Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Mr. Bean in Town L1


Mr Bean PDF
Audio Steak Tartare
Audio Launderette

It was Mr. Bean's birthday, and he wanted to enjoy it! What could he do?
'How can I make this important day a happy day?' he thought. 'I know. I'll
go out to a restaurant for dinner this evening! I'll enjoy that.'

Mr. Bean didn't often eat in restaurants. They were sometimes very expensive. And he sometimes did things wrong when he was in a new or strange place.

Oh dear! Life wasn't easy for Mr. Bean!

That evening, Mr. Bean put on a clean shirt. He put on his best coat and trousers. He put on his best shoes. Then he drove to a restaurant in the center of town.

He arrived at eight o'clock and went inside. It was a very nice restaurant.
Everybody was wearing their best clothes, and there were flowers on every table.

'I'm going to like it here,' thought Mr. Bean. 'This is a good restaurant for
my birthday dinner.'

The manager met him at the door.

'Good evening, sir,' he said. 'How are you? Would you like a table for one?'

'Yes, please,' said Mr. Bean.

'Follow me, sir,' said the manager.

He walked across the room to a table, and Mr. Bean went after him.
'Here you are, sir,' said the manager. 'This is a nice table.'

He pulled the chair away from the table. Then he waited for Mr. Bean to sit down. Mr. Bean looked at him.

‘Why is he taking my chair away?’ thought Mr. Bean. ‘What’s he doing?'

And he pulled the chair away from the manager and sat down quickly. When the manager went away, Mr. Bean sat quietly for a minute. Then he remembered something. He took a birthday card and an envelope out of his jacket. Next, he took out a pen and wrote 'Happy Birthday, Bean' inside the card. Then he put the card into the envelope and wrote his name on the outside of it. He put it on the table, and put his pen back into his jacket.

After a minute or two, Mr. Bean pretended to see the card for the first time.

'Oh! A card - for me?' he said.

He opened the envelope and took out the card. He read it carefully.

'Now that's nice!' he said. 'Somebody remembered my birthday!'

And he stood the card on his table.

The manager arrived with the menu and gave it to Mr. Bean. Mr. Bean
started to read it.

'Oh, dear!' he thought. 'Everything's very expensive! What can I have?'
Mr. Bean got out his money. He had a ten-pound note and some coins. He put the money on to a plate.

'How much have I got?' he said, and he moved the money round on the plate.

'Ten, eleven ... And forty, fifty, fifty-five! Eleven pounds and fifty-five pence.'

He looked at the menu again. What could he eat for eleven pounds fifty-five?

The manager came to his table.

'Are you ready, sir?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Mr. Bean. He put his finger on the menu. 'I'll have that, please.'

The manager looked at the menu. 'The steak tartare, sir. Yes, of course.'

'Yes,' said Mr. Bean. 'Steak.'

The manager took the menu and went away. Mr. Bean sat and looked round the restaurant. There were a lot of people in the room. There was a man and a woman at the next table. They ate and talked.

Suddenly, a waiter arrived at Mr. Bean's table with a bottle of wine.

'Would you like to try the wine, sir?' he said.

'Oh, yes please,' said Mr. Bean.

The waiter put some wine in Mr. Bean's glass and Mr. Bean had a drink. It
was very nice! He smiled, and the waiter tried to put more wine into the glass.

Of course, the waiter was right. First, the customer tries his wine. When he
is happy with it, the waiter gives him more wine. But Mr. Bean didn't know this, and he quickly put his hand across the glass.

'No, thank you,' he said. 'I don't drink wine when I'm driving.' The waiter
looked at him strangely - and walked away. He didn't say, 'Why did you try the wine when you didn't want it, you stupid man!'

Mr. Bean took the knife from the table and started to play with it. He
pretended to be a bad man. He pretended to push the knife into somebody. But he didn't really want to kill anybody, of course. It was a game.
The woman at the next table looked at him angrily, and Mr. Bean quickly
moved the knife. Next, he hit the glasses and plate on his table with it.

Ping, ping,ping they went! And after a minute, he played the song 'Happy Birthday' on the glasses. He smiled and thought, 'I'm very clever!'
But the woman at the next table didn't think, 'That's clever!' or 'Oh yes,
that's funny!' She thought, 'That man's really stupid!' And she looked hard at Mr. Bean.

Mr. Bean put the knife down and looked at his napkin.

'It's a very nice napkin,' he thought.

The waiter saw Mr. Bean looking at his napkin. He didn't say anything, but
suddenly —flick! — he opened it for Mr. Bean.

'That's clever,' thought Mr. Bean. 'I'll try that!'

And he began to move his napkin. Flick! Flick! Flick!
Suddenly, the napkin flew out of his hand. It flew across on to the next
table. The woman at the table looked round again. But Mr. Bean pretended not to see her. His face said, 'It's not my napkin!'

A minute later, the waiter arrived with his food. There was a large cover on
the plate and Mr. Bean couldn't see the food. But he gave the waiter the money on the table.

