Central Time oor Kornies

Central Time

eienaam, naamwoord

The time zone in central North America corresponding to UTC minus six hours during standard time, and UTC minus five hours during daylight savings time

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

Termyn an Gresparth

Soortgelyke frases

Central Time Zone
Parth Termyn an Gresparth

voorbeelde

Central Time Zone
/ Parth Termyn an Gresparth / / /

Central Time
/ Termyn an Gresparth / / /

We have not been impressed by the responses from Central Government to date and will continue to press for the Government in Westminster to allow us to reintroduce meaningful sanctions, including suspensions from the Council, when the breaches of the Code might warrant it. Polperro has golden sunshine (most of the time), silver sands (except at high tide) and jewels everywhere.
Ny veun ni gweskys gans an gorthebow dhyworth Governans Kresel bys y’n eur ma ha ni a wra pesya ynnia rag an Governans S. Stefan gasa dhyn daskomendya keredhow effeythus, y’ga mysk astelyow a’n Konsel, pan y’n dendillo torvaow an Goden.

THE FIRST LECTURE ‘For the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming, ...’ That old patriotic anthem from World War Two rolled about in my head as I sat in a cell beside my brother. I even started to sing it but David glared at me – he never did like to hear me singing. (Nobody does!) So, just as I had heard, there were foreign troops on the way to reinforce the local effort. What this meant, of course, was that the ‘war’ against the zombie menace was by no means over. And, if you thought about it, that was no surprise. As I had speculated at the time of the battle at Melbourne University, a primary area of 400,000 square kilometres had been taken over by the zombies – and outbreaks were occurring all the time beyond that zone. So, despite the fact that thousands of zombies had been machine-gunned and napalmed at the university, there were hundreds of thousands of them still roaming the countryside – and they, in their turn, were still actively ‘conscripting’ yet more to the cause (whatever that might be). And, as a result, David and I were to be used to show these fresh-faced doughboys what a zombie looked like. I was to be the ‘before’ image and David was to be the ‘after’ – like in one of those old comic-book advertisements for body-building equipment. Was I ‘Skinny John’? Would I have sand kicked in my face? Probably not. I guessed we had been taken to Puckapunyal, the largest army base in Victoria. It was in Central Victoria, two or three hours by army truck from Castlemaine. So, the interminable journey in the paddy wagon fitted with that geography (once corrected for time distortion due to blindfolding.) If my guess on our location were correct – and this would be a logical place to train foreign soldiers in Australian conditions, away from the primary zone of infection – that was good news. Once again, my cadet training would come in handy.
AN KYNSA ARETH “Rag y teu an yankis, y teu an yankis ...” An antemna koth na, meur y wlaskerensa, a dheuth dhiworth oes an Nessa Bresel an Bys, a rolyas a-dro dhe’m ympynnyon ha my esedhys ryb ow broder yn bagh. My a dhallathas hogen y gana mes Davydh a lagattas heb hedhi orthymm – ny garas nevra klywes ow henys. (Denvyth ny’n kar!) Ytho, ow nowodhow re via ewn, yth esa soudoryon estrenyek ow tos rag krevhe stryvyans a’n tyller. Hemm a styrya, heb mar, nag o gorfennys vyth an ‘bresel’ erbynn godros an zombis. Ha, mar prederres yn y gever, ny via henna marth. Kepar dell dhesevsen dres termyn batel an bennskol Melbourne, yth esa chyf arenebedh ogas dhe 400,000 km pedrek lemmyn kontrolyes gans an zombis – hag yth esa pup-prys tardhow nowydh ow hwarvos dres an arenebedh na. Ytho, yn despit dhe vernansow a vilyow an zombis – dre jynn-sethow ha napalm – dhe’n bennskol, yth esa hwath kansow a vilyow anedha ow kwandra a-dro dhe bowdir – hag yth esens i, an eyl wosa y gila, ow ‘hesskrifa’, tan meur y’ga holonnow, moy a dus hogen dhe’n movyans (pypynag o henna). Hag ytho y feu Davydh ha my bos diskwedhys, avel mir gwir an zombis, dhe’n ‘dowbois’ ma (henn yw leverel, soudoryon amerikanek), pur fresk aga fismens. Yth en an imaj ‘kyns’ ha Davydh o an imaj ‘wosa’ – kepar ha’n argemmynnow- kommyk koth esa ow mynnes gwertha daffar rag krevhe an korf. A vien ‘Yowann kroenek’? A via tewes potyes y’m fas? Nyns o hemma gwirhaval. My a dhesevas agan bos kemmerys dhe Pukkapunyal, an brassa selva yn Budhykka. Kres Budhykka o vyaj a dhew po tri our dhiworth Kastlemayne dre gert-lu. Ytho, yth heveli bos an termyn ewn rag agan vyaj heb diwedh y’n kertik. (Wosa ewnans rag kammans a dermyn drefenn ow dewlagas dhe vos kudhys.) Mars esa ewn ow thybyans a-dro dh’agan le – nowodhow da o henna. Ha, wosa oll, Pukkapunyal a via tyller herwydh reson rag trenyans soudoryon estrenyek ow kul devnydh a gondysyons Ostralek – mes pellder lowr dhiworth chyf arenebedh an klevesans. Unnweyth arta, ow threnyans avel souder-brentys a allsa bos dhe-les.

