Lost in Translation

My Girlfriend is about to move flat. I’m helping.

To mark the occasion, we got one last takeaway from our favourite Indian restaurant. Well… we’ve never actually been in, but they do this deal on a Sunday night that means you get lots of decent food for a tenner. Done.

Anyway, as is often the case with Indian takeaways, the menu had a few wobbles on the translation front. Once we’d settled on getting the bits we’d usually get, we realised we had room in the deal to get something a little different too.

Cue lots of Googling to try and work out what, exactly, they were getting at with certain items on the list.

We genuinely spent longer looking up their odd spellings and translations of various regional staples than a) deciding what we wanted and b) ordering.

But then that’s half the fun. In the end parts of the order was still wild guess work.

At one point, I even wondered if maybe they should have called the deal itself something a little more obvious.

But then calling it anything other than a “Happy Night Meal” would definitely make it lose some of its charm. It’s certainly more memorable this way, with its quirky turn of phrase.

Genuinely – it’s going to be one of the things I miss most, now I won’t be visiting the area so much.

 

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