as a driver oor Kornies

as a driver

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

avel lewyer

like a driver

yn lewyer

voorbeelde

as a driver
like a driver / avel lewyer / / /

as a driver
/ yn lewyer / / /

In the year 1912, Reuel joined the army – the Royal Signals regiment. In 1914, he was sent to France, where he was a member of the first British Expeditionary Force – the “Old Contemptibles”. He was an engineer. He served as a train driver or fireman throughout the war. He told me that he drove a train carrying explosives to the front line in the battle of Ypres.
Y’n vledhen 1912, y junyas Reuel an lu — an Kaslu Sinellow Riel. Yn 1914, y feu ev danvenys dhe Bow Frynk, le mayth o ev esel a’n kynsa Lu Eskerdhek Bredennek – “an Vismeryon Goth”. Ynjynor o ev. Ev a servya avel lewyer tren po tangasor dres an vresel. Ev a leveris dhymm ev dhe lewya tren ow ton tanbellenigow dhe’n linenn a-rag y’n vatel a Ypres.

Young people have been involved, not in a tokenistic way, but in a way that is firmly rooted as key partners and drivers for change.
Tus yowynk re beu omvyskys, na yn fordh arwodhek, mes yn fordh may mons i gwreydhyes yn fyrv avel keskowetha alhwedhek ha lewyoryon rag chanj.

While David loitered at the base of the tower, I lay on the uncovered platform – flat on my stomach to avoid being seen – and observed the road. I knew that, for obvious reasons, Captain Mengele could not let us go so easily – and I could not be entirely sure that the Sergeant, upon returning to the base, would not have been forced to divulge what he knew about where he had taken us. After all, he had risked a great deal simply to free us and could not be expected to put his very life on the line for us. (“Aiding the enemy during time of war” was still a capital offence at that time. It was still the firing squad for that sort of thing.) In any event, with about an hour of daylight left, I observed a convoy of, maybe, fifteen vehicles streaming out of the base and coming along the road to Scrub Hill. It must have taken all day to organise such a large search party and this, to my mind, confirmed that Captain Mengele did indeed want us back – or maybe just destroyed. So, the search was on. No problem. We could retreat to our bunker (our own personal ‘Helm’s Deep’?) whenever we chose – there was no rush. I continued to observe the convoy for a time. As it got closer, and I could observe the individual vehicles, I saw the entire convoy slow at a point in the road which was not far away. The leading jeep had broken down and the driver had simply waved the rest of the convoy on. So, it continued to pass him as he lifted the hood of his jeep. A cloud of steam rose immediately. Radiator problems, I guessed. If so, the driver would merely have to wait until the engine cooled sufficiently – and then refill the radiator with water from the jerry can that hung from the back of the vehicle. (One never refills a boiled-dry radiator straight away in case the red-hot engine-head cracks from the sudden change in temperature. Thermal shock, it’s called. That sort of damage cannot be fixed while the vehicle is still on the road. It’s a tow-away – and expensive – job when it happens. Does this sound like the voice of experience? Pass.) So, it was simple – just wait half an hour or so and the vehicle could limp back to base for repairs or catch up with the search convoy (assuming, as I did, that it was not going much further anyway.)
Ha Davydh gwandrys oll a-dro dhe ven an tour, yth esen a’m gorwedh war an vynk – plattyes war ow kloes-diwvronn rag avoydya ow bos gwelys. Yth esen ow mires orth an fordh heb hedhi. Drefenn resons apert, my a wodhya na allsa Kapten Mengele agan gasa mos mar es – ha, dres henna, ny yllyn bos sertan yn tien, hag ev dehwelys dhe’n selva, nag o an Serjont konstrynyes dhe dhisklosya an pyth a wodhya a-dro dhe’n le may fien lywyes. Wosa all, peryllus dres eghenn re via y wriansow pan wrussa agan livra. Ny yllys y waytya ri dhyn ynwedh y veri bywnans. (“Gweres an eskar dres termyn a vresel” o hwath trespas kapytal y’n dydhyow na. Mernans dre vaghas sether rag trespas a’n par na.) Yn neb kas, y remaynya ogas dhe’n our kyns gorthugher pan verkyis rew kertys hag ynno pymthek karr oll anedha ow tos yn-mes an selva a-hys an fordh dhe Vre an Krann. Yn apert, res via oll an jydh rag kuntell warbarth bagas- hwithrans a’n par na ha braster an bagas ma a gonfirmyas dhymm Kapten Mengele dhe vynnes yn feur agan dasgemmeres. Po, martesen, ev a vynna yn sempel agan distruyans. Yndellna, y tallathsa an hwithrans. Kudynnyow vytholl. Y hyllyn kildenna dh’agan dorgell (agan ‘Downder Helm’?) byth pan dhewissen y wul – nyns esa fysk vyth. My a besya observya an rew kertys dres termyn hir lowr. Hag ev neshes, hag ytho y hyllyn gweles yn kler pub karr, an rew dien a dhallathas lenthe war le an fordh nag esa pell a-ves. An kynsa jip re dorrsa hag ytho an lywyer anodho a wevyas dhe oll an re erell dhe besya mos y’n fordh. Yn hwir, an kerri erell a’n tremenas hag ev drehevys kogh an karr. Kommolenn a ethenn a sevis a-dhistowgh. Kudynnyow gans an dhewynnell, dell grysis. Mars o henna yndella, nyns o res dhe’n lywyer marnas y waytyans bys pan vyg’sa lowr an jynn – hag ena daslenwel an dhewynnell gans dowr dhiworth kanna meur esa ow kregi a-dhelergh an jip. Ny yllir lenwel dewynnell sygh a-dhesempis rag own dhe derri an penn-jynn der chanj tynn dh’y dempredh. Jag thermal yw henwys. Ny yllir ewnhe damaj a’n par ma ha’n karr hwath war fordh. Res yw y gemmeres dhe-ves – oberenn ker yw pan hwyrvydh. Yw henna lev-berthyans? Ny lavarav travyth.) Ytho, sempel o – res o gortos ogas dhe hanter-our ha, wosa henna, an karr a allsa dehweles dhe’n selva yn unn gloppya po mos rag drehehdhes an rew kertys. (Yth esen ow tesevos na alsa nameur pella a-hys an fordh, yn neb kas.)