Apart from this half-forgotten lecture in jungle warfare, my only knowledge of military tactics came from reading (in Latin) about Rome’s wars with Carthage. Naturally, I still thought of Hannibal as a ‘gun’ General but, given that I didn’t have ready access to any battle elephants, I thought the valuable lessons I had learned from this reading were likely to be of limited use in dealing with the zombie apocalypse – or, for that matter, with any counter-offensive that might then be under weigh. After playing in my mind with the remembered fragments of the lecture from the reg, I turned to David – who had just listened to the radio with me. (Mildly interested – comprehension? I guess next to zero.) “Okay, David, we can forget about Hannibal,” I commenced (David had studied Latin as well). “Let’s think about our time together in the cadets. If the Army was going to form a defensive perimeter around the docklands area, how would they go about it? How far from the docks would they place the perimeter? As far as Central Melbourne? As far as here, at the university?” Naturally, he didn’t answer me. I was just using him as a sounding board. His eyes, however, did seem to look at me quizzically – if dead eyes could ever do that. We still sat in the Activities Office, each of us on one side of the desk upon which sat the transistor radio, currently our portal to the outside world. We sat for a while staring at one another – my mind was racing. His mind ....? Well, I didn’t know what was going on in there - maybe more than I realised. This moment of quiet reflection was abruptly interrupted: ‘Gween’, the zombies’ pet cat, had apparently wandered by and decided to join the party. (She obviously had the run of the building and feared none of its current residents.) She leapt nimbly onto the desk, rubbed against my unprotected arm, bit it sharply and then sauntered over to David as if nothing had happened. The wretch! David, of course, took the furry beast into his arms and clumsily started petting it. In return, the mainly black animal miaowed its appreciation at him, in a decidedly cutesy fashion, and started to purr loudly. After looking adoringly into my brother’s dead eyes for a time, Gween turned her face to me and hissed with apparent conviction.
A-der an areth hanter-ankevys ma a-dro dhe vresel yn gwylgoes, y teuth ow skians tanow a daktegow breselek dhiworth redya (yn Latin) a-dro dhe’n breselyow gans Karthaj. Heb mar, my a grysi hwath Honibal dhe vos pennhembrenkyas awenek mes, drefenn na yllyn kavoes olifansow-batel vyth y’n tor’na, my a brederis na via pur euver an dyskansow talvosek a dhysksen vy. Henn yw leverel, pur stroethys a via ow devnydh anedha rag dyghtya droglamm an zombis – po, gans henna, rag dos erbynn neb gorthomsettyans a allsa bos dallethys ena. Wosa gwari y’m brys vy gans temmyn areth an reg a borthsen kov, my a dreylyas dhe Dhavydh neb re woslowsa orth an radyo genev. (Nebes byghan y les, y gonvedhes o ...? Mann po ogas.) “Da lowr, a Dhavydh, ni a yll ankevi Honibal,” a dhallathis. (Davydh re via studhyer Latinek genev.) “Gwren prederi a-dro dh’agan termyn warbarth avel prentys-soudoryon. Mar mynna tus an lu furvya kylghvusur omwithek a-dro dhe diryow an porthow, fatell wrussens i henna? Dhe by pellder dhiworth an porthow a worrsens i aga honan? Bys Melbourne kresel? Bys omma, an bennskol?” Ny dheuth dhiworto gorthyp vyth – heb mar. Yn hwir, yth esov orth y wul kepar hag astell-senyans. Byttegyns, yth heveli y dhewlagas ev dhe vires orthymm yn unn wovynn – mar kylli dewlagas marow gul henna. Yth eson ni owth esedha hwath y’n Soedhva Bywderyow, pub huni ahanan dhe unn du an desk le mayth esa ow sevel an radyo-transystor, agan portal unnik dhe’n ledanna bys y’n tor’ na. Y remaynsyn owth esedha pols, ow lagatta orth an eyl dh’y gila. Yth esa ow brys vy ow resek toethmen. Y vrys ev ...? Wel, ny wodhyen pyth a hwarva ynno – martesen moy a draow es dell yllyn godhvos. An pols ma a ombrederans hebask a veu goderrys heb gwarnyans: ‘Gwin’, kath veurgerys an zombis, re wandersa a-ogas hag ervira dhe omjunya gans an fest. (Yn apert, hi a ylli mos der an drehevyans dien ha ny berthi own vyth a’n drigoryon erell.) Hi a lammas yn skav war an desk hag omrutya erbynn ow bregh anwithys - ha’y vratha tynn. A-dhistowgh, hi a gerdhas yn lent dhe Dhavydh kepar ha pan hwarsa mann - an kasadow! Heb mar, Davydh a gemmeras an goedhvil blewek yn y dhiwvregh ha dalleth hy handla heb kreft. Yn attal, an enyval ma, du y vlew y’n vrassa rann, a viowlas hy gras dhodho, yn fordh meur y tekter apert, ha dalleth purrya yn ughel. Wosa hy mires yn unn wordhya y’n dhewlagas dres termyn hir, Gwin a dreylyas hy fas dhymmo vy ha sia, kler hy forpos. 137

