Famous German and Jewish American names and their meanings...

Calvin Klein, celebrated fashion designer. Klein means SMALL
Lucianne Goldberg, literary agent, famously embroiled in President Clinton's extramarital scandals in the 1990s. Goldberg means (surprise-surprise) GOLDEN MOUNTAIN
Dustin Hoffman, Academy Award winning actor. Hoffman means HOPE MAN
Jeff Katzenberg, film producer, studio-head, co-founder of Dreamworks SKG. Katzenberg means MOUNTAIN OF CATS
Helmut KOHL, German Chancellor 1982-1998. Kohl means CABBAGE
Judith Krantz, bestselling author of romantic sagas in the 1970s and 80s, married to film producer Steve Krantz. Krantz is an anglicized spelling of Kranz, which means GARLAND
Gerhard Schröder, German Chancellor 1998-2005. Schröder derives from a Middle-Low-German root meaning TAILOR
Stephen Spielberg, film director extraordinaire and founder of Dreamworks SKG studio. Spielberg means PLAY-MOUNTAIN
Cornelius Vanderbilt, American entrepreneur. Of Dutch origin, "Byltye" meant a little hatchet or bill, so the name translates: OF THE HATCHET
Elizabeth Wurzel, author of the original self-indulgent misery-memoir Prozac Nation. Wurtzel is an anglicized version (with added T) of the German word for ROOT

A big welcome to Sam, my 100th Follower!

Ach!

HOW TYPICAL of me to put my foot in it. (Again.) I thought I was simply quoting the German National Anthem. Little did I know that in modern times only stanza three is sung. You can read more about the Deutschlandlied here. I didn't realize my posts might have been offensive (because I posted it up in German too!!) so I altered their titles to Deutschland über England.

News? No news. Unconscious practically all day with sheer exhaustion.

And the weather is sweltering hot ~ still.

Found a brilliant book about the origins of German words and expressions in German. So I'm (slowly) reading that.

Now I've got to run. It's 01:37am! Night night all. Or good afternoon if you're in Australia.

Deutschland über England

YESTERDAY'S FOOTBALL RESULT, for those of you living on Mars was:

Germany 4: England 1

England is not happy.

This morning I was given the look of death for daring to read Stern Magazin in the post office queue!

Not much else to say, not because I'm so incredibly disappointed that England's football team made buffoons of themselves yet again, but because I've been trying to write a highly serious post in German, which is not easy.

Now I'd better go. It's nearly midnight.

Temperatures must surely have hit 32C today; it was sweltering. I slept next to a fan-heater all afternoon (obviously heat was turned off).

I hope you all had a cool day.

New German Blog

GLEDWOODS DEUTSCHEN BLOG finden Sie hier:

http://gledwood3.blogspot.com

Happy reading!

Escaped furry lightning bolt

HERE is yesterday's escaped roborovski story translated into English.
I am going to open a German blog very soon I promise y'all.

When I had roborovski pygmy hamsters, I lost them a couple of times... akh! Two entire days and not a sign ...
Then, after midnight I saw something tiny, like a furry pingpong ball with eyes, that shot across the bedroom like lightning and vanished behind my bed ~ the swine!
Roborovski hamsters are the smallest and fastest hamsters in the world. No wonder I couldn't catch her.
Finally I threw a bedsheet over her. She was extremely unhappy, and went back to bed in the lightbulb box with a thunderous face :-)

The main illustration isn't a roborovski at all, but a cream coloured Syrian hamster, which is about five times bigger... but I just found the picture entertaining...

Roborowski Hamster

FURRY FRIDAY ON SATURDAY
PELZIGER FREITAG AUF SAMSTAG

Roborovski pygmy hamsters are the tiniest of all hamsters.
Roborowski Zwerghamster sind die kleinste aller Hamsterarten.

Even as grown-ups, they're just 5cm/2in long!
Als Erwachsene, werden sie nur 5cm lang!


They are beautiful...
Sie sind sehr hübsch...


Roborovskis love living together. They are the most social of all hamster species and eat, sleep and play together.
Roborowskis leben sehr gern miteinander. Sie sind auch die geselligsten alle Hamsterarten, die gerne miteinander essen, spielen und schlafen.


