has just egg and potato and onion. The onion is optional for many people, and so you might be asked in a bar which you prefer if they have both on offer at the counter. Although personally it wouldn't occur to me make one without onion. Onion gives it a certain amount of oomph.


[Edited at 2020-04-12 07:50 GMT]
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Beatriz Ramírez de Haro
expressisverbis
 
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