Панова И.И., Карневская Е.Б., Мисуно Е.А. Tests Grammar, Listening, Reading. Тесты по грамматике, аудированию и чтению
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too, that there are certain situations where we are not in the front line. For example if there is a very violent
demonstration, then it is the male officers who keep the crowd back. We are given other jobs. We simply don't have
the strength to do the job. On the other hand, there are also many situations where the men are very glad to let us
take over. Often we are better than the men when there are problems with women — and specially children. If there
is any resistance to women police-officers, it comes from the older policemen. They remember the «good old days»
when a policeman was — a man! The younger officers are very glad to work with us. What is even more important,
I think, is the reaction of the public. They are always very positive. Women are good at defusing dangerous
situations. I mean, we are good at calming people down. There is still a lot of respect for women in general—for
example, some people think it is all right to hit a policeman, but they wouldn't dream of hitting a woman. In violent
situations we do not seem so aggressive as men, and this really helps. Mind you, if it comes to a fight, women
police-officers are highly trained!»
№9
As the train approached the seaside town where I was going to spend my holidays, I went into the corridor to stretch
my legs. I stayed there a short time, breathing in the fresh sea air and talking to one of the passengers, whom I had
met earlier on the station platform.
When I turned to go back to my seat, I happened to glance into the compartment next to mine. Sitting there was a
man who many years before had been my neighbour. He was a great talker, I remembered; it used to take hours to
get away from him once he began a conversation. I was not at all sorry when he went to live in another part of
London. We had not met since then, nor did I wish to meet him now, when my holiday was about to begin.
Luckily at that moment he was much too busy talking to the man opposite him to catch sight of me. I slipped back
into my compartment, took down my two suitcases and carried them to the far end of the corridor so as to be ready
to get off the train as soon as it stopped. The moment the train stopped, I called a porter, who in no time at all had
carried my luggage out of the station and found me a taxi. As I drove towards my small hotel on the edge of the
town, I breathed a deep sigh of relief at my narrow escape. There was little chance that I should run into my boring
ex-neighbour again.
When I reached the hotel, I went straight to my room and rested there until it was time for dinner. Then I went down
to the lounge and ordered a drink. I hadn't even begun to drink when an all too familiar voice greeted me. I had not
escaped from my tiresome neighbour after all! He grasped me warmly by the hand and insisted that we should share
a table in the dining-room. «This is a pleasant surprise,» he said. «I never expected to see you again after all these
years.»
№10
The party began just after nine. Mr. Wood, who lived in the flat below, sighed to himself as he heard the first signs:
people running up the stairs; the sound of excited voices as,the guests greeted one another; and the noise of loud
music. Luckily Mr. Wood had brought some work home from the office, which he did for a couple of hours, and
managed to ignore the party which was going on over his head. But by eleven o'clock he felt tired and was ready to
go to bed, though from his experience of previous parties he knew that it was useless trying to get to sleep. He
undressed and lay for a while on the bed, trying to read, but the noise from the room directly above his head did not
allow him to concentrate on what he was reading. He found himself reading the same page over and over again. He
then switched off the light and buried his head in the pillow, in a desperate effort to go to sleep. But there was no
way he could shut the noise. Finally, after what seemed hours, he switched on the light and looked at his watch: it
was just after midnight.
By now his patience was quite exhausted. He leapt out of bed and, putting a dressing-gown over his pyjamas,
marched up the stairs to his neighbour's flat. He rang the bell several times but the door remained closed. This made
him more angry. Just then one of the guests came out and went off down the stairs, leaving the door open. Mr. Wood
went in. In spite of his odd clothing, no one took any notice of him. Then he saw the owner of the flat and managed
to attract his attention. The man, whose name was Black, came across the room, smiling cheerfully, and before Mr.
Wood could open his mouth to complain, said: «My dear fellow, come in and join us. I know our parties must bother
you. I meant to send you an invitation.» Mr. Wood's anger vanished at once. «I'd better go and get properly
dressed,» he said. As Mr. Wood left the room, Black turned to one of the guests and said: «As soon as I set eyes on
him, I knew he'd come to make trouble. That's why I asked him to join us. Did you see how pleased he was? He
went off at once to get changed. What a pity the party's nearly over!»