Roborovski babies are so tiny...
Roborowskibabys sind so klitzeklein...


... and cute!
... und goldig!

VERLORENEN ROBOROWSKI GESCHICHTE
Wann ich Roborovski Pygmäehamstern hatte, habe ich die ein Paarmal verloren... ach!
Zwei Tage lang, keine Spur.
Dann, nach Mitternacht sah ich etwas klitzekleines, wie ein pelzartiger Pingpongball mit Augen, der blitzschnell der Bettzimmer herüber schoss ~ und, was für ein Schweinhund, hinter dem Bett verschwand.
Der Roborowski Zwerghamster ist der kleinster, schnellster Hamster aller Welt. Kein Wunder ich konnte ihn nicht anfassen.
Endlich warf ich eine Bettdecke darüber. Er war sehr unheilvoll, und ging zurück zum Glühlampekästchennest mit zornigem Gesicht :-)

Silver donkey OK

IF Y'ALL were wondering what I was blithering about earlier, it was mostly about my friend Belinda's poorly doggie Albert, who had an operation to remove a lump on his side last week and has been confined to his basket in sheer misery ever since.
Albert is nearly 15 years old, with fur the colour of a frosty morn. He looks like a little silver donkey with sad, sad eyes. He is so old he is almost deaf and never knows I'm there unles I put my hand down.
Yesterday he was so sick he was bundled up in a doggiecoat looking forlorn and cold ~ despite temperatures of 28C. Belinda said he's going to have to go under the knife again.
Today he looks much better. He won't be having an operation. Belinda says he looks so weary because he is stoned on all the painkillers and pills the vets gave him. Poor swine. I think he is going to be OK.

Flapper the wood pigeon is having a torrid affair! Yes! Off he flapped to the luxury high-gain aerial on the next road where he is to be seen cooing with a lady woodpigeon.
In the German version, by the way, I made a terrible mistake and said Flapper is perched up on a TV antenna with a deaf lady!
In mitigation may I point out that the German word for pigeon or dove is die Taube, while deaf is taub, so when I talk of a Taube-Frau, hoping this means a lady pigeon, I am evoking in the minds of anyone from Bremen to Berlin to Berne the image of a pigeon savagely kidnapping a disabled lady who is hanging off this pylon in sheer terror. Probably as Flapper viciously pecks at her fingertips.

The only other news is that temperatures have hit 28C and we are threatened with a weekend heatwave of 32 ~ that's 90F. The Greek lady at the druggieservice, who is from Athens. (When there is a severe heatwave in Europe it's nearly always worst in Athens. Temperatures can pass 50C/120F). She pointed out how much more oppressive is the sweltering British summer. It's nasty nasty nasty. I'm sweating like a swine.

Now here's a tune for y'all to try squawking out in the shower. I had a go and I sounded like a wicked witch having a haemorrhoidectomy without anaesthesia:

MOONFALL from The Mystery of Edwin Drood
Here's the Streisand version:

Die Nachrichten

HIER SIND DIE NACHRICHTEN VON GLEDWOOD
Ich weiß, ich sollte einen besonderen Deutschen Blog anfangen... ja ich weiß. Aber im Augenblick blogge ich noch hier.

Der Hund meiner Freundin Belinda, der Alfred heißt ist krank! Letzte Woche wurde er operiert. Er liegt im Korb und sieht sehr öde aus. Nie habe ich ein so armer Hund gesehen. Er ist so ältlich, er sieht wie ein kleiner silbergrauen Esel aus. Sein Augen sind so elend. Heute war Alfred noch im Korb. Er trug eine kleine Hundenjacke und bewegte sich nicht. Er sah kalt aus ~ während das Temperatur 30 Grad erreichte. Er ist so alt, er konnte mich nicht hören, und er wußte nicht, dass ich dort war. Ich denke es tut ihn zu viel weh, den Schwanz zu schütteln. Belinda sagt er muss wieder zum Tierartz ~ noch mehr Chirurgie. Ich hoffe, er wird OK.

