Say whether the following statements are true (T) or false (F). 2 страница
The bedroom is smaller than the living-room and not as light as there is only one window in it. In this room there are two beds with a bedside table between them. In the left-hand corner there is a dressing-table with a big mirror. In this room we have a built-in wardrobe. There is a thick carpet on the floor and plain light-brown curtains on the window.
| The third room is the study. It is not so large as dining-room but it is as cosy as all the other rooms. There is not much furniture in it, only the most necessary pieces. It has a writing-desk with drawers to keep paper in. There is a phone on the left. Just behind it there is a reading lamp. There are books on |  |
the shelves all round the walls. A small table with a stereo-system is standing in the left corner. Near it there is a sofa with some cushions. In my opinion the study is the best room in our flat.
Task 4.Translate the sentences:
1. В прошлом месяце мы переехали в новую квартиру, и у нас было новоселье.
2. Комната очень светлая и уютная.
3. Это двухместный номер: здесь есть две кровати, телевизор, письменный стол, пара стульев, а также шкаф для одежды.
4. Мне не нравится жить выше 5 этажа, я не люблю подниматься пешком.
5. Обычно в субботу он убирает квартиру: пылесосит ковер, моет пол, вытирает пыль.
6. Я не знаю ее новый адрес, она недавно переехала в трехкомнатную квартиру.
7. Комната хорошо спланирована и обставлена.
8. В гостиной стены оклеены обоями, в кухне покрашены, а в ванной – кафель.
9. Окна моей квартиры выходят на восток.
10. Вчера приходили гости: сначала они позвонили, но звонок не работал, и они постучали в дверь.
Home Reading
Without turning on the light he imagined how this room would look. His wife stretched on the bed, uncovered and cold, like a body displayed on the lid of a tomb, her eyes fixed to the ceiling by invisible threads of steel, immovable. And in her ears the little Seashells, the thimble radios tamped tight, and an electronic ocean of sound, of music and talk and music and talk coming in, coming in on the shore of her unsleeping mind. The room was indeed empty. Every night the waves came in and bore her off on their great tides of sound, floating her, wide-eyed, toward morning. There had been no night in the last two years that Mildred had not swum that sea, had not gladly gone down in it for the third time.
The room was cold but nonetheless he felt he could not breathe. He did not wish to open the curtains and open the french windows, for he did not want the moon to come into the room. So, with the feeling of a man who will die in the next hour for lack of air,. he felt his way toward his open, separate, and therefore cold bed.
An instant before his foot hit the object on the floor he knew he would hit such an object. It was not unlike the feeling he had experienced before turning the corner and almost knocking the girl down. His foot, sending vibrations ahead, received back echoes of the small barrier across its path even as the foot swung. His foot kicked. The object gave a dull clink and slid off in darkness.
He stood very straight and listened to the person on the dark bed in the completely featureless night. The breath coming out of the nostrils was so faint it stirred only the furthest fringes of life, a small leaf, a black feather, a single fibre of hair.
He still did not want outside light. He pulled out his igniter, felt the salamander etched on its silver disc, gave it a flick...
Two moonstones looked up at him in the light of his small hand-held fire; two pale moonstones buried in a creek of clear water over which the life of the world ran, not touching them.
“Mildred!”
Her face was like a snow-covered island upon which rain might fall; but it felt no rain; over which clouds might pass their moving shadows, but she felt no shadow. There was only the singing of the thimble-wasps in her tamped-shut ears, and her eyes all glass, and breath going in and out, softly, faintly, in and out of her nostrils, and her not caring whether it came or went, went or came.
The object he had sent tumbling with his foot now glinted under the edge of his own bed. The small crystal bottle of sleeping-tablets which earlier today had been filled with thirty capsules and which now lay uncapped and empty in the light of the tiny flare.
As he stood there the sky over the house screamed. There was a tremendous ripping sound as if two giant hands had torn ten thousand miles of black linen down the seam. Montag was cut in half. He felt his chest chopped down and split apart. The jet-bombs going over, going over, going over, one two, one two, one two, six of them, nine of them, twelve of them, one and one and one and another and another and another, did all the screaming for him. He opened his own mouth and let their shriek come down and out between his bared teeth. The house shook. The flare went out in his hand. The moonstones vanished. He felt his hand plunge toward the telephone.
The jets were gone. He felt his lips move, brushing the mouthpiece of the phone. “Emergency hospital.” A terrible whisper.
He felt that the stars had been pulverized by the sound of the black jets and that in the morning the earth would be thought as he stood shivering in the dark, and let his lips go on moving and moving.
