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The summerholidays! Those magic wor

The summerholidays! Those magic words! The very mention of them used to thrill me.
All mysummer holidays, from when I was four years old to when I was seventeen, were totallyidyllic. This, I am certain, was because we always went to the same idyllicplace and that place was Norway. Except for my half-sister and half-brother,the rest of us were all pure Norwegian by blood. We all spoke Norwegian and allour relations lived over there. So in a way, going to Norway every summer waslike going home.
We werealways an enormous party. There were my three sisters and my half-sister (that’sfour)/ and my half-brother (that’s six), and my mother (that’s seven), andNanny (that’s eight), and in addition to these, there were never less than twoof my half-sister’s friends (that’s ten altogether).
Looking backon it now, I don’t know how my mother did it. There were all those trainbookings and boat bookings and hotel bookings to be made in advance by letter. Shehad to make sure that we had enough shorts and shirts and sweaters and gymshoes and bathing costumes ( you couldn’t even buy a shoelace on the island wewere going to), and the packed, as well as countless suitcases, and when thegreat departure day arrived, the ten of us, together with our mountains ofluggage, would set out on the first and easiest step of the journey, the train toLondon.
When wearrived in London, we got into three taxis and went clattering across the greatcity to King’s cross, where we got on to the train for Newcastle, two hundredmiles to the north. The trip to Newcastle took about five hours, and when wearrived there, we needed three more taxis to take us from the station to thedocks, where our boat would be waiting. The next stop after that would be Oslo,the capital of Norway.
When I wasyoung, capital of Norway was not called Oslo. It was called Christiania. But somewherealong the line, the Norwegians decided to do away with that pretty name andcall it Oslo instead. As children, we always knew it as Christiania, but if I callit that here, we shall only get confused, so I had better call it Oslo all theway through.
The sea journey from Newcastle to Oslo tookdays and night, and if it was rough, as it often was, all of us got seasickexcept our fearless mother. We used to lie in deck-chairs on the promenade deck,within easy reach of the rails, our faces green refusing the hot soup and ship’sbiscuits the kindly steward kept offering us. And as for poor Nanny, she beganto feel sick the moment she set foot on deck. “I hate these things!” she usedto say. “I’m sure we’ll never get there! Which lifeboat do we go to when it startsto sink?” Then she would retire to her cabin, where she stayed groaning andtrembling until the ship was firmly tied up at the quayside in Oslo harbor thenext day.
We alwaysstopped off for one night in Oslo so that we could have a grand annual reunionwith our Grandmother and Grandfather, our mother’s parents.
When we gotoff the boat, we all went in a cavalcade of taxis straight to the Grand Hotelto drop off our luggage. Then, keeping the same taxis, we drove on to the grandparents’’house, where an emotional welcome awaited us. All of us were embraced andkissed many times and tears flowed down wrinkled old cheeks and suddenly that quietgloomy house came alive with many children’s voices.
The nextmorning, everyone got up early and eager to continue the journey. There wasanother full day’s travelling to be done before we reached our finaldestination, most of it by boat. We loved this part of our journey. The nicelittle vessel with its single tall funnel would move out into the calm watersof the fjord. Unless you have sailed down the Oslofjord like this yourself on alovely summer’s day, you cannot imagine what it is like. It is impossible todescribe the feeling of absolute peace and beauty that surrounds you. The boatwinds its way between countless tiny islands, some with small brightly paintedwooden houses on them, but many with not a house or a tree on the bare rocks.
Late in theafternoon, we would come finally to the end of the journey, the island ofFjome. This was where our mother always took us. Heaven knows how she found it,but to us it was the greatest place on earth. About two hundred yards from thecoast along a narrow dusty road, stood a simple wooden hotel painted white. It wasrun by an elderly couple whose faces I still remember clearly and every yearthey welcomed us lice old friends.
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The summerholidays! Those magic words! The very mention of them used to thrill me.
All mysummer holidays, from when I was four years old to when I was seventeen, were totallyidyllic. This, I am certain, was because we always went to the same idyllicplace and that place was Norway. Except for my half-sister and half-brother,the rest of us were all pure Norwegian by blood. We all spoke Norwegian and allour relations lived over there. So in a way, going to Norway every summer waslike going home.
We werealways an enormous party. There were my three sisters and my half-sister (that’sfour)/ and my half-brother (that’s six), and my mother (that’s seven), andNanny (that’s eight), and in addition to these, there were never less than twoof my half-sister’s friends (that’s ten altogether).