Wie ich gesagen habe, ist es hier so heiß! Heute war es schwitzender feucht. Ich fühlte, als ob ich bekleidet in der Dusche gegangen war! Sehr unangenehm. Das BBC warnt vor einer Hitzewelle mit 32 Grad oder noch höher. Ich hoffe ich werde nicht zum Tod schwitzen. Dieses Transpirationsproblem ist nur nach Heroin gekommen. Bevor meiner Rauschgiftsucht liebte ich den Sommer. Nun wurde ich lieber das ganzes Jahr in Winter leben. Das Dunkel befördere ich zur Hitze.

Die Vogel in meiner Strasse zirpen noch laut. Wir haben viele Spatzen. Sie piepsen ganz unmelodisch den ganzen Tag lang. Flapper, die Ringeltaube hat verschwunden! Ich ahne, er hat eine Affäre mit einer Ringeltaube-Frau, die in der nächste Strasse auf einer neuen Luxus-Antenne gurrt. Vielleicht gibt es da Platz für zwei...

Ich muss jetzt gehen. Es ist schon Mitternacht, und das Temperatur ist noch 19 Grad! Ich schwitze noch wie ein Schwein. Ich hoffe, ich werde schlafen können ohne ertrinken!

Hot, exhausted day

IT WAS 28 DEGREES CENTIGRADE TODAY. For London this is hot. I'm sweating like a swine. It's ten minutes to ten at night and only just getting dark. High summertime!

I'M STILL EXHAUSTED. I slept nearly all night; then what do I do but spend half the day asleep from sheer exhaustion too!

I wish I had something interesting to post. Not really. Flapper the wood pigeon appears to have upped and left. I think he is having an affair.

My friend's dog, who is so elderly he looks like a little silver-grey donkey, has had an operation. Every time I see him he's in his basket with the most forlorn expession on his face. I have never seen a doggie look so sad. I think he is in pain. I hope he's OK.

I heard a radio feature today called Home Thoughts from Abroad, where the BBC take London-based correspondents from the foreign press and give them open mike to hold forth on any aspect of life in the UK that interests them. Today's broadcast, by die Zeit journalist John F Jungclaussen basically outlines the reasons why I want out of Britain. That we are becoming ever increasingly authoritarian and less and less free.

If you want to hear it you can listen online (from anywhere worldwide), click here.

Deutsche-in-London.net review of programme.

Keywords/Schlüsselwörter: exhausted verbraucht; sheer exhaustion absolut Erschöpfung; wood pigeon Ringeltaube; to appear erscheinen; to up and leave abhauen; elderly ältlich; donkey der Esel; basket der Korb; forlorn öde; expression der Ausdruck; hold forth sich über etwas auslassen; broadcast Sendung; authoritarian autoritär

Send in the Clowns

ONE OF THE MOST HAUNTING SONGS I KNOW... from the Broadway show The Producers.
Stephen Sondheim actually wrote it to be performed by an actor, who can't really sing. Which is why the entire song can be spoken as it is here.
If you don't want the talk, skip the first 2 minutes

[[1]] Judy Dench acts the piece; live performance...
Here you'll see the English flourishes streisand talks about in the screen below ~



[[2]] This from the making of Barbra Streisand's Broadway Album 1986



[[3]] Timeless: live in Las Vegas 2000
Man, considering her career had been going 38 years, her voice is in stunning nick:
Ignore the silly opening sketch. Here Streisand makes the song more musical than you could ever imagine



Stephen Sondheim hat dieses Lied für einen Schauspieler, der nicht wirklich singen könnte, geschrieben. Hier (1) spricht Dame Judy Dench die Melodie. Und dann ~ Nr. (3) ~ was für eine Stimme! Hier bezaubert Streisand alles...

Isn't Simi beautiful?

YOU COULDN'T MAKE THIS UP. I had to post this. Here's what Google Translate made of my post yesterday about Welshcakes Limoncello's little doggie Simi. After reading this I had to alter the word Ampel, which I was told meant flower pot, but actually means a kind of hanging basket ~ though, as the translator correctly identified, the normal meaning of that word is traffic light!

HERE is the dog of my friend Welshcakes Limoncello in Sicily, the Simi (short for Simon) is called. This stretches the fluffy teddy bear after a tiring Pelzschnitt. His coat is pure gold reingesponnenes, is not it? Maybe if Welshcakes planting the scrap into a traffic light, not a gold tree would grow from this?? Now barking Simi: woof woof-tootle-complain-i-coo-i-bone-knocking. She says: please come and tell you how beautiful I am! Here is the link.