Customers don't usually give a waiter money when he arrives with the food. But the waiter didn't say anything. He took the money and put it in his jacket.

Mr. Bean was happy. 'I'm doing everything right,' he thought.
The waiter took the cover off the plate and walked away. Mr. Bean looked
at the food in front of him. He put his nose near the meat and smelled it. Then he put his ear next to it.

'What's this?' he thought.

He put some of the meat into his mouth. Suddenly, the manager arrived at his table.

'Is everything all right, sir?' he asked. 'Are you happy with everything?'

'Mmmmm,' said Mr. Bean. He smiled.

The manager smiled, too. He walked away — and Mr. Bean's face changed.

There was no smile now. 'Aaagh!' he thought. 'They didn't cook this meat!'

But he had to eat it. 'I don't want people to think that I'm stupid,' he thought.

'But I'll never ask for steak tartare again! Never!'

He pushed his plate away. But then the waiter went past his table.

'Is everything all right, sir?' he asked.

'Oh, yes,' said Mr. Bean. He smiled. 'Yes, everything's very nice, thank you.'

He smiled and pretended to eat some meat. But the waiter went away before Mr. Bean put it into his mouth.

'What can I do with it?' he thought. 'I can't eat this. Where can I hide it?'

Then he had an idea. Carefully, he put the meat into the mustard pot and put the cover on it.

'Where can I put some now?' he thought. 'I can't eat it, so I've got to hide all
of it. Oh, yes, the flowers!'

He took the flowers out of the vase. But then the manager went past, so Mr.
Bean pretended to smell the flowers.

'Mmm, very nice!' he said.

The manager smiled and walked away.
Quickly, Mr. Bean put some meat into the vase and pushed the flowers in
on top of it. He looked round the table.

'Where next?' he thought. 'Yes! The bread!'

He took his knife and cut the bread roll. Then he quickly ate the middle of
it. Now he could push some meat inside the roll. He did this, then he put the roll down. He looked at the meat on his plate.

'There's a lot of it,' he thought. 'Where can I hide it now?'

He looked at the small plate on the table. Perhaps he could hide some meat
under the plate. He looked round.

'Nobody's watching me,' he thought.

So he took more meat from the big plate in front of him, and put it under the small plate. Then he pushed down hard with his hand.

The waiter walked past his table again. Mr. Bean smiled at him and put his
arm on the plate. After the waiter went away, he pushed down on the small plate again.

'That's better,' he thought. 'Now you can't see the meat. Good. But there's
more meat. Where can I hide it?'

He looked round the table.

'The sugar pot!' he thought. 'But it's got sugar in it. What can I do?'

He thought quickly, then he put some sugar into a wine glass. Next, he put
some of the meat into the sugar pot. Then he put the sugar from the wine glass on top of it.

'Good!' he thought. 'Nobody can see it in there.'

Suddenly, Mr. Bean could hear music.

'Where's that coming from?' he thought.

He looked round — and saw a man with a violin. After a minute or two, the
man came across to Mr. Bean's table and played for him.
Mr. Bean smiled.

'This is nice,' he thought.

Then the man saw Mr. Bean's birthday card, and the music changed. The man started to play 'Happy Birthday.’

The people at the other tables looked round when they heard the song.

'Who's having a birthday?' they thought. Then they saw Mr. Bean and smiled at him. Mr. Bean smiled back at them.
He pretended to eat some of the meat, but he didn't put it into his mouth.
The man with the violin walked round Mr. Bean's table and watched him. He played his violin and waited for Mr. Bean to eat the meat. And he waited ... and waited ... and waited ...

‘I’ll have to eat some,' thought Mr. Bean. 'He'll only go away when I eat it.'

So he put the meat into his mouth.
And the man with the violin turned away to the next table.
The meat was in Mr. Bean's mouth, but he didn't want to eat it. He wanted
to put it somewhere. But where? He looked at the man with the violin. He moved quickly. He pulled open the back of the man's trousers and opened his mouth. The meat fell inside the trousers!

He smiled. 'That was clever,' he thought.

The man with the violin moved round the next table. He played a song to
the man and the woman. The music was very beautiful. They listened and drank their wine. They watched the man with the violin, so their eyes weren't on Mr. Bean. Nobody's eyes were on Mr. Bean. He saw this, and he had an idea.

Mr. Bean quickly took the woman's bag from the floor. He opened it and
pushed some meat inside it. Then he put the bag on the floor again.
But when he did this, he accidentally put his foot out.

The waiter walked past with some plates of food — and he fell over Mr.
Bean's foot! The plates fell on to Mr. Bean's table, and on to the floor. There was a loud CRASH!, and the people at the other tables looked up quickly.

'What happened?' they said. Then they saw the waiter on the floor. 'Oh,
dear!' they said.

