An old junk-shop or an old-junk shop; an old shop that sells curiosities, or a shop that sells old curiosities? One person’s trash is another’s treasure, and I wondered idly whether the Spanish translators hadn’t all got it wrong -perhaps misled by the building’s current, posh aspect- and whether it shouldn’t have been La vieja trapería, or some such. But Dickens:
The place through which he made his way at leisure was one of those receptacles for old and curious things which seem to crouch in odd corners of this town and to hide their musty treasures from the public eye in jealousy and distrust. There were suits of mail standing like ghosts in armour here and there, fantastic carvings brought from monkish cloisters, rusty weapons of various kinds, distorted figures in china and wood and iron and ivory: tapestry and strange furniture that might have been designed in dreams. The haggard aspect of the little old man was wonderfully suited to the place; he might have groped among old churches and tombs and deserted houses and gathered all the spoils with his own hands. There was nothing in the whole collection but was in keeping with himself nothing that looked older or more worn than he.
the store-room of old curiosities
Our maternal, London grandfather had a professional interest in buildings, and once took us on an inspection trip round town, subsidised, to his amused Tory embarrassment, by Reg Goodwin and Evelyn Denington’s free-passes-for-pensioners scheme. I recall thinking that Nell could never have afforded to live there (and the attribution may be spurious).
- Cervantes, prototype for el Cobrador del Frac?
Peter Harvey is suffering from that perennial Spanish problem–translation agencies that don’t pay the modest rates they promise.
This blog enjoys dressing up but has no plans to become for the translation sector what el Cobrador del Frac is for the world at large: a debt collection agency which compensates for a deeply flawed legal system …
- Wurst is German for sausage
Wrust is a Spanish speciality and a Botswanan all-black metal band:
Did they intend to call themselves sausage? How strong is the residual regional influence of German South-West Africa, not to mention boerewors camp?
More namby-pamby posturing from Gaborone:
A very shy black friend once became the lead singer of a moderately good all-white
- French lessons: Grannie on her bike rides across the pool
Boby Lapointe, an obsessive, deranged comic genius who seems to have drunk himself to death aged 50, points to one of the delicious traps lying in wait for elephants who proceed beyond their French-English phrasebooks – the fact that of the supposed infinity of possible sentences in natural language, most are nonsense:
- Buy your knives from Quttin, with thoughts on final /g/s and a poem by Ambrose Bierce
The latest pseudo-anglicism to cheer my bedraggled brain comes from a 20-year-old Albacete knife manufacturer. (See also camping, parking, lifting, shampooing, footing, and Wikipedia.) I like the dropped /g/, which interestingly goes against a trend in Andaluz and increasingly in other versions of Spanish to add a terminal /g/ to words previously ending in /n/. …
- Transformative translation: Schloss
We’re all fucked in the end -the reward for life is death- but meanwhile the profession would be greatly improved if rendered client-free. MM:
My career as a translator of guides to buildings in Central Europe started ignominiously when I gave in to the resident of Schloß Leitheim, who insisted it was Leitheim Castle.