(Simi speaks English, Italian and French and, of course, Doggie, but no German ...)

And this is the original English translated into German.

Dies ist mein Freund WELSHCAKES 'Dog SIMI wobei eine Pause nach einem anstrengenden Fell geschnitten. Ist sie nicht der süßeste kleine trotterdonkey du je gesehen hast? Ihr Fell ist aus reinem Gold gesponnen. Ich hoffe, Welshkcakes hält die Stecklinge. Vielleicht, wenn du sie pflanzen, werden sie in eine Gold-Baum wachsen ...
Nun ist Simi mich Bellen: Woof Woof-groany-bone--a-doodle. Sie sagt: Kommen Sie vorbei und lassen Sie mir eine Nachricht zu erzählen, wie schön ich bin, ist der Link hier.

If you compare both languges, you'll note they aren't direct translations. I wanted to see how Simi's barking onomatapoeia came across. I had to scan the German dictionary specifically for rhymes, which the translator dealt with rather well. In English-German, as you can see, it gave up all together and shoved the English woofs straight through!

AREN'T THESE SIMI PICTURES AMAZING? Did you ever see such golden fur? And who says doggies can't smile?! If you're wondering what breed she is, btw, Simi is a Porkshire cross...

Was für phantastische Simi-Bilder, nicht wahr? Habt ihr jemals solche goldene Fell gesehen? Wer sagt, dass Hündchen nicht lächeln können? Falls fragt Ihr euch, Simi ist Yorkshire Terrier-Mischling.

Isn't this the cutest doggie in the world..?

THIS IS MY FRIEND WELSHCAKES' DOG SIMI taking a rest after an exhausting fur-cut. Isn't she the cutest little trotterdonkey you've ever seen? Her coat is spun of pure gold. I hope Welshkcakes keeps the cuttings. Perhaps if you plant them, they'll grow into a gold-tree...
Now Simi is barking at me: woof-woof-groany-bone-a-doodle. She is saying: please drop by and leave me a message telling me how beautiful I am, the link is here.

HIER ist das Hündchen von meiner Freundin Welshcakes Limoncello in Sicily, das Simi (kurz für Simone) heißt. Hier, nach einem ermüdenden Pelzschnitt, spannt der flauschige Teddybär aus. Sein Fell ist unvermischt reingesponnenes Gold, nicht wahr? Vielleicht falls Welshcakes die Schnippel in einem Topf anpflanzt, würde ein Goldbaum daraus wachsen??! Nun kläfft Simi: woof-woof-murren-i-gurren-i-knochen-pochen-dudeln. Sie sagt: bitte mal komm' vorbei und erzähle wie schön ich bin! Hier ist das Link.

(Simi spricht Englisch, Italienisch und Französisch und natürlich Doggie, aber leider kein Deutsch...)

Woof-woof!

OK just a very quick post ~ and no little birdies either!
I've spent most of today asleep with the usual exhaustion.
I was asked whether I think it's just a question of lost sleep catch-up or whether I feel ill. Really, I feel ill. It doesn't feel right.
I get the patronizing response from druggieservice and healthcare professionals that this is some kind of inertia manifesting (ie "if you don't use it you lose it" and I'm tired bc I never do anything) ~ well how do they know?
As I said, I'm just as likely to sleep in a public place as at home. I only get to a public place by exerting myself. It makes no difference how much "effort" I put into life. Whatever I do, I end up paying the for it. My body goes "no. Too much!"
There's no great mystery to all this. I'll tell you what it is. It's depression with chronic fatigue syndrome/CFS traces on top. Plus of course opiates prescribed and otherwise only exaggerate things... So that's what it is and I'm not too worried about it. If I had a fatal illness, I would have died years ago.
Wherever you are, I hope your weekends were more restorative!