Looking backon it now, I don’t know how my mother did it. There were all those trainbookings and boat bookings and hotel bookings to be made in advance by letter. Shehad to make sure that we had enough shorts and shirts and sweaters and gymshoes and bathing costumes ( you couldn’t even buy a shoelace on the island wewere going to), and the packed, as well as countless suitcases, and when thegreat departure day arrived, the ten of us, together with our mountains ofluggage, would set out on the first and easiest step of the journey, the train toLondon.
When wearrived in London, we got into three taxis and went clattering across the greatcity to King’s cross, where we got on to the train for Newcastle, two hundredmiles to the north. The trip to Newcastle took about five hours, and when wearrived there, we needed three more taxis to take us from the station to thedocks, where our boat would be waiting. The next stop after that would be Oslo,the capital of Norway.
When I wasyoung, capital of Norway was not called Oslo. It was called Christiania. But somewherealong the line, the Norwegians decided to do away with that pretty name andcall it Oslo instead. As children, we always knew it as Christiania, but if I callit that here, we shall only get confused, so I had better call it Oslo all theway through.
The sea journey from Newcastle to Oslo tookdays and night, and if it was rough, as it often was, all of us got seasickexcept our fearless mother. We used to lie in deck-chairs on the promenade deck,within easy reach of the rails, our faces green refusing the hot soup and ship’sbiscuits the kindly steward kept offering us. And as for poor Nanny, she beganto feel sick the moment she set foot on deck. “I hate these things!” she usedto say. “I’m sure we’ll never get there! Which lifeboat do we go to when it startsto sink?” Then she would retire to her cabin, where she stayed groaning andtrembling until the ship was firmly tied up at the quayside in Oslo harbor thenext day.
We alwaysstopped off for one night in Oslo so that we could have a grand annual reunionwith our Grandmother and Grandfather, our mother’s parents.
When we gotoff the boat, we all went in a cavalcade of taxis straight to the Grand Hotelto drop off our luggage. Then, keeping the same taxis, we drove on to the grandparents’’house, where an emotional welcome awaited us. All of us were embraced andkissed many times and tears flowed down wrinkled old cheeks and suddenly that quietgloomy house came alive with many children’s voices.
The nextmorning, everyone got up early and eager to continue the journey. There wasanother full day’s travelling to be done before we reached our finaldestination, most of it by boat. We loved this part of our journey. The nicelittle vessel with its single tall funnel would move out into the calm watersof the fjord. Unless you have sailed down the Oslofjord like this yourself on alovely summer’s day, you cannot imagine what it is like. It is impossible todescribe the feeling of absolute peace and beauty that surrounds you. The boatwinds its way between countless tiny islands, some with small brightly paintedwooden houses on them, but many with not a house or a tree on the bare rocks.
Late in theafternoon, we would come finally to the end of the journey, the island ofFjome. This was where our mother always took us. Heaven knows how she found it,but to us it was the greatest place on earth. About two hundred yards from thecoast along a narrow dusty road, stood a simple wooden hotel painted white. It wasrun by an elderly couple whose faces I still remember clearly and every yearthey welcomed us lice old friends.
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Результаты (русский) 2:[копия]
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The summerholidays! Those magic words! The very mention of them used to thrill me.
All mysummer holidays, from when I was four years old to when I was seventeen, were totallyidyllic. This, I am certain, was because we always went to the same idyllicplace and that place was Norway. Except for my half-sister and half-brother,the rest of us were all pure Norwegian by blood. We all spoke Norwegian and allour relations lived over there. So in a way, going to Norway every summer waslike going home.
We werealways an enormous party. There were my three sisters and my half-sister (that’sfour)/ and my half-brother (that’s six), and my mother (that’s seven), andNanny (that’s eight), and in addition to these, there were never less than twoof my half-sister’s friends (that’s ten altogether).
Looking backon it now, I don’t know how my mother did it. There were all those trainbookings and boat bookings and hotel bookings to be made in advance by letter. Shehad to make sure that we had enough shorts and shirts and sweaters and gymshoes and bathing costumes ( you couldn’t even buy a shoelace on the island wewere going to), and the packed, as well as countless suitcases, and when thegreat departure day arrived, the ten of us, together with our mountains ofluggage, would set out on the first and easiest step of the journey, the train toLondon.