They had this machine. They had two machines, really. One of them slid down into your stomach like a black cobra down an echoing well looking for all the old water and the old time gathered there. It drank up the green matter that flowed to the top in a slow boil. Did it drink of the darkness? Did it suck out all the poisons accumulated with the years? It fed in silence with an occasional sound of inner suffocation and blind searching. It had an Eye. The impersonal operator of the machine could, by wearing a special optical helmet, gaze into the soul of the person whom he was pumping out. What did the Eye see? He did not say. He saw but did not see what the Eye saw. The entire operation was not unlike the digging of a trench in one's yard. The woman on the bed was no more than a hard stratum of marble they had reached. Go on, anyway, shove the bore down, slush up the emptiness, if such a thing could be brought out in the throb of the suction snake. The operator stood smoking a cigarette. The other machine was working too.
The other machine was operated by an equally impersonal fellow in non-stainable reddish-brown overalls. This machine pumped all of the blood from the body and replaced it with fresh blood and serum.
“Got to clean ‘em out both ways,” said the operator, standing over the silent woman. “No use getting the stomach if you don't clean the blood. Leave that stuff in the blood and the blood hits the brain like a mallet, bang, a couple of thousand times and the brain just gives up, just quits.”
“Stop it!” said Montag.
“I was just sayin',” said the operator.
“Are you done?” said Montag.
They shut the machines up tight. “We're done.” His anger did not even touch them. They stood with the cigarette smoke curling around their noses and into their eyes without making them blink or squint. “That's fifty bucks.”
“First, why don't you tell me if she'll be all right?”
“Sure, she'll be O. K. We got all the mean stuff right in our suitcase here, it can't get at her now. As I said, you take out the old and put in the new and you're O. K.”
“Neither of you is an M. D. Why didn't they send an M. D. from Emergency?”
“Hell!” the operator's cigarette moved on his lips. “We get these cases nine or ten a night. Got so many, starting a few years ago, we had the special machines built. With the optical lens, of course, that was new; the rest is ancient. You don't need an M. D., case like this; all you need is two handymen, clean up the problem in half an hour. Look”—he started for the door—“we gotta go. Just had another call on the old ear-thimble. Ten blocks from here. Someone else just jumped off the cap of a pillbox. Call if you need us again. Keep her quiet. We got a contra-sedative in her. She'll wake up hungry. So long.”
And the men with the cigarettes in their straight-lined mouths, the men with the eyes of puff-adders, took up their load of machine and tube, their case of liquid melancholy and the slow dark sludge of nameless stuff, and strolled out the door.
Montag sank down into a chair and looked at this woman. Her eyes were closed now, gently, and he put out his hand to feel the warmness of breath on his palm.
“Mildred,” he said, at last.
There are too many of us, he thought. There are billions of us and that's too many. Nobody knows anyone. Strangers come and violate you. Strangers come and cut your heart out. Strangers come and take your blood. Good God, who were those men? I never saw them before in my life!
Half an hour passed.
The bloodstream in this woman was new and it seemed to have done a new thing to her. Her cheeks were very pink and her lips were very fresh and full of colour and they looked soft and relaxed. Someone else's blood there. If only someone else's flesh and brain and memory. If only they could have taken her mind along to the dry-cleaner's and emptied the pockets and steamed and cleansed it and reblocked it and brought it back in the morning. If only...
He got up and put back the curtains and opened the windows wide to let the night air in. It was two o'clock in the morning. Was it only an hour ago, Clarisse McClellan in the street, and him coming in, and the dark room and his foot kicking the little crystal bottle? Only an hour, but the world had melted down and sprung up in a new and colourless form.
Laughter blew across the moon-coloured lawn from the house of Clarisse and her father and mother and the uncle who smiled so quietly and so earnestly. Above all, their laughter was relaxed and hearty and not forced in any way, coming from the house that was so brightly lit this late at night while all the other houses were kept to themselves in darkness. Montag heard the voices talking, talking, talking, giving, talking, weaving, reweaving their hypnotic web.
Montag moved out through the french windows and crossed the lawn, without even thinking of it. He stood outside the talking house in the shadows, thinking he might even tap on their door and whisper, “Let me come in. I won't say anything. I just want to listen. What is it you're saying?”
But instead he stood there, very cold, his face a mask of ice, listening to a man's voice (the uncle?) moving along at an easy pace:
“Well, after all, this is the age of the disposable tissue. Blow your nose on a person, wad them, flush them away, reach for another, blow, wad, flush. Everyone using everyone else's coattails. How are you supposed to root for the home team when you don't even have a programme or know the names? For that matter, what colour jerseys are they wearing as they trot out on to the field?”