No German today. I'm too erschöpft. If you are reading this somewhere German-speaking these are the keywords/Schlüsselwörter: to patronize sb jdm gönnerhaft behandeln; druggieservice (mein eigene umg) die Drogensuchtklinik; inertia Trägheit; to exert oneself sich anstrengen; effort die Mühe; CFS=chronisches Erschöpfungssyndrom; traces die Spur; to exaggerate übertreiben; fatal lebensgefährlich; restorative stärkend

One more birdie:

Noch einander Vogelein:

Japanese budgie saying "hello" and pipping out the most peculiar sounds...
Japanischer Wellensittich macht ungewöhnlichen Lärm:

Birdie-bathing....

FEATHERY FRIDAY ON SATURDAY
FEDERARTIGER SAMSTAG




What an amazing sight; Nikki the cockatiel washing wings under kitchen tap!
Was für ein wunderschönes Blick! Nymphensittich wascht die Flügeln unter Küchezapfen!




Gonzo really goes for it under the tap. You'd think they'd really hate water dripping right between the feathers, but apparently not so:
Man liebt das Wasser so...



Mad French woman strips off and takes squeaky-squarking cockatiel into shower... (no tiny tits)
Verrückte Französin entkleidet und bringt lärmenden schreienden Vogel in die Duschi mit:



Extraordinarily tame budgie goes for outdoor Tupperware bath...
Außergewöhnlich zahmer Wellensitti ch nimmt Tupperware-Bad im Freien:



Blue tit has splish-splash-sploshy jamboree in the bath:
"Blaumeise spielt Propeller im Vogelbad" ~ sehr komisch!




I don't know what this is because it's Russian and it still won't load, but if anyone sees it and likes it, please tell me!
Über diesem hab' ich keine Ahnung...




Only in Japan 鳥風呂 ~ it takes a while to get going, but eventually you see an entire flock of (pet) canaries taking a dip...
Kanarienvogelflug baden....



And last but not least: bizarre Japanese bird-tin antics:
Bizarre Vogeldosegrimassen aus Japan:

Winziges Blaumeise-Baby in der Straße

English-speakers: this is a German adaptation of yesterday's story about the baby bird in the street, "I nearly grabbed a tiny tit".

Gestern habe ich einen kleinen blauen Vogel in der Straßenmitte gefunden. Das winzige Küken sah zu mir auf, und piepste, "was willst du mit mir?" Es war ein Blaumeisebaby, vielleicht ein Teenager, noch nicht flügge.
Ich sagte, "Du kannst nicht in der Mitte der Straße bleiben. Also gehe!"
Ich kniete nieder, dann flog es in die Gosse. Da blieb es, und piepste und piepste.
Ich sagte, "Da kannst du auch nicht bleiben! Fliehe zurück zum Nest!"
Ich winkte die Armen. Dann flog es zu einer niedrigen Mauer, wo man sitz um seinen Dealer zu erwarten. Dann klingelte mein Telefon. Mein "Freund" erzählte mir, "Ich fahre nun die Straße entlang." Also, zuerst musste ich damit abfertigen. Ich dachte, ob das Vogelein noch da ist, werde ich es zuhause mitbringen.
Also traf ich meinen Freund. Zwei Minuten später kehrte ich an die Wand zurück: aber von dem winzigen Küken ~ keine Spur. Ich suchte und suchte wie eine Stecknadel. Ich horchte und horchte auf seinen kleinen Piepser: nichts.
Vielleicht ist es doch nur zum Guten. Was hätte ich getan? Sollte ich es wirklich zuhause mitbringen? Dort habe ich einen Hamsterkäfig in dem es gelebt haben könnte. Aber wie würde ich ein winziges Küken füttern? Wäre es nicht zu zahm werden? Wie würde ich wissen, wann es freizulassen? Würde ich es jemals freilassen können?
Na ja. Es ist jetzt nach Mitternacht. Ich hoffe nur das die klitzekleine Blaumeise zurück im nest schlaft, und träumt vielleicht von eines Tages im großen blauen Himmel zu fliegen...

I nearly grabbed a tiny tit...

