exiting oor Kornies
exiting
en
Present participle of exit.
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Exiting...
Piw yw dha dhyskador?langbot langbot
exit
Lowen yw Ken.langbot langbot
(hkv.) 1 a vodya; moz dhe- ves leave ~ a vodya a; moz dhe-ves a leave; b diberth; dilegha depart; c kwitya; moz yn-mes go out, exit; d moz yn-kerdh go forth, set out; e come out, come forth; 2 a surjya arise, be born renega; denagha decline
Res yw dhymm gweles hemma.langbot langbot
emergency exit
a vydh hi ergh haneth?langbot langbot
emergency exit [ s ]
Trigys ov vy yn Hyogo.langbot langbot
exit
Pyth yw hemma?langbot langbot
exit
Os ta demedhys?langbot langbot
Having attended to our ablutions, I felt the need to rest again and to block out the intermittent roar of the ongoing slaughter outside. I was just too stuffed from what had been happening over the last week and more – and, anyway, we had nowhere else to go just at the minute. More than that, if I were to continue on, I couldn’t afford to think about the horror of recent and ongoing events – it was simply too overwhelming and sleep was the place to retreat from all that. David lapsed into a torpor with which I was now becoming familiar. Was it sleep? Was it another form of death? I awoke again in the afternoon, I think. The shooting was now very sporadic and the cries of the zombies were no longer audible. Still, we’d need to be here for at least a few days before it was safe to venture out – or so I guessed – and I would need to keep myself occupied. What to do next? Then I hit upon it: there was a pack of playing cards that Charles and Paul had left behind in their rush to exit. Today, I would try to teach David how to play poker. It was a game he’d once been good at – and had enjoyed. So, why not? Why not indeed? But first, I would catch up on world events. Yes, miraculously, I had managed to hold onto the transistor radio whilst effecting our escape from the battle. True, it was now a little battered – and smelled a lot of gasoline soot – but it still worked. (I hoped that the batteries had been relatively new because I had no replacements at hand.) “This is the BBC World Service,” the announcer intoned. (I was warming to that voice.) News that I wasn’t interested in came first but the ‘Battle of Melbourne Port” was the third item of the broadcast. The item confirmed a couple of things. The first was that the herding of the zombies into the uni campus – and their subsequent destruction there – had been entirely planned and was claimed to have been largely successful in its aim. (There was no mention of the soldiers who had been taken by the zombies during the battle.)
Res yw dhymm skrifa lyther.langbot langbot
Once again, I battled with the gears of the vehicle: Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Paul helpfully assisted the process by asking: “Are you sure you can drive this thing?” (and other questions in that vein.) Thanks, Paul. In any event, I eventually found a gear that was low enough to allow the truck to move off with a lurch. “Now, that’s a fine gear,” I observed as we cruised along at 4 or 5 mph. “I think we should stick with that one, don’t you?” Paul and David huffed in contempt – as one – but made no verbal reply. That was a little bit disturbing. After all, Paul hadn’t fully recovered from his bite as yet. Oh well, Paul would soon be at the Baillieu – and no longer my problem. We exited College Crescent and entered Royal Parade, heading South. I needed to find the entrance on the West side of campus which would take me neatly to the front of the Baillieu. (This route is no longer possible – too many new buildings on campus.) I did, of course, have plenty of time to keep a look-out but was conscious of the fact that we were travelling, in effect, in the service lane of Royal Parade. The width of the service lane was quite tight and I was hemmed in on both sides by rows of mature elm trees. (Very pretty, of course, but a real problem when trying to manoeuvre a large truck.) I spotted the entrance – eventually – and applied the brake very gingerly. I didn’t want to stall the bugger after all this – and I couldn’t actually remember how to re-start one if the engine stopped. I didn’t share this fact with my passengers, deciding that they wouldn’t be much interested in my ignorance on this point. Left turn. Side swipe the trunk of a very large tree. (Crunch!) Drive over the top of the gate-keeper’s booth. (Loud metallic, crumpling sound.) Smash through boom gate. (Snap!) “Fuck!” screamed my gay friends in unison. “Hmm,” I said. “Yes, that did go well, didn’t it?” “Are we there yet, Dad?” said Paul in a weak and quavering voice.
Yma ev ow mires orthowgh.langbot langbot
exit
Res yw dhis gweles medhek.langbot langbot
emergency exit
My a vynn kavos dha woos.langbot langbot
exit [ s ]
Eus arghans dhedha?langbot langbot
Exiting the park to the right head for Beech Lane to bring you out onto East Hill.