The driver of the second jeep had apparently understood what the Sergeant had meant by ‘see you later’ (what a clever guy, cleverer than me, at least). He parked his vehicle outside the disused exit of the building. (The jeep I had come in remained at the front of the building, still under the surveillance of two guards. They remained quite unaware of the escape.) The second driver got out of his jeep upon seeing us emerge from the rear of the building and saluted the Sergeant. The Sergeant climbed behind the wheel of the vehicle and David and I followed. I made David ride in the back this time – that tray was hard and cramped. I’d felt every bump on our short ride to the prison and I did not want to be in the tray for any extended journey. But David was okay – after all, he was just a zombie! (Yes, even brotherly love has its limits.) Ingrid stood beside the second driver, to one side of the vehicle. I fancy that she waved as we sped off with the Sergeant – but I never saw her again. I did wonder what became of her later – in view of her obvious involvement in my and David’s escape. Would she have faced a court martial for assisting the enemy on time of war? No, I don’t think so. I have a feeling that the Army hierarchy would have let the whole thing drop or simply have covered it up – once they realised the monstrous things that they had allowed the Captain to perpetrate on an innocent civilian. (Me.) It’s just not easy to laugh off a meticulously planned murder – which had only failed though the timely intervention of Ingrid. And there were plenty of clinical records to back up Ingrid’s story – as well as multiple witnesses at the Infirmary to verify what had occurred to me. And, as for the Captain himself, well ... So, I think, in the long run, Ingrid would have been okay. “Where to, soldier?” asked the Sergeant. (I still liked being called ‘soldier’. It made me feel respected.) “Do you know the Scrub Hill area of this base?” I asked. “I sure do,” he replied. “I had my guys training there only last week.”
Yn apert, lywyer an nessa jip re gonvedhsa pyth re styrsa an Serjont pan lavarsa ‘y’th welvydhav diwettha’ (ass o den konnyk, konnykka agesov vy, dhe’n lyha). Ev re barksa y garr ryb daras an drehevyans re via kyns gorrys mes a us. (An jip may tothya ynno re drigsa a-dherag an drehevyans, hwath arhwithrys gans an dhew withyas. Y trigsens dyswar yn tien a’n diank.) An nessa lywyer a dhiyskynnas dhiworth y jip pan a wrug agan gweles dos dhiworth daras a-dhelergh dhe’n drehevyans ha salusya an Serjont. An Serjont a gemmeras y le a-dryv ros an karr. Davydh ha my a’n sywyas. Byttegyns, res o dhe Dhavydh bos esedhys y’n delergh an prys ma - re gales ha byghan o ragov vy. My re glywsa pub boemm dres agan vyaj berr dhe’n prison hag ytho ny vynnen bos a’m esedh ena dres neb hirra vyaj. Hag, yn neb kas, da lowr o Davydh – wosa oll, nyns o ev saw zombi! (Ya, yma finwethow dhe gerensa broderel hogen.) Yth esa Ingrid a’y sav ryb an nessa lywyer, an dhew dhe unn du an jip. Martesen, hi a wevyas ha ni gyllys yn uskis gans an Serjont Amerikanek – mes ny’s welis nevra arta. Byttegyns, my a wrug ombrederi yn hy hever. Pyth re hwarsa dhedhi drefenn hy hesoberyans y’gan diank, diank a Dhavydh ha my. Esa lys breselek rygdhi drefenn hy gweres dhe eskerens yn termyn-bresel? Nag esa, dhe’m breus vy. Y krysav an kommond ughel dhe asa koedha an negys dien – po, martesen, ev a’n gorhersa – pan dhyskas a-dro dhe’n taklow euthyk gwrys gans an Kapten, yn-dann y gommond y honan, dhe yonker dynasek ha heb drog apert. (Henn yw leverel, dhymmo vy.) Moldrans, meur y dowlans, ny via es dh’y sevel orth konsydra. Ha, gans henna, ny fyllsa an towl ma rag moldrans saw dre vellyans Ingrid yn prys da. Hag yth esa kovadh medhegel rag afydhya hwedhel Ingrid yn y gever – ha, dres henna, yth esa keffrys lies dustunier y’n vedhegva rag veryfia pyth re hwarsa dhymmo vy. Hag a-dro dhe vershyon an Kapten y honan, wel ... Ytho, wortiwedh, da lowr a via Ingrid, dell grysav. “Dhe bleth eson ow mos, souder?” a wovynnas an Serjont. (Da o genev hwath bos gelwys ‘souder’. Yth esa reowta y’n ger ma.) “A aswonnydh tiryow a-dro dhe Vre an Krann, ogas dhe’n selva?” a wovynnis. “Yn sertan,” a worthybis. “My ha’m polatys, nyns esen ow trenya ena saw y’n seythun yw passyes.”