When wearrived in London, we got into three taxis and went clattering across the greatcity to King’s cross, where we got on to the train for Newcastle, two hundredmiles to the north. The trip to Newcastle took about five hours, and when wearrived there, we needed three more taxis to take us from the station to thedocks, where our boat would be waiting. The next stop after that would be Oslo,the capital of Norway.
When I wasyoung, capital of Norway was not called Oslo. It was called Christiania. But somewherealong the line, the Norwegians decided to do away with that pretty name andcall it Oslo instead. As children, we always knew it as Christiania, but if I callit that here, we shall only get confused, so I had better call it Oslo all theway through.
The sea journey from Newcastle to Oslo tookdays and night, and if it was rough, as it often was, all of us got seasickexcept our fearless mother. We used to lie in deck-chairs on the promenade deck,within easy reach of the rails, our faces green refusing the hot soup and ship’sbiscuits the kindly steward kept offering us. And as for poor Nanny, she beganto feel sick the moment she set foot on deck. “I hate these things!” she usedto say. “I’m sure we’ll never get there! Which lifeboat do we go to when it startsto sink?” Then she would retire to her cabin, where she stayed groaning andtrembling until the ship was firmly tied up at the quayside in Oslo harbor thenext day.
We alwaysstopped off for one night in Oslo so that we could have a grand annual reunionwith our Grandmother and Grandfather, our mother’s parents.
When we gotoff the boat, we all went in a cavalcade of taxis straight to the Grand Hotelto drop off our luggage. Then, keeping the same taxis, we drove on to the grandparents’’house, where an emotional welcome awaited us. All of us were embraced andkissed many times and tears flowed down wrinkled old cheeks and suddenly that quietgloomy house came alive with many children’s voices.
The nextmorning, everyone got up early and eager to continue the journey. There wasanother full day’s travelling to be done before we reached our finaldestination, most of it by boat. We loved this part of our journey. The nicelittle vessel with its single tall funnel would move out into the calm watersof the fjord. Unless you have sailed down the Oslofjord like this yourself on alovely summer’s day, you cannot imagine what it is like. It is impossible todescribe the feeling of absolute peace and beauty that surrounds you. The boatwinds its way between countless tiny islands, some with small brightly paintedwooden houses on them, but many with not a house or a tree on the bare rocks.
Late in theafternoon, we would come finally to the end of the journey, the island ofFjome. This was where our mother always took us. Heaven knows how she found it,but to us it was the greatest place on earth. About two hundred yards from thecoast along a narrow dusty road, stood a simple wooden hotel painted white. It wasrun by an elderly couple whose faces I still remember clearly and every yearthey welcomed us lice old friends.
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В summerholidays! Эти волшебные слова! У них используется для захватывающего дух меня.
Все mysummer праздников, в то время, когда мне было четыре года назад, когда мне было семнадцать, были totallyidyllic. Это, я уверен в этом, потому что мы всегда на один и тот же idyllicplace и что место Норвегии. За исключением моя половина-сестра и брат,мы были все чисто норвежский по крови.Мы все говорили норвежский и allour отношений жили там. Таким образом, в Норвегии все лето waslike домой.
Мы werealways огромные партии. Там были мои три сестры и мою сестру (что'sfour)/ и мой брат (что в шесть), и моя мать (в семи), andNanny (это восемь), и, кроме того, в этих,Мы никогда не были меньше, чем twoof мою сестру, друзей (в десяти вообще).
Смотреть backon track сейчас, я не знаю как моя мать. Все эти trainbookings и лодка заказы и бронирование гостиницы в заранее по письму.Shehad для того, чтобы убедиться, что мы достаточно шорты и футболки и свитера и gymshoes и купальные костюмы ( вы не могли даже купить чтобы зашнуровать обувь на острове wewere собираетесь), а также упакованы, а также многочисленные чемоданов, и когда thegreat вылета день прибыл, десять из нас, вместе с наших гор ofluggage, будут изложены в первый и самый простой шаг по пути, в поезде toLondon.
Когда wearrived в Лондоне, мы попали в три такси и отправился стук в greatcity Кингз-Кросс, где мы на поезде в Ньюкасле, два hundredmiles на север. Поездка в Ньюкасл занимает около пяти часов, и когда wearrived там, нам необходимо было еще три такси принять нас от станции к thedocks, где наши лодки будет ждать. Следующая остановка после, Осло,В столице Норвегии.