Ple’mons i?langbot langbot
vodya; moz dhe-ves leave ~ a vodya a; moz dhe-ves a leave; diberth; dilegha depart; kwitya; moz yn-mes go out, exit; moz yn-kerdh go forth, set out; come out, come forth; surjya arise, be born
Yma paper-nowodhow dhe’n maw.langbot langbot
motorway exit
My a grys Tom dhe’m kara.langbot langbot
exit [verb-hanow]
Res yw dhymm gwelesTom.langbot langbot
In any event, the slight knowledge of the layout of St. Hilda’s that I had thus gained was now to prove invaluable. I knew how to get into that building and how to get myself to a room that would give me a reasonable view of the Northern exit of the campus. I dragged the uncomprehending David along with me and left the bewildered zombies to their collective fate. We soon gained the lookout that I had wanted – with no other living or non-living persons in the building to bother us. Sanctuary from the madness outside. The student room that we chose was somewhat spartan – painted concrete block walls, a bed, a desk and chair and a small bookshelf. Its tenant had been a young woman, it seemed – probably a fresher. Why do I say that? On the wall was a poster of ‘The Partridge Family’, featuring prominently a fresh-faced David Cassidy. No-one other than a first-year girl would confess to still having a crush on that particular teenage heart-throb. That would have been so uncool. And the room was scented. I can’t say exactly what the scent was (rose oil?) but it was pleasant – and strong enough to counter the pungent smell of napalm that still hung in the air. On the bookshelf sat a few of the standard (girl) record albums of the time (Carol King, Carly Simon, Nina Simone, Helen Reddy) and, beside them, some surprisingly old teenage literature (Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, The Getting of Wisdom). On the desk sat an IBM ‘golfball’ typewriter – fairly modern (and expensive) for the time. In the typewriter sat an incomplete letter which commenced “Dear Mum and Dad” and continued in a newsy fashion for a couple of paragraphs before stopping mid-sentence. I would like to have met the young woman who had once occupied this room, a young woman who cared enough to write to her Mum and Dad. I think I would have liked her. I wondered idly if she had managed to escape on the first day – and hoped that she had.
My a skrifas an lyver ma.langbot langbot
emergency exit
Da yw genev studhya Sowsnek.langbot langbot
exit private browsing
Res o dhyn gul neppyth.langbot langbot
emergency exit
Nyns yw res dhis sevel.langbot langbot
exit
Yw res dhis eva gwin?langbot langbot
1 a vodya; mos dhe ves leave ~ a vodya a; mos dhe ves a leave; b diberth; dilegha depart; c kwitya; mos yn mes go out, exit; d mos yn kerdh go forth, set out; e come out, come forth; 2 a surjya arise, be born renega; denagha decline
Hi a gews teyr yeth.langbot langbot
(And would our way also be blocked by tanks and nervous troops with machine guns?) We’d give it a try – North Court and its surrounds were rapidly becoming a killing field for all the creatures that lingered there. We should not linger. We moved with the Northbound flow, across Tin Alley and between the Beaurepaire pool and the squash courts. We moved past the running track and the tennis courts. It was slow, halting progress. The undead then spilled across the cricket ground (oblivious to the damage this would cause to the finely manicured pitches.) For some reason, I led David to the side of the oval and stayed off the playing area. Was this merely respect or was something else clicking inside my head? A helicopter gunship edged away from North Court and followed the throng to the cricket oval, pouring hot metal death down on the pitch invaders. At the same time, the felt-like grass of the pitch itself was fearfully cut up by this careless strafing. It would take the curator weeks of pain-staking repair work. It seemed that I was the only one present who cared about such important matters! (I would have to take it up with the ACB (Australian Cricket Board) much later on.) We reached the North side of the oval where the fleeing throng was forced into the bottleneck of the footpath that ran between the cricket pavilion (and mountaineering clubrooms) and residential college buildings. Chaotic though this was, the helicopter gunship did not fire upon those who had reached this point. Perhaps there was a fear of striking the residential colleges where living survivors might yet be sheltering. I can’t be sure but the relief that came from this unexpected protection was palpable. Slowly, the river of undead snaking North along the path crept towards the Northernmost exit of the campus. Was escape at hand? Nope. At that point, the unmistakable chatter of a heavy machine gun shattered the temporary calm. This time, the sound was not from above but from ahead, from the direction of the exit to which we were heading. More high-pitched zombie wailing.
My a vynn hwath gul henna genes.langbot langbot
emergency exit
Hi a wrug glaw.langbot langbot
exit
Ottomma agas ki.langbot langbot
77 sinne gevind in 12 ms. Hulle kom uit baie bronne en word nie nagegaan nie.