I WAS CROSSING a quiet road near one of our largest local parks when a tiny blue bird fluttered down from a tree and sat in the middle of the road. I crossed and stood over him. What looked like a baby blue tit stared up at me, chirping indignantly as if to say "and what do you think YOU are doing here??!"
Wondering what was wrong with the little bird, who still refused to move, I made a motion to grab it; he fluttered clumsily off a couple of feet away and sat in the gutter cheep-cheeping at the top of his tiny lungs.
I thought "you can't stay there in the gutter like that" and made yet another not attempt at grabbing the little birdie, who did a better job at flying this time and found himself on the footpath beside a little wall where drug addicts sit waiting for their dealers (this of course this had nothing to do my being in that vicinity...)
Then my phone rang and "a friend" said he was driving down the road right at that moment, so I had to deal with that. I thought to myself, if the tiny tit is still there in a couple of minutes, then I'll take him home with me. He cannot sit on the path like that. He'll get trodden on or killed.
Three minutes later he was gone. I looked everywhere for him. He could have strayed under the parked cars where a cat would have made a tasty meal of him... I searched high and low, but could not hear his cheep-cheeping from anywhere. I have no idea where he went, or whether he suddenly learned how to fly.
Judging by his cheeps, he was a great tit, not fully fledged, but very spirited. I didn't want to take him home, though I do have a hammy cage he could have gone in... When would I have known to set him free? Would he ever have been able to go free if he'd lived in my house and become hand-tame?
Perhaps it's a good thing he vanished...

If you go to my first post yesterday and look under the German, you'll see some wonderful video of baby blue and great tits being hand-fed worms, etc. There's a particularly funny one of a blue tit getting soaking wet in a birdbath...

So why did this happen today? Is it the laws of attraction in action?

Illustrations: top, great tits; bottom, blue tit. Mine looked like a blue tit (very blue), but the chirrups sounded to me like a great tit, so I'm not sure...

Not too tired to tell you...

I SLEPT FOR NEARLY FOUR HOURS, from late morning into early afternoon slumped in a chair at the back of the public library today. What the staff thought of me, I've no idea. But I wasn't drugged or drunk, so who cares what they thought. I was exhausted.
I slept most of yesterday through. And the day before.
I had an appointment at the druggieservice which I dragged myself down for. My worker, who is a mental health nurse, noticed the change in me at once. All I could think was: how am I to fill half a gaping hour of blank blank time?
The Personality Disorders Specialist has offered me an appointment for assessment. Being as I do not consider myself personality-disordered, especially on "axis C" as Nursey was suggesting (the anxious-avoidant-dependent axis ~ full of snivelling, simpering shy types, burdened by terror of social situations and irrational worries. This is not me.) I thought I would go 1 for a laugh and 2 because I am desperate and it's an untrodden avenue.
If I did have some such disorder, I actually have more in common with type A, the schizotypal personality, with their off-the-wall view of things coupled with a linguistic jamboree of trotterdonkey self-coined phrases, pinging like the tiny tits on the trees when they spot tubby roborovski hamsters scurrying near their nests (ahem...)
Yeah so anyway... I've got schizophrenia, not.
The other personality disorder I could be shoved towards would be the borderline type. Two of my friends had this condition. I say had because one threw himself under a tube train and is now dead... I don't really think I'm borderline at all.
The nurse did admit there's "definitely a mood thing going on". I didn't tell her my "not sleeping" had basically involved not bothering to go to bed for days on end, feeling pretty wonderful ~ I had an amazing perspective on life. I was refreshed as a granny smith apple is refreshing to a desert explorer's palate. I didn't want Nursey to assume I might have been "hypomanic", which it is my position that I am not. I am just prone to mood swings that occasionally sweep up high only to plummet me down. And I felt so so down yesterday. People kept asking what was wrong. Today I am avoiding human company and have had excessive hours of sleep so I feel sour on my own. But as you can see I'm chatty enough with my important friends... ha-har!
Now, you English speakers, let me probe you with a question: is all this German getting too annoying and should I post it in another blog?
I haven't the energy to post exhaustively in German every single day. On the other hand, I do need to practise my language otherwise it'll become as rusty as it was during the 20-year "hiatus" from study. You wouldn't believe the amount of courage it took to rustle up, having said I would like to do a BA degree in translation into and out of German, with French and Dutch on top ~ then to show how flabby my German had actually become it's humiliating. And if it does look impressive, trust me that is the lure of the exotic. If you only can sees how many I much not good grammar make, trust I would you know excellently how much very I not good can do it. See?
Now I've got to go. One last PS on the birds: I've yet to mention the SPARROWS who have returned in chirrupsome profusion to my neighbour's bush. There seem to be about twenty of them cheeping endlessly away to some more sparrows across the road (perhaps they are deadly sparrow rivals, having a rapper-style showdown about whose porch roof is theirs~?!) Sparrows had been largely absent from our towns for nearly twenty years. Sparrows and pigeons it always used to be. Pecking about in vast numbers in our parks and squares. The BBC shot an excellent documentary: The Sparrows of St James's (the park behind Downing Street and Parliament). Then they disappeared!
O and one last PS regarding my leaving the country. I know Britain has looked after me very patiently for too many years, but Britain is tinged with bad memories now I expended such a lot of time and effort trying to learn German and French and yet I've spent not spent even a month in a pays francophone and I've yet even to set foot on German-speaking soil! (German-speaking soil, die kleine Wurmchen sagen "Guten Tag!" und "Auf wiedersehen!"!) So you see, having been trapped here with an addiction for far too long, the very first thing I wish to do, if I ever CAN break free ~ is to flee!