Montag moved back to his own house, left the window wide, checked Mildred, tucked the covers about her carefully, and then lay down with the moonlight on his cheek-bones and on the frowning ridges in his brow, with the moonlight distilled in each eye to form a silver cataract there.
One drop of rain. Clarisse. Another drop. Mildred. A third. The uncle. A fourth. The fire tonight. One, Clarisse. Two, Mildred. Three, uncle. Four, fire, One, Mildred, two, Clarisse. One, two, three, four, five, Clarisse, Mildred, uncle, fire, sleeping-tablets, men, disposable tissue, coat-tails, blow, wad, flush, Clarisse, Mildred, uncle, fire, tablets, tissues, blow, wad, flush. One, two, three, one, two, three! Rain. The storm. The uncle laughing. Thunder falling downstairs. The whole world pouring down. The fire gushing up in a volcano. All rushing on down around in a spouting roar and rivering stream toward morning.
“I don't know anything any more,” he said, and let a sleep-lozenge dissolve on his tongue.
At nine in the morning, Mildred's bed was empty.
Montag got up quickly, his heart pumping, and ran down the hall and stopped at the kitchen door.
Toast popped out of the silver toaster, was seized by a spidery metal hand that drenched it with melted butter.
Mildred watched the toast delivered to her plate. She had both ears plugged with electronic bees that were humming the hour away. She looked up suddenly, saw him, and nodded.
“You all right?” he asked.
She was an expert at lip-reading from ten years of apprenticeship at Seashell ear-thimbles. She nodded again. She set the toaster clicking away at another piece of bread.
Montag sat down.
Ray Bradbury
“Fahrenheit 451”
Give the summary of the text
Unit 3 My Working Day
Active vocabulary
| get up | вставать (с постели) |
| alarm-clock | будильник |
| wake up | будить, просыпаться |
| jump out | выпрыгивать, вскакивать |
| leave | покидать, оставлять, уезжать |
| get ready for smth | быть готовым к чему-либо |
| make one’s bed | заправлять кровать |
| hear | слышать |
| have a shower (a bath) | принимать душ (ванну) |
| clean teeth | чистить зубы |
| brush hair | расчесывать волосы |
| turn on | включить |
| turn off | выключить |
| go for a walk | пойти погулять |
| go to bed | ложиться спать |
| go on foot | идти пешком |
| go by bus/tram | ехать на автобусе/трамвае |
| it takes me 10 minutes | занимает 10 минут |
| to make-up | делать макияж |
Task 1.Read and translate.
A student’s day
 | It is seven o’clock. Who(m) do you see in the picture? We see Mary in it. Is she still asleep? No, she is not. She is already up, she has opened the window and turned on the radio. She is doing her morning exercises to the music. What is she going to do next? She is going to have a wash. |
 | It is a quarter past seven. Mary is in the bathroom. She has just taken a cold shower, dried herself on the towel and cleaned her teeth. Now she is doing her hair before the mirror. What is she going to do next? She is going to dress. |
 | Mary is in the bedroom again. She has already brushed her clothes and shoes. What is she doing now? She is putting on her shoes now. Did she make her bed? Yes, she did. |
 | It is a quarter to eight. The family had breakfast. While Mary is sweeping the floor with a broom her mother is washing up. Is Mary going to stay at home? No, she is not. She is going to the University. |
 | It is eight o’clock. Mary is hurrying to the University. She is a first-year student of the History faculty. Her classes begin at half past eight. Mary is never late for her classes. Does she go on foot to the University? No, she doesn’t. She goes by Metro. How long does it take her to get to the University? It takes her half an hour to get there. |
 | It is two o’clock. The classes are over. Mary and her friends are having dinner. Are they going home after dinner? No, they are not. They are going to the reading-room to prepare their homework there. |
 | It is nearly six o’clock in the evening. Mary came home after a walk. She is reading now. Is Mary going to do anything about the house? She is going to iron her father’s shirts. |
 | It is ten minutes to ten. The working day is over. The family are all together: Mary is playing the piano, her brother is watching TV, her father is reading a newspaper, her mother is knitting. The family are not going to bed yet. |
Task 2.Read the text. Ask your friend about his (her) working day.
My working day (2)
On Tuesday I get up at half past six. I go to the bathroom and wash my hands and face and clean my teeth. Then I dress, go to the kitchen and cook breakfast for my family.
At half past seven my son gets up and has breakfast. I have breakfast with my son. My son eats a sandwich and drinks a cup of tea. I don’t drink tea. I drink coffee.