Now Mr. Bean had another idea. Here was the answer to his problem!
He moved very quickly. He pushed the meat from his plate on to the table
with the other food. Then he pretended to be very angry. 'Look, you stupid man!' he said to the waiter. 'Oh, look at this!'

The waiter got up from the floor.

'I'm sorry, sir,' he said. 'I'm really very sorry.'

The manager arrived at the table.

'I'm very sorry, too, sir,' he said. 'Oh, the food—!'

'Yes, it's everywhere!' said Mr. Bean. 'Look! It's in the mustard pot. It's in
the bread roll. It's in the vase of flowers.' He took the woman's bag from the floor.

'And it's in here!' He pulled open the back of the violin player's trousers. 'And here!’

The waiter couldn't understand it.

'Go back to the kitchen,' the manager told him, and the waiter went away.

Then the manager turned to Mr. Bean. 'Please, sir,' he said. 'Come with me.'

'What?' said Mr. Bean. 'Oh, yes, all right.'

The manager took Mr. Bean to a clean table.

'Sit here, sir,' he said.

Mr. Bean sat down.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

The manager opened Mr. Bean's napkin. Then he got the birthday card from the other table. He put it on Mr. Bean's clean table.

'Thank you,' said Mr. Bean.

The man with the violin came across and played 'Happy Birthday' to him
again. Mr. Bean smiled. Now everything was all right.

'Now I can start again,' he thought. 'And this time I'll do everything right.'

The waiter arrived at Mr. Bean's table. He put a plate in front of Mr. Bean.
The manager smiled and took off the cover.
Mr. Bean looked down.
And he stopped smiling.
There, in front of him, was a very large plate — of steak tartare!

The Launderette



A lot of Mr. Bean's clothes were dirty.

'I'll go to the launderette this morning,' he thought. 'I'll take the car.'

He put his dirty clothes into a very large black bag, and took the bag out to
his car. He put it inside. Then he got in and drove to the launderette.
The launderette wasn't very busy that morning. Before Mr. Bean arrived,
there were only two women there. The younger woman was with the launderette manager.

'I've got to wash a lot of clothes,' the young woman said to the manager. 'I'll
want a big washing machine.'

'This is one of our bigger machines,' said the manager. 'Use this.'

At that minute, Mr. Bean arrived. He had the black bag on his back, and he
couldn't get it through the launderette door.

'Oh!' he said.

He pulled and he pushed. He pushed and he pulled. In the end, he got the
bag inside. He took it across to one of the washing machines.

'Money,' he thought. 'I want two one-pound coins for the washing machine.'
He took two one-pound coins out of his jacket and put them on the top of
the machine.

But then Mr. Bean saw a note above the washing machine: Machines now
cost £3.

'Oh, no!' thought Mr. Bean. 'Have I got another one-pound coin?'

He looked in his jacket and his trousers, but he could only find a five-pence
coin. He put this on top of the washing machine.

Then Mr. Bean remembered something. He did have another one-pound
coin, but...

He looked round.
The young woman was next to the big washing machine.
Mr. Bean saw her putting some clothes into it. The launderette manager was busy in his little office.

'Nobody's watching me,' thought Mr. Bean. 'Good.'He opened the front of his trousers. Then he started to pull out some string.

The young woman turned suddenly and saw Mr. Bean pulling the string out
of his trousers.

'What is that man doing?' she thought.

Mr. Bean saw her looking and turned away quickly.

But now the older woman looked at him. Her eyes opened wide. 'That's a
strange man,' the woman thought. 'He's got string inside his trousers!'
On the end of the string was some paper, and inside the paper was a one pound coin. Mr. Bean smiled. He took the coin out of the paper and put it on the top of the washing machine. Then he put the five-pence coin back into his jacket.

Next, he opened the washing machine.
A man came into the launderette with a bag of dirty clothes under his arm.
He was young and strong. When he saw Mr. Bean, he smiled. But it wasn't a nice smile. He didn't say 'Hello' or 'Good morning'. He pushed Mr. Bean away from the washing machine.

'What-!' began Mr. Bean.

Then the young man pushed Mr. Bean's one-pound coins on to the next
machine.

Mr. Bean was angry. He turned round to speak angrily — but then he saw
the young man taking a white karate suit out of his bag.

'A karate suit!' thought Mr. Bean. 'So he can fight. Perhaps I won't say
anything.'

The young man pushed his white karate suit into the washing machine.
Then he put some money into the machine and sat down on a chair. He took a magazine out of his bag and began to read.

Mr. Bean started to put his clothes into his washing machine. There were
some pairs of underpants.

'Monday,' he said, and he put one pair into the machine. 'Tuesday' He put
the next pair into the machine. 'Thursday. Friday. Saturday.' Three pairs went into the machine.

Mr. Bean stopped. 'Wednesday!' he thought. 'Where are Wednesday's underpants? Oh, it's Wednesday today, and I'm wearing them!'
What could he do? He had to wash them, so he had to take them off. He
looked round.

'Where can I go?' he thought.