It was, like all the vehicles, already pointed towards the entrance gate. I presumed this was so that the soldiers, like firemen, could spring into action at a moment’s notice. In any event, this meant that no backing and turning was required. We just needed to push forwards and gain speed. As we neared the gate, David jumped into the passenger seat at my command – and I slid into the driver’s seat, leaving the door ajar. We were travelling at around 15 kph and I could see the guard, still slumped in his chair as we cruised past. The ignition was on. I was ready to slip the clutch to start the motor whenever necessary. We bumped over the apron of the driveway, turned right and were fifty metres down College Crescent before I needed to do so. As the engine coughed into life, I glanced in the rear-view mirror – the guard had not moved. He was still slumped at his post. We had needed this stroke of luck because, according to my figuring, we were now behind schedule – and we still had a train to catch.
Yth esa tal an karr-les, kepar hag oll an re erell, wor’tu ha’n yet-entrans. My a dhesevas bos y’n fordh na may kalla an soudoryon, kepar ha tangasoryon, lamma a-dhistowgh yn gweythres ter heb lett. Yn neb kas, nyns esa edhomm dhyn a dreylya an karr-les (po mos war-dhelergh ynno). Res o dhyn hepken y herdhya yn-rag rag kavoes toeth lowr. Ha ni omneshes dhe’n yet, Davydh a lammas y’n eseth-dremenyas (herwydh ow hommandyans) ha my a slynkyas y’n eseth-lywyer, ow kasa an daras igor. Yth esen ni ow mos a-dro dhe 15km an our hag y hyllyn gweles an gwithyas, hwath gyllys yn gronn yn y gador, ha ni orth y dremena yn tidros. Skwych-enowans o yn fyw. Prest ov dhe slynkya an gravell rag dalleth an jynn byth pan o res. Ni eth a-dreus apron an fordh gans boemm byghan ha treylya a- dhyghow. Ni re alsa 50m a-hys Kromman Kollji kyns bos edhomm dhymm a slynkya an gravell. Ha’n jynn pesys yn fyw, my a viras y’n gweder-mires – ny waysa an gwithyas. Hwath o ev yn gronn war y soedh. Yth esa edhomm dhyn a’n chons na drefenn, herwydh ow halkonieth, agan bos a-dhiwedhes. Henn yw leverel, nyns en herwydh an termyn re via towlennys genev – ha res o dhyn kachya unn dren kyns oll.