№11
Tom was looking forward to his first journey by Tube, as the underground railway in London is called. He had heard
a great deal about it from his friends who had already been to England. They all advised him not to travel alone the
first time. But Tom is the kind of person who never listens to anyone's advice. It is not surprising, therefore, that his
first journey by Tube was not a great success.
Tom entered the station just after five o'clock in the afternoon. This is a bad time to travel in London, both by bus
and train, because crowds of people go home from work at this hour. He had to join a long queue of
people who were waiting for tickets. When at last his turn came, he had some difficulty in making the man
understand the name of the station he wanted to go to. The people in the queue behind him began to grumble
impatiently at the delay. However, he got the right ticket in the end and found the right platform. This was packed
with people. He did not manage to get on the first train, but he was able to move nearer the edge of the platform and
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was in a better position to get on the next one. When this came in, Tom was pushed forward on to the train by the
people behind him. The doors closed and the train moved off before he was able to get his breath back. He was
unable to see the names of the stations where the train stopped, but he had counted the number of stops so that he
knew exactly where to get off. His station was the sixth along the line. When the train reached the sixth station, Tom
got off, happy that his journey had been so easy. But he was alarmed to see that he had got off at a station that he
had never heard of! He did not know what to do. He explained his difficulty to a man who was standing on the
platform. With a look of amusement on his face the man told Tom that he had travelled on a train going in the wrong
direction.
№12
Michael didn't feel able to talk about the bullying to anyone. His mother would worry, he knew that. His sister had
her own life and he couldn't talk to her. And he was afraid of what the bullies might do to him if he told any of the
teachers. He should be able to deal with the situation on his own, he thought — and if he couldn't, well, that was his
problem.
He didn't even enjoy his lessons any more, because it was too hard to concentrate. As he sat in class each day, he
thought about what might happen after school and his mind went completely blank. And sure enough, two or three
times a week, the bullies were out there waiting for him.
«Well, now, Jenkins, what've you got for us today?» they shouted. He took the money from his pockets and gave it
to them without a word. Sometimes they still hit him, for the fun of it, but'usually they ran off laughing.
The day everything changed was the day before half-term. Michael had stayed late at school because he needed
some advice about an English project. The school grounds were empty by the time he left, but he stayed tense and
watchful on the short walk to the bus-stop.
There was only one other boy from the school at the bus-stop, and Michael stared at him in disbelief. He was in the
lowest class, so he was probably eleven years old, but he looked younger. His clothes were dirty and torn, and he
was crying quietly.
«Hey, what happened to you? Are you OK?» Michael asked, but he had a sick feeling in his stomach.
«These boys ... they said they'd hurt me if... if I didn't give them money,» the younger boy said. «And I haven't got
any money — only my bus pass...»
«Were there three of them?» Michael asked quickly. «They're from school, aren't they?»
The child looked at him with surprise and nodded. Tears dripped from his cheeks to the ground. Michael took a deep
breath.
«It happens to me too,» he said, «and there's only one way to stop it. We've got to tell someone. Come with me.»
He led the way back to the school, and found his English teacher. As Michael told his story, the boys could see
sympathy and anger in her face. When he finished, there was a short silence.
«Is this right, Ben?» she said to the younger boy. «Are you sure the bullies who hurt you are the same ones?»
«Yes,» he whispered. «The same ones.»
She looked at each of them in turn. «You can leave it to me now,» she said quietly. «I'll see the head first thing in
the morning. And don't worry, either of you. This won't happen again, I promise you.»
№13
More and more people these days get caught shop-lifting; that is, taking things from shops and not paying for them.
It is a big problem these days.
What actually happens if the shop-keeper thinks you have stolen something? The true story of Mrs. C. is a good
example.