There was a partition near the washing machines.

'I'll go behind that,' he thought.

He started to walk to the partition, but the young man put his legs across the floor. He wanted to make Mr. Bean angry. But Mr. Bean remembered the karate suit. The man could fight! He walked round the young man's legs and said nothing.

He went behind the partition and carefully took off his brown trousers.
The young woman put some of her clothes into one of the very big washing
machines. The other clothes were on the top of a smaller machine near the
partition.

She didn't watch her clothes very carefully. She didn't see Mr. Bean put a
hand round the partition. And she didn't see him put his brown trousers down with her clothes.

Mr. Bean took off his underpants — Wednesday's underpants. Then he put
his hand round the partition. He took something — but it wasn't his brown
trousers.

It was a long brown skirt. Mr. Bean put on the skirt and came out from behind the partition. He walked back to his washing machine.

The young woman took the brown trousers from the top of the smaller
washing machine. She didn't look at them. She put them into the big machine.

Next, she shut the door of the machine and took a magazine. Then she sat down on a chair near the dryers and started to read. She had her back to Mr. Bean, so she didn't see him wearing her skirt.

Mr. Bean put his Wednesday underpants into his washing machine. Then he closed the door and put in his three one-pound coins. He sat down on a chair — and saw the skirt!

'Oh, no!' he thought. 'What's this? A skirt? Where are my trousers?'

The young man walked past and Mr. Bean tried to hide the skirt with his
hands.

'I don't want him to see me in this skirt,' he thought. 'What will he think?'
The young man went across to a machine on the wall and bought a cup of
conditioner.

Mr. Bean got up and went back to the partition. He looked at the washing
machine next to it and remembered the young woman's clothes.

'She put my trousers in the big washing machine with her things!' he
thought.

He went across to the big washing machine and tried to open it. But he
couldn't do it.

'I'll have to wait,' he thought, and he walked back to his chair.

The young man put his cup of conditioner on the top of his washing
machine. Then he looked at Mr. Bean — and saw the skirt. He started to laugh.

Mr. Bean looked away quickly. He got his black bag - and a pair of
underpants fell out of it.

'Oh! Sunday's underpants!' he said.

He tried to stop his washing machine and open the door. But the machine
didn't stop.

'What can I do?' he thought. He looked down at the skirt. 'I know! I'll wear
Sunday's underpants under this skirt! That's a good idea.'

He looked round, then went across to the conditioner machine, away from
the other people. Carefully, he started to put on Sunday's underpants. He put his feet into them and — suddenly, he couldn't pull them up. He couldn't move them.

There was a strange foot on them!
It was the young man's foot.
Mr. Bean turned round and saw the young man laughing at him. Mr. Bean
wanted to shout, 'Go away, you stupid man!' but he was too afraid.

After a minute, the young man laughed again and went back to his chair. Mr. Bean quickly pulled up Sunday's underpants. He was angry.

'I don't like people laughing at me,' he thought, and he looked at the young
man. 'What can I do to him? I can't fight him. He's too strong.'

Then he had an idea.
There was a coffee machine next to the machine for conditioner. Mr. Bean
went across to it and got a cup of black coffee. He smiled and walked back to his washing machine with the coffee.

The young man's eyes were on his magazine. He didn't look at Mr. Bean or
the washing machine.

'Now!' thought Mr. Bean

And he quickly changed the young man's cup of conditioner for his cup of
black coffee. Then he carried the cup of conditioner to his chair and sat down.

He smiled. 'That will teach him a lesson,' he thought.
After a minute, the young man stood up and went to his machine. He had to
put the conditioner into it now. He stood next to the machine and laughed at Mr. Bean's skirt. So he didn't look at the cup when he put the 'conditioner' into the top of his washing machine.

But, of course, it wasn't conditioner. It was black coffee.
Mr. Bean tried not to laugh.

The young man sat down in his chair again and looked across at his washing machine. There was a window in the door, and the young man could see his white karate suit going round and round in the water. But the suit wasn't white now. It was brown!

'What!?' he shouted.

He jumped up. He ran across to the cup and looked inside it. Then he put it
to his nose and smelled it.

'Coffee!' he shouted. Then he looked across at Mr. Bean. 'Did you ... ?'

Mr. Bean didn't answer, but his face said, 'Who, me?' He pretended to drink
his cup of 'coffee'. But it wasn't coffee, it was conditioner.

The young man went to find the launderette manager. Mr. Bean stopped
drinking and said, 'Aaaagh!'The young man showed the brown kагаtе suit to the launderette manager.

'What's wrong, sir?' said the manager.

'This karate suit was white when I came in here,' said the young man. 'Now
look at it!'

'What did you do to it?' said the manager.

'Me? I didn't do anything to it,' said the young man, angrily. He pulled the
manager across to his washing machine. 'This is your machine. Is that right?'

'Y—yes,' said the manager.

The young man showed him the karate suit again.

