English translation howlers

From Funny or Die site (thanks)

From the Peter Haining Archive. These are taken from a collection compiled by Thomas Cook employees in Nottingham during the period 1987 – 95:

‘You are invited to take advantage of the chambermaid ‘

Notice in Japanese hotel

‘Ladies are requested not to have children in the bar’

Announcement in Norwegian cocktail lounge.

‘The lift is being fixed. During that time we regret you will be unbearable’

Notice in a Bucharest hotel lobby.

‘The flattening of underwear with pleasure is the job of the chambermaid’

Notice in a Yugoslav hotel.

‘Our wines leave you with nothing to hope for ‘.

Swiss restaurant menu.

‘Ladies may have fit upstairs’

Outside a Hong Kong tailors

‘Special today—no ice cream’

Swiss mountain inn

‘Order your summer suit. Because of big rush we will execute customers in strict rotation’

In a Rhodes tailors.

‘We take your bag and send it in all directions’

Copenhagen airline ticket

‘Teeth extracted by the latest Methodists’

Hong Kong dentist 

[R.R.]

A voyage to Russia in 1908 & 1965 (1)

Found- an anonymous account of a a trip to Russia on The Salsette in 1908 written by a young woman of an artistic bent. There is a certain amount about the ship, mostly at Shona's Wrecks (many thanks) which mention this voyage to Northern European cities, the Salsette's first major outing. In 1915 the ship was hit by a torpedo and lies 600 feet down off Portland Bill, now a favourite wreck for divers to explore.In 1965, probably by then in her mid 70's, our diarist flew back to Russia and remarks on the changes (to follow).

ON BOARD “THE SALSETTE”

20th August, 1908
 It has been rather rough and cold all day but for all that I have greatly enjoyed it. I was so tired after last night that I slept on till past 9 o'clock this morning, and then had breakfast in bed. All the competitions have started again, and out of the two I have played to-day I have again won one. It has been very nice and restful having another whole day at sea - one gets so frightfully tired sightseeing. Every town we have been to see so far has been paved with cobble stones, roads and pavements alike, and this, especially when one has thin soles to one's shoes, very quickly makes one's feet ache.

 I cannot yet quite realise that to-morrow morning when I wake up we shall really be in Russia! I am looking forward to it with very mixed feelings. It will seem so strange to be regarded by everyone with the greatest suspicion and to feel that many of the people against whom one brushes in the streets may be either police spies or anarchists. But oh! it ought all to be so fearfully interesting - I only wish I were more accustomed and better able to write down my impressions. I am conscious of the different atmosphere (this is the only word I can think of to explain what I mean) that envelope all the new countries to which we have been, yet I find it dreadfully difficult to put into words all I feel and see. But I must just let everything soak into me, and simply content myself with writing here the bare actual facts, and without doubt all I see and feel will influence the whole of my nature, and deepen my understanding and make altogether a greater artist.


Friday 21st August
 When I came on board this morning I found the whole place swarming with Russian officials of every kind and description, and the ship herself entirely surrounded by Russian warships. Somehow my first impression was horribly gruesome. Standing right out on the water - one on either side of us, are two big great buildings, these are prisons and fortresses combined,

Lovat Fraser on Sty Head Pass

A news clipping from 1919 found pasted to the endpapers of Hall Caine's The Story of a Crime. It is by the artist Lovat Fraser  - obviously a lover of the area, but keen on sharing it with others to the extent of wanting a road to it. He seems to be talking about a sort of Edwardian nimby but as far as I know the road was never built, although the campaign had been going on for about 15 years. Fraser writes well, some of the descriptions of scenery are reminiscent of John Buchan..

Sty Head Pass

The fate of the proposed road over Sty Head Pass, in the Lake District, may be decided today at Carlisle. I have read dozens of protests against the scheme, not one word in its favour. With some trepidation, I wish to take the lists against the crag  climbers on the fell wanderers and to back Mr. Musgrave of Wastdale and his road.

Here is my own experience. Late last October I went through lovely Borrowdale to Seathwaite and walked over the Sty Head Pass down towards Wastdale, and back. Everybody who visits Lakeland has heard about Seathwaite which has the reputation of being the wettest place in England, and has earned it.

By a miracle I struck one of those rare windless autumn days which sometimes break a long wet season. The atmosphere was crystal clear, without a trace of haze, the mountains were steeped in warm sunshine. They told me at Seathwaite that there had been be no such glorious day all last year.  As I sat and smoked my pipe by the cairn at the summit of the pass, and stared down the tremendous gorge between Great Gable and Scafell at the patch of emerald green at Wastdale Head far below I felt I had garnered another lifelong memory.

I spent the best part of the day on the pass sketching and taking a photograph or two. In all that time I never saw a single human being. That is my case for the road.

Sty Head Pass is, so far as I know, the wildest and grandest piece of scenery in England. Even in sunlight it is grimly majestic, a mighty altar, the sort of spot I never dreamed existed in this country. Instead of being known merely to a few people who regard the fells and crags as their private preserve, it ought to be visited every year by tens of thousands of humble folk who can never hope to see the Alps or the Himalayas.

One travels for remembrance. The chief joy of travel is in retrospect. Men build picture galleries for the multitude, but why not show people the most glorious pictures of Nature? Why not help them to store their minds with memories which, as every traveller knows, are an alleviation in times of trial and a solace in old age? The vivid recollection of Styhead Pass as I saw it is worth all the pictures ever painted.

These few climbers and others up forgather at Wastdale Head and other places are trying to keep their Scafell sanctuary to themselves; because that is what all this agitation really means. They may talk of desecration and pretend to tilt against motorists, but they are really precious souls who shrink from contact with the masses.

They do not want tens of thousands to see this mountain fastness. They want to draw a veil between the nation and its heritage. They represent exactly the spirit which leads men to enclose a big park keep it selfishly for their private enjoyment.

This road is needed because Styhead is just too remote to be easily reached and crossed by people who are not well-to-do. The pass is just too steep and difficult for those not in full vigour. Until the road is made, the finest of the western lakes will never be seen by most visitors to Lakeland.

Illustration by Lovat Fraser