After breakfast my son goes to school. I don’t leave home with my son. On Tuesday I don’t work in the morning. I work in the afternoon.
In the evening I am at home. My husband and my son are at home, too. We rest in the evening. My son watches TV, my husband reads newspapers or books and I do some work about the house. At about eleven o’clock we go to bed.
Task 3. What time is it? Be ready to answer teacher’s questions.
 | It is five minutes to four. |
 | It is twenty minutes past six. |
 | It is a quarter pastthree. |
 | It is a quarter to four. |
 | It is half past three. |
In the morning
In the afternoon
In the evening
At night
 |  |  |
| At 6.20 a.m. | At noon. At midnight. | At 6.20 p.m. |
Task 4.Make up sentences:
| Мои родители | to get up at | 6:30 |
| Я | 7:15 | |
| Моя сестра | 7:30 | |
| Моя мама | 7:45 | |
| Мы | 8:00 | |
| Мой племянник | 8:30 |
Task 5.Speak about your working day.
The following questions will help you.
1. When do you usually get up?
2. Who (what) wakes you up?
3. Do you do your morning exercises?
4. Where do you wash, clean your teeth and have a shower?
5. Do you feel sleepy in the morning?
6. What are you by nature, a lark or an owl?
7. What do you usually have for breakfast?
8. What time do you usually leave home?
9. How long does it take you to get to the University?
10. How do you get there: by bus, by tram or on foot?
11. When and where do you have dinner?
12. How many classes do you have a day?
13. What do you usually do after classes?
14. What do you do in the evening?
15. When do you go to bed?
Task 5.Speak about
1. Your parent’s working day;
2. Your plans for the next week-end;
3. Your last evening.
Home Reading
The Major got out of the jeep. He was a tall, straight man with a deep desert tan that went well with his simple khakis. A pistol was strapped to his Sam Browne belt, and he was wearing reflector sunglasses. It was rumored that the Major's eyes were extremely light-sensitive, and he was never seen in public without his sunglasses.
"Sit down, boys," he said. "Keep Hint Thirteen in mind." Hint Thirteen was "Conserve energy whenever possible."
Those who had stood sat down. Garraty looked at his watch again. It said 8:16, and he decided it was a minute fast. The Major always showed up on time. He thought momentarily of setting it back a minute and then forgot it.
"I'm not going to make a speech," the Major said, sweeping them with the blank lenses that covered his eyes. "I give my congratulations to the winner among your number, and my acknowledgments of valor to the losers. "
He turned to the back of the jeep. There was a living silence. Garraty breathed deep of the spring air. It would be warm. A good day to walk.
The Major turned back to them. He was holding a clipboard. "When I call your name, please step forward and take your number. Then go back to your place until it is time to begin. Do this smartly, please."
"You're in the army now," Olson whispered with a grin, but Garraty ignored it. You couldn't help admiring the Major. Garraty's father, before the Squads took him away, had been fond of calling the Major the rarest and most dangerous monster any nation can produce, a society supported sociopath. But he had never seen the Major in person.
"Aaronson. "
A short, chunky farmboy with a sunburned neck gargled forward, obviously awed by the Major's presence, and took his large plastic 1. He fixed it to his shirt by the pressure strip and the Major clapped him on the back.
"Abraham. "
A tall boy with reddish hair in jeans and a T-shirt. His jacket was tied about his waist schoolboy style and flapped wildly around his knees. Olson sniggered.
"Baker, Arthur."
"That's me," Baker said, and got to his feet. He moved with deceptive leisure, and he made Garraty nervous. Baker was going to be tough. Baker was going to last a long time.
Baker came back. He had pressed his number 3 onto the right breast of his shirt.
"Did he say anything to you?" Garraty asked.
"He asked me if it was commencing to come off hot down home," Baker said shyly. "Yeah, he . . . the Major talked to me."
"Not as hot as it's gonna commence getting up here," Olson cracked.
"Baker, James," the Major said.
It went on until 8:40, and it came out right. No one had ducked out. Back in the parking lot, engines started and a number of cars began pulling out-boys from the backup list who would now go home and watch the Long Walk coverage on TV. It's on, Garraty thought, it's really on.
When his turn came, the Major gave him number 47 and told him "Good luck." Up close he smelled very masculine and somehow overpowering. Garraty had an almost insatiable urge to touch the man's leg and make sure he was real.
Peter McVries was 61. Hank Olson was 70. He was with the Major longer than the rest. The Major laughed at something Olson said and clapped him on the back.
"I told him to keep a lot of money on short call," Olson said when he came back. "And he told me to give 'em hell. Said he liked to see someone who was raring to rip. Give 'em hell, boy, he said."