'This cost me two hundred pounds!' he said. 'What are you going to do about it?'

'Er – will you come to my office please, sir?' said the manager. 'We can talk
about it there.'

Mr. Bean sat opposite a large dryer. His underpants and other things were in the machine. They were clean now, and nearly dry.

Mr. Bean waited.
After a minute, the dryer stopped. He got up and opened the door. Then he
started to take out his clothes.

A minute or two later, the young woman came to the next dryer and started
to take out her clothes. They were dry, too.

'Perhaps my trousers are in there!' thought Mr. Bean.

The young woman took some clothes out of the machine and put them into
a bag. Then she went back to the big washing machine for her other clothes.

Mr. Bean moved quickly. He started to look through her clothes for his
trousers, but he couldn't find them.

'Where are they?' he thought. 'They're here somewhere. Wait a minute!
Perhaps she left them in the dryer.'

So he looked inside it. First, he put his head into the machine.

'I can't see anything,' he thought. 'It's too dark.'

Next, he climbed into the machine. The young woman was busy at the big washing machine. She didn't see Mr. Bean climb into the dryer. Then she took something out of the big washing machine. Her eyes opened wide.
'What's this?' she thought. 'A pair of trousers. I haven't got any brown
trousers.'

She threw them on to one of the other washing machines, then she took her
clothes across to the dryer.

Mr. Bean was inside the dryer.

'Where are my trousers?' he thought.

Suddenly, the woman's washing began to fly into the machine — a skirt, a
dress and some shirts.

'What-?' began Mr. Bean.

Then the dryer door shut with a BANG!

'Oh, no!' thought Mr. Bean. He turned and climbed back to the door. 'Help!'
he shouted through the window in the door. 'There's somebody in here!'

But the woman couldn't hear him. She took a pound coin and put it into the
dryer.

Mr. Bean hit the window in the dryer door. Bang! Bang! But nobody heard
him.

'I can't get out!' he shouted.

Suddenly, it was very hot inside the dryer. There was a noise — and the
machine started!

The clothes began to go round and round!
And Mr. Bean began to go round and round ... and round ... and round ...

The End

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

White Death L1



PDF

Chapter One

The woman stood in front of the prison. The prison was a big, dirty building in the biggest town of a hot country. The woman was very hot, and she did not like the noise from all the cars in the road. She was an Englishwoman and she did not like hot countries or a lot of noise. She was tall, about fifty years old, with blue eyes and a long face. Her face was red, and she looked tired and angry.

She knocked at the door of the prison. For a long time nothing happened. Then a little window opened in the door, and a man looked out at her.

“Yes? What do you want?”
“I want to see my daughter, It’s very important.”
“Name?”
“Anna Harland.”
“Is that your name or your daughter’s name?”
“It’s my name. My daughter’s name is Sarah Harland.”
“You can’t visit her today. Come back on Wednesday.”
“No. I came from England to see her today. It’s very important. She’s going to court tomorrow. Please take me to her…now!”
“Wait a minute.”

The little window closed, but the door did not open. The woman waited in front of the door for a long time. A lot of people in the road looked at her. One or two young men laughed, but she did not move. She stood there in the hot road in front of the prison door and waited.

After twenty minutes the door opened. “Come with me,” the man said. The woman went in with him. It was very dark in h prison, and at first she could not see very well. She walked for a long time, past hundreds of doors. Then the man opened one of them.

“In here,” he said. “You can have ten minutes.”

Anna Harland walked into the room and the man went in after her. He closed the door behind him. There was a table in the room and two chairs. On one of the chairs sat her daughter, Sarah. She was a tall girl, about nineteen years old with big, blue eyes.

“Mother,” she said. “I’m very happy to see you.” And she got up and began to run across the room to her mother.

“Sarah,” Anna said, and put out her arms. But the man moved quickly and stood between them.

“No,” he said to Anna. “I’m sorry. I know you’re her mother. You can talk but that’s all. Please sit down at the table. I am here to watch you.”

The mother and daughter sat down at the table. Anna’s hands were near Sarah’s on the table. She looked carefully at her daughter. Sarah’s dress and face were dirty. “She’s tired and unhappy,” Anna thought.

“Sarah, what happened?” she said. “We have ten minutes to talk. No more. Tell me, please, quickly. I want to help you.”

Sarah looked at her mother. “Oh mother, I’m happy you’re here. I wanted you to come. Mother, I…I didn’t do it. It isn’t true. Please believe me.”

“Of course I believe you, Sarah. But tell me about it. What happened? Quickly. Begin at the beginning.”

“Yes but…I don’t know…When did it begin? I don’t know…I don’t understand it.”

“Why did the police arrest you? When did they bring you to this prison?”

“Last week, I think. Yes, last week. At the airport, when we arrived…The police stopped us and looked in our bags. Then…”

Sarah looked down at the table. “She’s crying,” Anna thought. “She’s very unhappy.”

