昔のブログの抜粋

二年半ぶりにイギリスへ戻る予定以外で、私の日常生活では別に何も書くことがありません。　（予定は予定なので、実行して旅行中でいるまで詳細を書かない方がいいと思います。）　とにかく、今日は少し懐かしくなって、２００８年からのブログを読もうと思いました。あの頃、妻とまだ知り合っていなくて、日本のことや言葉と全然関わらない私は、大学の近くに住んで、大学の中で働いて、大学の友達を人生の軸にしていた。　とにかく、私は日本人のブログを読んで、かっこいい表現をたくさん覚えたので、この短い抜粋をここに書き込んだら、誰かが何か役に立つ英語の表現を覚える、という可能性があるかもしれない。わからないところがあったら、ぜひコメントで質問をしてください。和訳もとりあえずしてみましたが,後で書き込もうと思います。

The cat is seriously pissing me off

Every time I sit down to eat something, no matter what it is, Sara Ellis-Bextor (for that is her name) will plonk herself down at my feet and stare at me intently. That's on a good day, mind. When she is feeling especially bold she will bound up onto the dining table or my knees, whichever I happen to be eating off, and make determined attempts to grab bits of my food. If I try to brush her off, she digs her claws in. I could understand if she paid special attention to meaty or fishy things, not that I eat many of them. (The case of the corned-beef sandwich still brings me to tears.) But what turns her on about buttered toast? Why do I have to defend every single spoonful of bran flakes with a rolled up copy of the New Statesman? Jamie's theory is she is trying to ape me, imitation being the sincerest form of praise. I hold a different position. She resents me, and naturally assumes that I grow fat on a cornucopia of delicious things which I withold from her out of spite. That's a premise I can get to grips with, because I espouse it myself as regards other people; or rather, I did.

Specifically, I used to believe that people who held parties were privy to some secret knowledge which ensured people came to them if they were invited. Well, now I've found it out. You have to make curry, and you also have to provide a cat to play with, both of which I did yesterday. Playing for the big leagues, I brought Kirsty, Tree, Emma (who had been anxious to see the place for some time) Ed, and Moose. Verity made six. Alex was stuck in Camden, which is really the best place to put him these days, so he doesn't get out and make the place look untidy. The theme was "vegan food that normal people want to eat", and I, through the medium of potatoes and chickpeas, pulled out all the stops. Jamie did too; with an excellent search engine for his asisstant, he put together a sort of banana pancake thing which everyone adored, and which exploited no animals. Well, save for a few thousand bees, because of the honey on top (Moose had syrup).

Actually, poor Sara was thoroughly exploited as well. We subjected her to brightly coloured play pen balls whizzing about her, vibrating mice doused with valerian, lively balls of string, and most terrifyingly Tree got down all fours and ran around her in circles, meowing. She merely sat there looking unimpressed. At the party's conclusion, a conservative eleven pm, I gave Kirsty a sample of masala, promised to send her the recipe, hugged everybody, and sent them packing. Jamie and I then clasped each other, jumping for joy. A job well done.