"Pretty good," McVries said, and then winked at Garraty. Garraty wondered what McVries had meant, winking like that. Was he making fun of Olson?
The skinny boy in the tree was named Stebbins. He got his number with his head down, not speaking to the Major at all, and then sat back at the base of his tree. Garraty was somehow fascinated with the boy.
Number 100 was a red-headed fellow with a volcanic complexion. His name was Zuck. He got his number and then they all sat and waited for what would come next.
Then three soldiers from the halftrack passed out wide belts with snap pockets. The pockets were filled with tubes of high-energy concentrate pastes. More soldiers came around with canteens. They buckled on the belts and slung the canteens. Olson slung his belt low on his hips like a gunslinger, found a Waifa chocolate bar, and began to eat it. "Not bad," he said, grinning.
He swigged from his canteen, washing down the chocolate, and Garraty wondered if Olson was just fronting, or if he knew something Garraty did not.
The Major looked them over soberly. Garraty's wristwatch said 8:56 – how had it gotten so late?
His stomach lurched painfully.
"All right, fellows, line up by tens, please. No particular order. Stay with your friends, if you like."
Garraty got up. He felt numb and unreal. It was as if his body now belonged to someone else.
"Well, here we go," McVries said at his elbow. "Good luck, everyone."
"Good luck to you," Garraty said surprised.
McVries said: "I need my fucking head examined." He looked suddenly pale and sweaty, not so awesomely fit as he had earlier. He was trying to smile and not making it. The scar stood out on his cheek like a wild punctuation mark.
Stebbins got up and ambled to the rear of the ten wide, ten deep queue. Olson, Baker, McVries, and Garraty were in the third row. Garraty's mouth was dry. He wondered if he should drink some water. He decided against it. He had never in his life been so aware of his feet. He wondered if he might freeze and get his ticket on the starting line. He wondered if Stebbins would fold early – Stebbins with his jelly sandwich and his purple pants. He wondered if he would fold up first. He wondered what it would feel like if-
His wristwatch said 8:59.
The Major was studying a stainless steel pocket chronometer. He raised his fingers slowly, and everything hung suspended with his hand. The hundred boys watched it carefully, and the silence was awful and immense. The silence was everything. Garraty's watch said 9:00, but the poised hand did not fall.
Do it! Why doesn't he do it?
He felt like screaming it out.
Then he remembered that his watch was a minute fast – you could set your watch by the Major, only he hadn't, he had forgotten.
The Major's fingers dropped. "Luck to all," he said. His face was expressionless and the reflector sunglasses hid his eyes. They began to walk smoothly, with no jostling.
Richard Bachman (Stephen King)
“The long walk”
1) Try to compose the continuation of the story.
2) Characterize the main heroes.
Unit 4 Shopping
Active vocabulary
| ready-made clothes | готовая одежда | ||
| dress | платье | ||
| size | размер | ||
| cut | покрой | ||
| evening gown | вечернее платье | ||
| dressing gown | халат | ||
| skirt | юбка | ||
| blouse | блузка | ||
| suit | костюм | ||
| jacket | пиджак, куртка | ||
| coat | пальто | ||
| raincoat | плащ | ||
| trousers | брюки | ||
| shorts | шорты | ||
| T-shirt | футболка | ||
| knitted-goods | трикотаж | ||
| jumper (pullover) | джемпер | ||
| sweater | свитер | ||
| cloth/ material | ткань | ||
| wool | шерсть | ||
| silk | шелк | ||
| cotton | хлопок | ||
| velvet | бархат | ||
| leather | кожа | ||
| crockery | посуда | ||
| dinnerware | set | столовый | сервиз |
| teaware | чайный | ||
| coffeeware | кофейный | ||
| plate | тарелка | ||
| saucer | блюдце | ||
| cup | чашка | ||
| jewellery | ювелирные изделия | ||
| ring | кольцо | ||
| ear-ring | серьги | ||
| chain | цепочка | ||
| bracelet | браслет | ||
| brooch | брошь | ||
| necklace | ожерелье | ||
| price-tag | ценник | ||
| footwear | обувь | ||
| to try on smth | примерять | ||
| to be in fashion | быть в моде | ||
| cash-desk | касса | ||
| department store | универсальный магазин | ||
| supermarket | магазин самообслуживания | ||
| the greengrocer’s | овощной магазин | ||
| the baker’s | булочная | ||
| the butcher’s | мясной магазин | ||
| dairy | молочный магазин | ||
| fruit-shop | фруктовый магазин | ||
| confectionery | кондитерская | ||