THE RELIEF OF THE BAILLIEU It was just as Paul had described: a large refrigerated truck, ‘parked’ at a set of traffic lights in Lygon Street, the door of the cab wide open and no driver in sight – and the diesel engine was still idling. (Frugal beasts, those diesel engines.) The vehicle was otherwise untouched – what good was it to zombies? So, David and I approached, and opened the rear doors without difficulty. The driver had obviously only just started his delivery run – the refrigerated compartment was absolutely full of frozen foodstuffs of all kinds. Meat and poultry – frozen and processed. Fruit and vegetables. Pallet loads of it. Literally, tonnes of it. More than enough to feed the fugitives in the Baillieu for weeks. “Hey, Dave! Paul is a complete genius! We could have spent weeks looking for something like this.” David said nothing – not even a grunt came from him. This stuff was now unimportant to him and, I guessed, he wanted to be elsewhere (the basement of Union House) more than ever. “Too bad, Dave,” I said. “I’m not going back there.” (Not unless I absolutely had to.) I was minded to jump into the cab and drive straight to the Baillieu but I had another idea. I would drive it back to the crypt in the cemetery or, at least, as near as I could get this lumbering great vehicle to it. “Jump in, Dave,” I said. “We’re going for a little ride.” David reluctantly complied – he had no other pressing engagements. Of course, you might object that this all sounds highly improbable – and, indeed it was, the finding of the truck, at least. But there was no improbability about my being able to drive that truck. True it is that I did not possess an articulated vehicle licence and had never tried to get one. True also is that, if called upon to drive this vehicle further than the mile or so that I now needed to drive, I would probably have crashed the truck or damaged it irreparably.
DIFRESYANS AN BAILLIEU. Yth o kepar dell dheskrifsa Powl: kert-yeynell meur, ‘parkyes’ a-dherag dhe wolowys daromres yn Stret Lygon, daras an kab ledan apert ha mes a-wel y lywyer. Yth esa an jynn disel hwath owth oberi yn lent. (Bestes tanow, an jynnow disel ma.) Ken andochyes o an kert – py par devnydh o ev dhe zombis? Ytho, yth omneshas Davydh ha my dhodho hag igeri an darasow a-dhelergh heb kaletter. Yn apert, ny dhallathsa an lywyer saw a-dhiwedhes doen proviansow dh’y werthjiow – lenwys yn tien o an kertgell yeynellys gans boes rewys a bub sort. Kig bewin ha kig yar – gwrys ha rewys. Froeth ha losow-kegin. Gweliasow-karg anedha. Tonnas anedha, yn hwir. Yth esa moy a voes es dell o res rag maga an fowesigyon y’n Lyverva Baillieu dres seythunyow a dho. “Hay, ‘Dhavydh! Ass yw Powl awenek pur! Possybyl a via tremena seythunyow rag kavoes neppyth kepar ha hemma.” Ny leveris Davydh travyth - ny dheuth dhiworto rogh hogen. Nyns o poesek an materow ma dhodho lemmyn ha, dell wodhyen, ev a vynna yn feur bos yn ken le (yn sellder Chi an Kesunyans). “Ny’m deur, ‘Dhav,” yn-medhav. “Ny vynnav dehweles alena.” (Marnas esa edhomm ter dhymm a wul yndella.) Namnag erviris vy lamma y’n kab ha lywya an kert a-dhistowgh dhe’n Baillieu mes y teuth dhymm tybyans arall. Y’n kynsa le, my a allsa y lywya dhe’n gleudhgell po, y’n lyha, maga nes dell yllyn dri an kert meur ma dhodho. “Lamm a-bervedh, ‘Dhav,” yn-medhav. “Yth eson ni ow kemmeres vyaj byghan.” Akordyes o Davydh – nebes a’y anvodh – mes nyns esa dhodho deverow erell esa ow herdhya warnodho. Heb mar, y hyllys skonya a grysi an hwarvos ma drefenn na heveli bos gwirhaval – hag, yn hwir, nyns o gwirhaval mann dhe gavoes kert kepar dell gavsen. Byttegyns, gwirhaval yn tien o’m galloes lywya an kert na. Yn sertan, nyns esa dhymm kummyas-lywya rag an kertow – ha ny assaysen nevra kavoes onan anedha. Gwir o keffrys, mar fia edhomm dhymm lywya an kert ma moy es a-dro dhe’n mildir o res dhymm dhe lywya, an kert a via deghesys erbynn oll an taklow a-hes an fordh - po my a wrussa kisyans dhodho dres y ewnheans.