“They …they said there were drugs in my bag. Then they took me into a room and told me to take my dress off. They looked for more drugs but they found nothing. Then…then they brought me here.”

“I see. Where were the drugs, then? Where did they find them?”

“Oh. They didn’t tell you?” Sarah stopped crying. She looked up, and there was a smile on her face. But it was not a happy smile. “The drugs were in a tube of toothpaste. A toothpaste tube with drugs in it…heroin…not toothpaste.”

“And you didn’t know about it?”

“No, mother, of course not. Do you think I clean my teeth with heroin?”

Anna Harland smiled. It was difficult to smile because she was afraid. But she smiled because she wanted to help her daughter.

“I know you don’t clean your teeth with heroin. You have very good teeth, Sarah. But…what about Stephen? Did he know about the heroin? Did he put it in the toothpaste tube?”

“Stephen? No…why do you ask about Stephen, mother?”

“Well, is he in prison, too? You said ‘us’ and ‘our bags.’ Did the police arrest him too?”

“Oh…no,” Sarah’s face was unhappy. “No. I wasn’t with Stephen, mother. You see, Stephen and I…well, we aren’t friends now. I left him about two months ago…and then I met Hassan.”

“Hassan?”

“Yes. I was with Hassan at the airport. Stephen was on the plane, too—I don’t know why—but he wasn’t with me. It’s Hassan—he was with me. Hassan’s important to me now, not Stephen.”

Anna looked at her daughter. “I see. And did the police arrest Hassan, too? Is he in prison?”

“Yes he is. They arrested him but I can’t see him. I asked them. I wanted to see him but they said ‘no.’ Mother, I’m sure Hassan didn’t know about the heroin. He’s a good man…he didn’t know, I’m sure”

“Then why was the heroin in your bag, Sara?”

“I don’t know, mother. I don’t know.”

The man looked at the clock. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Harland,” he said. “But that’s ten minutes. It’s time to go.”

Anna Harland stood up slowly. “All right,” she said. “But don’t be afraid, Sarah. I’m coming to the court tomorrow.”

“Yes, mother,” Sarah said. “Thank you. The police are bringing Hassan to court tomorrow, too. I think. You can see him there. He’s a good man, mother, and…I’m sure he didn’t know about the drugs.”

“Perhaps,” Anna said. She walked slowly to the door, and then stood by the door and looked at her daughter again. “Sarah…you are telling me the truth, aren’t you?”

Sarah began to cry again. “Yes, mother, of course I am. I always tell you the truth, you know that.”

Anna smiled. “Yes, Sarah,” she said quietly. “Yes, I believe you.” She went through the door and the man went out after her.

Sarah sat quietly at the table in the room and looked at her hands. “Yes,” she thought. “I told the truth, mother. I always tell you the truth. But I didn’t tell you everything.” She put her head in her hands.

Monday, October 19, 2009

The Monkey's Paw L1



Chapter One

It was cold and dark out in the road and the rain did not stop for a minute. But in the middle of the living room of number 12 Castle Road it was nice and warm. Old Mr. White and his son, Herbert, played chess and Mrs. White sat and watched them. The old woman was happy because her husband and her son were food friends and liked to be together. “Herbert’s a good son,” she thought. “We waited a long time for him and I was nearly forty when he was born, but we are happy family.” And old Mrs. White smiled.

It was true. Herbert was young and laughed a lot, but his mother and his father laughed with him. They didn’t have much but they were a very happy little family.

The two men did not talk because they played carefully. The room was quiet, but the noise of the rain was worse now and they could hear it on the windows. Suddenly old Mr. White looked up. “Listen to the rain,” he said.

“Yes, it’s a bad night,” Herbert answered (an serd). “It’s not a good night to be out, but is your friend, Tom Morris, coming tonight?”

“Yes, that’s right. He’s coming at about seven o’clock,” the old man said. “But perhaps this rain…”

Mr. White did not finish because just then the young man heard a noise.

“Listen,” Herbert said. “There’s someone at the door now.”

“I didn’t hear a noise,” his father answered, but he got up from his chair and went to open the front door. Mrs. White got up too and began to put things away.

Mr. White said, “Come in, come in, Tom. It’s wonderful to see you again. What a bad night. Give me your coat and then come into the living room. It’s nice and warm in here.”

The front door was open and in the living room Mrs. White and Herbert felt the cold. Then Mr. White came back into the living room with a big, red-faced man.

“This is Tom Morris,” Mr. White told his wife and son. “We were friends when we were young. We worked together before Tom went to India. Tom, this is my wife and this is our son, Herbert.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Tom Morris said.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Morris,” Mrs. White answered. “Please come and sit down.”

“Yes, come on, Tom,” Mr. White said. “Over here. It’s nice and warm.”

“Thank you,” the big man answered and he sat down.

“Let’s have some whiskey,” old Mr. White said. “You need something to warm you on a cold night.” He got out a bottle of whiskey and the two old friends began to drink and talk. The little family listened with interest to this visitor from far away and he told them many strange stories.