If you want to see some good birdie-videos have a look at my tiny tits, the cutest of all British birds, posted earlier today in German (English translation below)... and these:

BTW, the quotation, by the Swiss writer Alfred Polgar, across those other tiny tits says: "I command the German language, but she doesn't always obey..."

VIDEO 1
HERE'S some chirpybirds, rather than songbirs: SPARROWS!



VIDEO 2
ON WITH THE SONGBIRDS THEME ~ HUMAN SONGBIRDS...
... this Jewish girl, I think, has one of the best voices ever recorded.
I mean, can you think of anybody at all whose vocal timbre sounds "like Barbra Streisand"..?
This performance of Evergreen from the 1976 remake of A Star is Born (Chris Kristofferson adding minimal harmonies) was shot in one take and it's one of the best vocal performances of any Hollywood film from any time:



Her sister, Roslyn Kind, has a deeper (some might say richer) version of the same voice. I posted her up on Sunday, but I don't think anyone heard her ...

Warum die Amerikaner an meinen Lieblingsvogel lachen

GESTERN war ich so erschöpft, ich schlief pracktisch den ganzen Tag lang, und wachte um 04:00 Uhr.
Chogga die Nachtigall könnte ich nicht hören, weil der morgendliche Gesang der Gartenvogel noch angefangen hatte. Dies nennen wir hier the dawn chorus ~ der Chorgesang der Dämmerung. Er ist eine der spektakulärsten Phänomene der Natur.
Abgesehen von der Singvogel, meine Lieblingsvogel sind die Meisen, besonders die Blaumeise und die Kohlmeise.
Sie sind die minute federartige Akrobaten des Gartens, die behaglich am Fütterhäuschen umgedreht speisen.
Als ich diesen Fakt auf meinem Blog anmelde, kann ich nie sicher sein, dass meine amerikanische Leser glauben, dass ich scherze nicht.
Die Blaumeise ist nur ein Nord- und Zentraleuropäischer Vogel; das Habitat der Kohlmeise weitet süd und ost nach Indien und genau Japan. Aber in Nordamerika sind diese Vogel unbekannt.
Also wenn ich ihnen mit ihren richtigen Namen nenne, the blue tit und the great tit ~ dann verstehen meine Amerikanische Freunden, dass ich etwas über Frauenbrüste spreche: die blaue Titte und die Großtitte.
Kein Wunder lachen sie so!


ACHTUNG!
GRAMMATISCHE KRISE! Bitte helft mir!
Welcher ist korrekt?/ Das erste? Die zweite? Oder etwas anders? Wie sage ich:

Sie sind die minute federartige Akrobaten des Gartens, die behaglich am Fütterhäuschen umgedreht speisen.
Sie sind die minute federartige Akrobaten des Gartens, die behaglich auf dem Kopf stehend am Fütterhäuschen speisen.

Als ich diesen Fakt auf meinem Blog anmelde, kann ich nie sicher sein, dass meine amerikanische Leser glauben nicht, dass ich scherze.
Als ich diesen Fakt auf meinem Blog anmelde, kann ich nie sicher sein, dass meine amerikanische Leser glauben, dass ich scherze nicht.
Als ich diesen Fakt auf meinem Blog anmelde, kannich nie sicher sine, dass meine amerikanische Leser
nicht, dass ich scherze glauben...

