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.

Результаты (английский) 1:

The summerholidays! Those magic words! The very mention of them used to thrill me. All holidays mysummer, 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 the so-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 our fearless seasickexcept 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 do we go to lifeboat 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 old wrinkled 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 are 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 called funnel would move out into the calm watersof the fjord. Unless you have which 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 finally come 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. Wasrun it by an elderly couple whose faces I still remember clearly and every yearthey welcomed us lice old friends.

Результаты (английский) 2:

The summerholidays! Those magic words! Mention of very of The Them USED to the thrill me.
The All mysummer holidays, from the when WAS I of a four years old to the when I of 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. In a way for So, going to Norway every summer waslike going home.
For 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 the half up my twoof than-sister's friends (That's ten altogether).
Looking BackOn IT now! Just, do not I of the know how of IT DID up my mother. 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 could not 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 the set out on the first and Easiest step of the Journey, the train toLondon.
for When wearrived in the London, we's got Into a three taxis and Went clattering across the the greatcity to King's of 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 the after the stop of The That Would the BE Oslo, the Capital of Norway.
For When I of wasyoung, Capital of Norway Oslo WAS not Called. It was called Christiania. But somewherealong the line, the Norwegians decided to do away with that pretty name andcall it Oslo instead. Of As children, we the always Knew IT as with The Christiania, But the if I of callit That found here, we Shall only the get: confused, SO I of HAD better call IT Oslo all theway through.
Of The sea Journey from Newcastle to Oslo tookdays and night loe, and the 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! The Which the lifeboat do we! Go to the when IT startsto sink? "Then statement she Would retire to HER cabin, where clause she Stayed groaning andtrembling The until the ship WAS firmly tied up closeup AT the the quayside in Oslo harbor thenext day.
For We alwaysstopped off for one's night loe in Oslo SO Could we have That a grand Annual reunionwith Our Grandmother and Grandfather, Our mother's parents the.
for When we GOTOFF the boat, we all Went in a cavalcade of taxis straight to the 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. Were us of the All Embraced andkissed MANY times and tears down Flowed Wrinkled old cheeks and Suddenly That quietgloomy house CAME MANY alive with children's voices.
Of The nextmorning, everyone's got up closeup early and an 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 can not imagine what it is like. It is impossible todescribe the feeling of absolute peace and beauty that surrounds you. Of 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 a bare rocks.
The Late in theafternoon, we Would have come the 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.

Результаты (английский) 3:

the summerholidays! those magic words! the very mention of them used to thrill me.all mysummer holidays, from when i was four years old and when i was seventeen, were totallyidyllic. this, i am certain, is 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 with party. there were my three sisters and my half sister (and sfour) / and my half brother (that"s six), and my mother (that"s one), andNanny (that"s eight), and in addition to these, there were never less than twoof my half sister. 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 the evening round, and when thegreat departure day however, the ten of us, together with our mountains ofluggage,. 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, but 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 in 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 not only get the world, so i had better call it a place for all theway through.the sea journey from newcastle to oslo tookdays and night, and if it was rough, as it often is, 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 a press the hot soup and ship "sbiscuits the free steward kept offering us. and as for poor full-time live, she beganto feel sick or she set foot on the deck. "i hate these things. "she usedto say. "i "m sure we" ll never get there! that lifeboat do we go to when it startsto sink? "then she would retire else to her, where she was 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 large annual reunionwith our Grandmother and grandfather, our mother"s parents.when we gotoff the boat, we all went in a cavalcade of view straight to the grand Hotelto drop off our luggage. then, keeping the same view, we drove on to the grandparents" house, where an emotional and instructors. all of us were embraced andkissed many times and tears flowed down wrinkled old cheeks and suddenly that quietgloomy house came alive with the children "s new.the nextmorning, everyone got up early and not to continue the journey. the 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 large watersof the fjord. enjoy you have sailed. the Oslofjord like this yourself on alovely summer "s day, you cannot imagine what it is like. it is impossible to todescribe the feeling of absolute peace and beauty that surrounds you. the boatwinds its way between countless tiny islands, and small brightly paintedwooden houses on them, but many with not a house or a tree on the bare rocks.late in theafternoon, we would have had to come to the end of the journey, the island ofFjome. this is 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 time from thecoast along a narrow price road, stood a simple that is painted white. it wasrun by an elderly couple whose faces i still remember clearly and every yearthey welcomed us lice old friends.