Chapter Two
After some time Mr. Morris stopped talking and Mr. White said to his wife and son, “Tom was a soldier in India for twenty-one years. India is a wonderful country.”

“Yes,” Herbert said. “I’d like to go there.”

“Oh, Herbert,” his mother cried. She was afraid because she did not want to lose her son.

“I wanted to go to India, too,” her husband said, “but…”

“It’s better for you here,” the soldier said quickly.

“But you saw a lot of strange and wonderful things in India. I want to see them too one day,” Mr. White said.

The soldier put down his whiskey. “No,” he cried. “Stay here!”

Old Mr. White did not stop. “But your stories were interesting,” he said to Tom Morris. “What did you begin to say about a monkey’s paw?”

“Nothing,” Morris answered quickly. “Well…nothing important.”

“A monkey’s paw?” Mrs. White said.

“Come on, Mr. Morris. Tell us about it,” Herbert said.

Mr. Morris took his whiskey in his hand but suddenly put it down again. Slowly he put his hand into the pocket of his coat and the White family watched him.

“What is it? What is it?” Mrs. White cried.

Morris said nothing. He took his hand out of his pocket. The White family watched carefully and in the soldier’s and they saw something little and dirty.

Mrs. White moved back, afraid, but her son, Herbert, took it and looked at it carefully.

“Well, what is it?” Mr. White asked his friend.

“Look at it,” the soldier answered. “It’s a little paw…a monkey’s paw.”

“A monkey’s paw,” Herbert said and he laughed. “Why do you carry a monkey’s paw in your pocket, Mr. Morris?” he asked the old soldier.

“Well, you see,” Morris said, “this monkey’s paw is magic.”

Herbert laughed again, but the soldier said, “Don’t laugh, boy. Remember, you’re young. I’m old now and in India I saw many strange things.” He stopped talking for a minute and then said, “This monkey’s paw can do strange and wonderful things. An old Indian gave the paw to one of my friends. My friend was a soldier, too. This paw is magic because it can give three wishes to three people.”

“Wonderful,” Herbert said.

“But these three wishes don’t bring happiness,” the soldier said. “The old Indian wanted to teach us something: it’s never good to want to change things.”

“Well, did your friend have three wishes?” Herbert asked the old soldier.

“Yes,” Morris answered quietly. “And his third and last wish was to die.”

Mr. and Mrs. White listened to the story and they felt afraid, but Herbert asked, “And did he die?”

“Yes, he did,” Morris said. “He had no family so his things came to me when he died. The monkey’s paw was with the things, but he told me about it before he died,” Tom Morris finished quietly.

“What were his first tow wishes, then?” Herbert asked. “What did he ask for?”

I don’t know. He didn’t want to tell me,” the soldier answered.

For a minute or two everybody was quiet, but then Herbert said, “And you, Mr. Morris, did you have three wishes?”

Saturday, October 3, 2009

The Ugly Duckling


The Ugly Duckling Audio Download

It is summer. A duck sits on her eggs. She sits and waits. She waits and waits.

At last the eggs open. “At last!” says the duck. “My little ducklings!”

But one egg does not open. “Mm,” says her friend. “That egg is strange. Leave it.”

“Leave my egg?” says mother duck. “No. I can’t leave it.” She sits down again and waits.

At last the egg opens. “Oh,” says mother duck to her friend. “You’re right. He is strange. What an ugly duckling!”

But the ugly duckling can swim. He can swim very well. And mother duck is happy.
“Come on, ducklings!” she says.

“Let's go to the farm! I want all my friends to see you.”
“Hello, everyone,” she calls. “Look at my little ducklings!”

“This is my family,” says mother duck.
“Very nice, very nice,” say the ducks. “But that duckling is very big. He's ugly!”

“He is strange,” they say. “He's an ugly duckling.” One of the ducks pecks him.

Every day the farm girl comes. Every day she kicks him. “Go away, you ugly duckling!” she says.

So one day the ugly duckling runs away. He runs away from the farm. “Go! Yes, go!” say his brothers and sisters.
“You're strange! You're ugly!”

It's colder now. The ugly duckling is bigger. One day, two geese see him.
“Mm, you're strange,” they say.

“You're very ugly,” they say.
“But you're interesting. Do you want to fly with us?”

But suddenly there is a bang.
Bang! Bang!
And the geese are dead.

There are some men (they are hunters), men with guns and dogs.
The ugly duckling is afraid.

A big dog comes. He sees the ugly duckling and he looks at him.

Then the dog swims away.
“I am ugly,” says the ugly duckling. “So he doesn't want to eat me.”

The ugly duckling runs away. He comes to an old hut and he goes in.

In the hut there is a woman, a cat, and a hen. The woman is old and she can't see.
“What's this?” she says. “A duck? Ah! You can give me some eggs.”

“Come on,” says the cat.
“Where are your eggs?”
“I haven't got any,” says the ugly duckling.
“Then go,” says the hen.