... oder was?!
Ich bin ganz verloren!

Blaumeise füttert ihre Babys
Bluetit feeds chicks:



Minute Kohlmeise sitzt auf dem Hand, isst und zirpt laut!
Tiny great tit sits on hand, eats and cheeps loudly:



Blaumeise, Kohlmeise, Sperling und Eichelhäher
Blue tits, great tits, sparrows and European (not blue) jay
Unlike the American blue jay, the European jay is rare and shy ~ it is considered a blessing to see one



Befreite Blaumeise isst Wurmchen in menschlichem Haus
Rescued blue tit eats little worms in humans' house:



Blaumeise spielt Propeller im Vogelbad
Blue tit goes for a splash in birdie-bath:



RATHER than do the translating myself, here for the English-speaking majority is some special entertainment performed by Google:

Why the Americans laugh at my favorite bird
YESTERDAY, I was so exhausted, I slept practical at all day long, and woke up at 04:00 clock.
Chogga I could hear the nightingale, not because the morning song of the bird garden had begun. We call this the dawn chorus singing the chorus ~ dusk. He is one of the most spectacular phenomena of nature.
Apart from the singing bird, my favorite bird, the titmouse, especially the blue tit and great tit.
They are the spring-minute acrobats of the garden, feed the comfortable Fütterhäuschen turned on.
As I sign this fact on my blog, I can never be sure that my American readers do not think I'm joking.
The blue tit is only one North and Central European bird, the habitat of the great tit is expanding south and east to India and Japan carefully. But in North America, this bird are unknown.
So if I call them by their real names, the blue tit and the great tit ~ then understand my American friends that I talk about women's breasts, the blue tit and the Großtitte.
No wonder they laugh like that!

Bilder: deutscher Text: Blaumeise; englischer Text oben: Kohlmeise; unten Blaumeise
Illustrations: German text: blue tit; English text top: great tit, bottom blue tit


LINKS:
10,000 Birds blog: blue tit post
Blue tit fact sheet
BBC: great tits: facts, pictures, video

Winter wren/Zaunkönig

THIS is one of the birds I hear singing right outside my window. It perches one tree along from Flapper and Chogstable's cherry tree, chirruping like crazy most of the day:

Dieser Vogel singt direk bei meinem Fenster. Er sitzt oben im Baum daneben dem Kirschenbaum von Flapper und Chogga. Meiste Zeit des Tages, zwitschert er wie verrückt!

VIDEO: with amazingly clear picture. I like the bit with the caterpillar best...
VIDEO: das Bild ist erstaunlich klar. Der Moment mit der Raupe gefällt mir am Besten...



Picture/Bild aus Gartenbilder

DAWN CHORUS: BRITISH GARDEN BIRDS IN JUNE
MORGENDLICHEN GESANG DER BRITISCHEN GARTENVOGEL: JUNI

Was Gledwood zunächst tat/What Gledwood did next

FOR ENGLISH, SEE UNDERNEATH:

Heute schlief ich fast den ganzen Tag lang. Ich wachte nach 16.00 Uhr.

Zuerst musste ich zur Apotheke, um mein Methadon abzuholen.

Dann ging ich in den Supermarkt, und kaufte eine Pizza. Sie war sehr frisch und nett.

Am Bahnhof, hörte ich das Zirpen noch einanderer Nachtigall!

Sie klang genau wie eine Spieldose.

Flapper saß noch auf der Fernsehantenne des Nachbars.

Ich denke, sie liebt das Digitalfernsehen über alles. Das hat ihr so vielen Luxus-Barsche gegeben!


I slept nearly all day today, waking up after four in the afternoon. First I had to go to the chemist's to pick up my methadone. Then I went in the supermarket and bought a pizza. It was really fresh and nice. At the railway station I heard yet another nightingale chirping! It sounded just like a music-box. Flapper was still on the neighbours' TV aerial. I think he loves digital television more than anything. It has given him so many luxury new perches!


Blogpost of the day: Caving, Philippines-style!