Count Smorltalk pulls his hair out It lies in wait in at the cheese counter – Cornish Yarg? Bath Blue? Double Gloucester?… Decisions, decisions! It ambushes you in the socks department – cotton Argyles? woollen cable-knits? thermal ribbed?…...
I’m a freelance translator with quite a bit of experience under my belt, and I also work as a court interpreter. I’ve always wondered about conference interpreting, but I’m wondering if it’s the right choice for me...
Last year, a “translation table” explaining Brit-speak was making the rounds on the internet, with some poignant and humorous (and mostly true) examples of how non-Brits may misinterpret the British. You know, things...
On September 30 I had the pleasure to participate in a very special event organized by AIIC. An occasion even more special to me as I was lucky to take part in it without securing myself an official place on the guest list. Due to my...
Count Smorltalk ponders up and down ”Hello Smorltalk, I hope your well.” This was the opening line of an email I received this week. It made me wonder what had happened to the rest of the sentence. I hope your well is what? Deep, perhaps...
Dear Candidate, So you want to be an interpreter. Great, we need more good interpreters. That’s why we got up at an ungodly hour on the weekend, that’s why we’re spending the day in a classroom that we knew would be either overheated or...
Another day, another cocktail party, and a flurry of delegates corner me and coo the usual things normal people say when faced with a member of our motley crew. ”Oooo… Interpreting! I could never do that! How do you know all the...
I’ve long been interested in the role of creativity and improvisation in the process of language interpreting. Let’s take a further look at the relationship by referring to a subject close to my heart – art and craft. Along the way I’ll set out...
Count Smorltalk gets omphaloskeptical Earlier this year I was sitting on a plane next to an Asian girl, who, rather to my surprise, started to take a series of posed photos of herself on her iPad. She would grin or gurn and snap herself on the...
As a child, I remember hearing stories about Poles who had emigrated to the US and within a few years were ”forgetting” the language. ”Nobody could forget their mother tongue” – people in Poland would comment, insisting...