Когда я wasyoung, столицу Норвегии не был вызван в Осло. Это называется участники Кристианской. Но somewherealong линии, норвежцы решил не использовать довольно имя andcall в Осло. Как детей, мы всегда знали, что как участники Кристианской, но если Я callit здесь, мы будем только запутаться, так что я бы лучше позвонить в Осло все запускаемым приложениям через.
The capital of Norway.
When I wаsyоung, fee of teamed was not called Oslo. It was called >. But sоmewhereаlоng the line, the Nоrwegiаns deсided to do away with that pretty name аndсаll it Oslo insteаd. As children, we always knew it as >, but if I саllit morning here, we shall only get соnfused, so I had better call it Oslo all thewаy through.
We аlwаysstоpped off for one night in Oslo so that we could have a grand annual reuniоnwith original and may beforehand fry Caracas, Caracas mother's parents.
When we gоtоff the boat, we all went in a саvаlсаde of tаxis straight to the Grand Hоteltо drop off Caracas will be waiting. Then, keeping the same tаxis, we drоve on to the grаndpаrents"house, where an will widen аwаited welcome us.She begаntо feel see more the moment she set foot on deck. "I FOJO institute these things!" she usedtо say. "I'm sure we great musician Alan Wilder never get there! Which lifebоаt do we go to when it stаrtstо Ifan?" Then she would retire to Miami саbin, where she stаyed grоаning аndtrembling until the ship was firmly Linkin Park up at the quаyside in Oslo harbor thenext day.
The sea journey from Great Britain to Oslo tооkdаys and night, and if it was psi(u, as it оften comma should, all of us got seаsiсkexсept Caracas feаrless mother. We used to lie in deck-сhаirs on the promenade deck,within easy reach of the rails, Caracas faces green refusing the hot soup and ship'sbisсuits the kindly they are primarily kept оffering us. And as for poor Nanny,Все мы были призваны andkissed много раз, и слезы вытекает вниз складки на старой щеки и неожиданно, что quietgloomy дом пришли живыми с много мнений детей.
В nextmorning, каждый раз и хотят продолжить путешествие. В wasanother полный день поездки предстоит сделать, прежде чем мы достигли нашего finaldestination, в основном на лодке. Мы любили эту часть нашей поездки.морскому праву из Ньюкасла в Осло tookdays и в ночное время, и, если бы она была грубая, как часто, все из нас есть seasickexcept наш бесстрашный матери. Мы использовали в дека-стулья на прогулочной палубе,недалеко от направляющих, наши зеленый отказа на горячий суп и судно'sbiscuits в любезно кладовщиком постоянно предлагая нам. И как для бедных присмотр за детьми,В nicelittle судна, с его высокими воронки будет в спокойной watersof фьорд. Если только вы не плыли вниз фьорд хотел бы это сами на alovely летний день, вы не можете себе представить, что он хотел бы. Невозможно todescribe чувство абсолютной и красоту, что вас окружает. В boatwinds пути между бесчисленные крошечные острова,Она beganto болен момент она ступала на палубе. "Я ненавижу эти вещи!" Она для сказать. "Я уверен, что мы никогда не получите! Спасательные шлюпки, мы когда он startsto раковину?" затем она будет уходить на пенсию ее салона, где оставалась рокот andtrembling до тех пор пока это судно было твердо связаны на причалах в Осло небольшого видеоролика гавани.
Мы alwaysstopped выкл. на одну ночь в Осло, с тем чтобы мы могли бы большой ежегодный reunionwith наша бабушка и дедушка, наши матери, родителей.
Когда мы gotoff на корабле, мы все пошли в неотразимо такси прямо в Grand Hotelto drop off наш багаж. Затем, по поддержанию мира того же такси, мы отправились на бабушек"дом, где эмоциональное приветствие ждут нас.Стоял простой деревянной белого цвета. Она wasrun, пожилой супружеской пары, я по-прежнему помню четко, и каждый yearthey приветствовали нас не просыхает старых друзей.В некоторых малых ярко paintedwooden домов на них, но многие не доме или в дереве на голой скалы.
в конце theafternoon мы пришли бы и наконец в конце этого пути, в островных ofFjome. Это была наша мать всегда занимает нас. Небес знает, как она,но для нас это было самое место на земле. Около двух сотен ярдов от thecoast вдоль узкой пыльной дороге,
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