The ugly duckling goes away. It is winter now. And it is very cold.

One evening the ugly duckling sees something wonderful and strange. Three swans, three big, beautiful swans.

“Oh ,” he cries.
“What beautiful birds!Big, beautiful, and free.”
He calls to them.
“Who are you? Take me with you.”
But they do not hear him.

It is winter now. It is cold.
There is ice on the water.
So the ugly duckling can't swim.

A man sees him. He breaks the ice with his shoe.
“Poor bird,” he says. “Come home with me.”

The man's children want to play. “Come here,” they say. But the ugly duckling runs away.

He falls into the milk. The children laugh.
“Come here,” they say.

Then he falls into the butter.
Oh, dear! What a mess!

Then he falls into the flour.
“Get out,” cries the man's wife.
“Get out of my house!”

The ugly duckling runs.
Suddenly he starts to fly.
The door is open.
He flies up into the sky.

He can fly! He can fly!
“I can fly!” says the ugly duckling.
And now the sun comes out. It is spring.

Then he sees a garden, a garden with a river.
“What a beautiful garden,” he says.
And he flies down.

He sees something. He sees the swans. He sees the three swans.
“Oh! They are beautiful,” he says. “I must speak to them.”

But he is afraid. He looks down at the water and he sees his face. He is not an ugly duckling any more. He is a beautiful swan, too.

It's true. It's true! He's not a duckling. He's not a duck. He's a swan. He's a swan, too.

Some children run down to the river. “Look mother,” they say. “A new swan! Look! Oh, look! Look at the new swan!”
“Yes,” she says. “Isn't he beautiful!”

The End

Friday, October 2, 2009

Basic English I

Basic English

Hello, my name is John. Hola, me llamo John.)
I am John. (Soy Juan.)
I am a teacher. (Soy profesor.)
We are teachers. (Somos profesores.)
You are students. (Sois alumnos.)
You are a student. (Eres/es estudiante.)
Where are you from? (¿De dónde eres?)
I am from Seattle in the United States of America. (Soy de Seattle en los Estados Unidos de América.)
I am American. (Soy americano.)
You are from Spain. (eres/sois de España.)
We are Spanish.
What is your name? (¿Cómo te llamas?)
What is his name? (¿Cómo se llama?)

To Be
I am (yo soy, estoy)
You are (tú eres, estás)
He/ she/ it (Él, ella, ello es /está)
We are (nosotros/as somos/estamos)
You are (vosotros/as sóis/estáis)
They are (ellos/as son /están).

I have two brothers. (Tengo dos hermanos)
You have a red car. (Tienes un coche rojo.)
He has five apples. (Él tiene 5 manzanas.)
We have many books. We have a lot of books. (Tenemos muchos libros.)
We have many friends. (Tenemos muchos amigos)
I have to go to work now. (Ahora tengo que ir al trabajo.)

To Have
I have (yo tengo)
You have (tú tienes)
He has (él tiene)
She has (ella tiene)
It has (ello tiene)
We have (nosotros/as tenemos)
You have (vosotros/as tenéis)
They have (ellos/as tienen)

Days of the Week (los días de la semana)
Monday-Lunes.
Tuesday-Martes.
Wednesday-Miércoles.
Thursday-Jueves.
Friday-Viernes.
Saturday-Sábado.
Sunday-Domingo.

Months of the Year (Meses del Año)
January-Enero.
February-Febrero.
March-Marzo.
April-Abril.
May-Mayo.
June-Junio.
July-Julio.
August-Agosto.
September-Septiembre.
October-October.
November-Noviembre.
December-Diciembre.

Seasons of the Year (las Estaciones del Año)
Spring-Primavera.
Summer-Verano.
Autumn/Fall-Otoño.
Winter-Invierno.

I do my homework every day at six o’clock. (Hago mis tareas todos los días a las seis.)
To Do
I do (yo hago)
You do (tú haces)
He does (él hace)
She does (ella hace)
It does (ello hace)
We do (Nosotros/as hacemos)
You do (Vosotros/as hacéis)
They do ( ellos/as hacen)

The Family

Father: Padre
Daddy o Dad: Papá, familiarmente.
Mother: madre
Mummy o Mum: Mamá, familiarmente.
Sister: Hermana.
Brother: Hermano.
Uncle: Tío
Aunt: Tía.
Grandfather: Abuelo.
Grandpa, Granny: Abuelo, familiarmente.
Grandmother: Abuela.
Grandma, Granny: Abuela, familiarmente.
Father-in-law: Padre político, suegro.
Mother-in-law: Madre política, suegra.
Sister-in-law: Hermana política, cuñada.
Brother-in-law: Hermano político, cuñado.
Son: Hijo.
Daughter: Hija.

He does not want to go to school. (Él no quiere ir a la escuela.)
Sam does not like green eggs and ham. (A Sam no le gustan los huevos y jamón verdes.)