The Sergeant vaulted into the driver’s side of the jeep and took the wheel. He took off with a chirp of tyres on concrete. The dishevelled Ingrid sat beside him and another jeep followed us. Ingrid leaned over the back of the seat and yelled at me: “We’re gonna need you for this next bit. We’re gonna try to retrieve David from the cells.” Yes! My adrenalin kicked right in. The Sergeant leaned over his own seat and also yelled at me, as if to emphasise what Ingrid had just said: “And no more of this chicken-shit falling-over garbage neither!” “Yessir! Er, no sir!” I replied in my best available military fashion. My legs would definitely work next time I needed them. The military prison was only a short jeep-drive away from the infirmary. It was a modest but sturdy wooden structure, circa 1940. It never housed more than a few prisoners, mostly guys who’d gotten drunk in town and needed to cool off – or soldiers who had ‘lost track of the time’ and gone AWOL (absent without leave). The prison had never previously held a zombie – or a zombie’s brother, for that matter. It was neither fortified nor particularly secure – and had never needed to be. The two jeeps arrived in a cloud of dust and screeched to a halt. The driver of the second jeep stayed put. The Sergeant, driver of the first jeep, leapt from his seat and ran to the guards standing at the door of the prison building. “Stand down, men,” he barked, as they started to salute him. “This is urgent security business.” They both looked straight ahead and snapped to attention, rifles at the ready. The more senior of them (a corporal) said: “Sorry, sir. We’re not permitted to take orders from any of the U.S. NCO’s (non-commissioned officers).”
An serjont a lammas yn tu lywyer an jip ha kemmeres an ros yn y dhiwla. Ev a dhallathas yn fordh gans tynkyans a ruber war gentevynn. Yth esa Ingrid, hwath ankempenn ha dygribys heb mar, a’y esedh - ha jip arall a sywyas. Ingrid a boesas war-dhelergh ha garma orthymm: “Rag nessa rann an gwari ma, y fydh edhomm ahanas jy. Ni a vynn assaya dhasgavoes Davydh dhiworth an vaghow.” Ya! Yth esa ow pompya ow andrenalyn lemmyn. Yn y dro ev, an Serjont a boesas war-dhelergh ha garma keffrys orthymm – kepar ha pan esa ow mynnes poesleva lavarow Ingrid: “Ha byth moy a’n kawgh mabyar ma, koedhans war an leur namoy!” “Yasyrr! A, nasyrr!” a worthybis vy, y’m gwella fordh breselek. Yn sertan, yth obersa ow diwarr an nessa prys a via edhomm anedha dhymm. Nyns esa an prison breselek saw pellder kott a-dhiworth an vedhegva. Drehevyans sempel mes nerth lowr o, gwrys a-dro dhe vlydhynnyow 1940. Ny synsis nevra saw nebes prisners, an rann vrassa anedha re via polatys re alsa ha bos medhow y’n dre ha mayth esa edhomm dhedha a omgoselhe. Yn fordh arall, yth esa soudoryon may fia, yn apert, ‘koll an eur’ hag ytho i re alsa ha bos EHK (Estrigys Heb Kummyas). Ny synssa nevra kyns an prison zombi – po broder zombi, rag an mater na. Na kerys na diogel yn arbennik o – ha ny via kyns edhomm vyth bos yndella. Y teuth an dhew jip yn kommolenn a dhoust hag i a hedhis yn unn skrija. Y triga yn y jip an nessa lywyer. An Serjont-lywyer, y’n kynsa jip, a lammas dhiworth y esedh ha resek troha’n withysi a’ga sav orth daras drehevyans an prison. “Sevewgh a-denewen, ‘wesyon,” a harthas hag i salusys dhodho. “Negys sawder moyha ter.” An dhew gwithyas a lagattas a-dheragdha ha sevel a-dhesempis yn attendyans. An kottha gwas, korporal, yn-medh: “Drog yw genev, Syrr. Ny res kummyas dhyn rag degemmeres arghadow dhiworth SHK (Soedhogyon Heb Kommyssyon) an Statys Unys.”