“Okay,” I replied. “Let’s suppose there is indeed a leading edge to the infection, carried forward by a small band of fleet-footed and unidirectional zombies. They would be travelling at not less than 20km per day – after making a proper allowance for lost time due to their undertaking only absolutely essential murder and mayhem.” “Agreed. A reasonable estimate,” said Paul. “20 km per day for nine days. So, the fastest group of zombies – and therefore the infection itself – is now nearly two hundred km away from central Melbourne.” “But that means the infection would have reached the three major regional cities in Victoria: Geelong, Ballarat and Bendigo,” I observed, stating the obvious. Paul shrugged: “I just hope none of the zombies can drive or fly!” This casual remark – made in jest – made me think of David. You never quite knew what he might be capable of – particularly if he could tap into my mind at will. But there was no time to worry about that possibility now. How many people were within a 200km radius of Melbourne if you included those major regional cities? I didn’t know. I wasn’t up on population statistics at the time. I guessed, maybe, two or three million. And let’s assume that none of the girls (nor gay men?) became zombies, how many potential zombies did that mean? Somewhere between one and one and a half million? Hmm. But, of course, many victims were so badly injured by zombie attack that they simply could not reanimate. Beyond that, perhaps a lot of folk, knowing what was on the way, had fled in front of the leading edge of the epidemic. That would reduce the numbers substantially. Then again, so far as I could see, there had been a total news blackout. So, how would people find out that they needed to flee before it was too late? And, once the numbers of zombies had grown from hundreds to thousands, wouldn’t the leading edge become like an irresistible tidal wave, sweeping all before it? Paul and I calmly debated all of this, debated the end of civilisation as we knew it (or so it seemed) but reached no firm conclusions. The information we had was paltry – we were simply working on guesswork.
“Da lowr,” a worthybis. “Gwren tybi bos yn hwir amal ow ledya dhe’n klevesans, degys war-rag gans bagas byghan zombis, meur aga toeth hag unnik aga fordh a lavuryans. I a allsa lavurya 20 km pub dydh dhe’n lyha – wosa ow kul alowans gwiw rag termyn kellys dre voldrans ha deray (a via hwath res dhe zombis uskis, heb mar.)” “Akordyes. Dismygriv resnadow,” yn-medh Powl. “20 km pub dydh, dres naw dydh. Ytho, uskissa bagas an zombis – hag ytho an klevesans y honan – yw ogas dhe 200 km alemma, Melbourne kresel.” “Henn a styr an klevesans dhe dhrehedhes oll teyr sita veur ranndiryel yn Budhykka: Geelong, Ballarat ha Bendigo,” a leveris vy, ow merkya neppyth hewel. Powl a drehevis y dhiwskoedh: “Govenek yw dhymm na yll nebes anedha lywya po nija!” An kampoell anformel ma – gwrys avel ges – a wrug dhymm prederi a-dro dhe Dhavydh. Ny wodhyen poran pyth a allsa ev gul – yn arbennik mar kylli gul devnydh a’m brys ow honan pan vynna ev. Byttegyns, nyns esa chons vyth rag prederi a-dro dhe henna y’n tor’ na. Pygemmys den esa a-berth yn gwradh a 200 km dhiworth Melbourne mars esa komprehendyes an sitys ranndiryel na? Ny wodhyen vy. Ny ens i, statyskygyon an poblans, aswonnys yn ta dhymm ena. My a dhismygas, martesen, dew po tri milvil dhen. Ha gwren desevos nag esa myrghes vyth (po tus kethreydhel?) neb alsa ha bos zombis. Pygemmys zombi esa y’n wradh na? Yntra onan ha dew vilvil? Hmm. Byttegyns, meur a vyktymys re via shyndyes mar dhrog ma na yllens dasvywya avel zombis. Dres henna, martesen, meur a dus, arvys gans skians an omsettyans a dho, re fiasa dhiworth amal ow ledya an pla. Mars o henna gwir, sommenn an vyktymys re via lehys yn feur. Y’n kontrari part, y fia difenn dien erbynn an nowodhow, dell grysyn. Ytho, fatell dhiskudhsa an dus bos res dhedha a fia kyns bos ragdha re dhiwedhes? Ha, moy es henna, pan devsa sommenn an zombis dhiworth kansow dhe vilyow anedha, an amal ow ledya a via ha bos kepar ha tonn lanow, ow skuba puptra oll a-dherygdhi. Powl ha my a glattras yn hebask a-dro dhe oll an taklow ma, y’ga mysk gorfenn aga hwarheans dell wodhyen ni (po dell heveli dhyn), mes ny yllyn drehedhes konkludyansow fast. Agan derivadow o boghosek – yn hwir, yth esen ni owth assaya gul devnydh a dhismygyans unnsel.