Mrs. С went shopping twice a week. She shopped for her own family and for some old people who could not get to
the shops. She always went to the same supermarket. One day she met a friend in there. She had just chosen a piece
of cheese from the shelf. The two of them talked and walked round the shop together. Then when her friend went
out, Mrs. C. went with her. At once the shop-keeper caught her, and told her she had taken a piece of cheese without
paying.
Mrs. C. was shocked and while she was trying to explain what had happened outside the shop, people stopped to see
what was happening. Mrs. C. knew many of them and felt very ashamed. It looked as though she was a criminal!
She said she would pay for it at once. But the shop-keeper called the police. A police-car came to the shop and she
was taken away. When they got her to the police-station, she was questioned for three hours. After this she was
charged and was told she would have to go to court.
During the next week, Mrs. C. stayed inside her house in a state of shock. She drank black coffee and took pills all
the time. After only seven days, she had lost fourteen pounds in weight. The doctor saw her, and told her not no
fight in court. «Say you did it, and get it over,» he said. He was afraid that she would have a heart-attack.
In a way the story had a happy ending, because the judge listened to the story, and just told her to go home and
forget about it. She was free. But Mrs. C. is not the same woman. A whole year after this, she is still afraid to go out.
She will not go into shops. She is afraid of what people think about her.
№14
Mr. Gray travelled a lot on business. He sold machines of various kinds to fanners. It was not really a very exciting
job, but Mr. Gray had always been interested in farming, and he was quite satisfied with his life.
He had a big car, and usually enjoyed driving it long distances, but he Was quite satisfied to go by train sometimes
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too, especially when the-weather
was bad. He was a little frightened of driving in rain or snow, and it was less tiring to sit comfortably in a train and
look out of the window without being worried about how one was going to get to the next place.
One of Mr. Gray's problems was often where to stay when he reached some small place in the country. He did not
expect great comfort and wonderful food, but he found it annoying when he was given a cold room, and there was
no water or good food after a long and tiring day.
Late one winter evening, Mr. Gray arrived at a small railway station. The journey by train that day had not been at
all interesting, and Mr. Gray was cold and tired and hungry. He was looking forward to a simple but satisfying meal
by a brightly burning fire, and then a hot bath and comfortable bed.
While he was walking to the taxi rank, he said to a local man who was also walking there, «As this is my first visit
to this part of the country and I was in too much of a hurry to find out about hotels before I left home, I would very
much like to know how many you have here.»
The local man answered, «We have two.»
«And which of the two would you advise me to go to?» Mr. Gray asked then.
The local man scratched his head for a few moments and then answered, «Well, it's like this: whichever one you go
to, you'll be sorry you didn't go to the other.»
№15
Jim lived with his parents until he was twenty-one years old, and then he got a job in the office of a big factory in
another town, so he left home. He found a comfortable little flat which had two rooms, a small kitchen and a
bathroom, and he lived there on his own.
At first he cleaned it himself, but he did not want to have to go on doing this, so he determined to find someone else
to do it instead of him. He asked a lot of his fellow workers at the factory what they did about this, and at last one of
the men said, «Oh, Mrs. Roper comes and cleans my flat regularly. She washes the dishes, irons my shirts and keeps
the place neat and tidy and so on. I'll introduce you to her, if you
like. She's a charming old lady. She does her best, but she hasn't got much energy.»
«Well, you'd better ask her to come and see me, please,» Jim answered. So the next evening Mrs. Roper came to see
him, and she agreed with pleasure to come to his flat every morning for an hour.
After she had been working for Jim for two weeks, he looked at the mirror in his bedroom and thought, «That mirror
looks very dusty. Mrs. Roper's forgotten to clean it. I can write on it with my finger.» He wrote a message in the
dust: «I'm coughing whenever I breathe because everything in this room is very dusty.»
He came home at 7 o'clock that evening, and when he had eaten his supper, he went into his bedroom and looked at
the mirror. «That silly old woman still hasn't cleaned it!» he said to himself. «All it needs is a cloth!»
But then he bent down and saw a bottle in front of the mirror. «I didn't put that bottle there.» He thought. «Mrs.
Roper must have left it.» He picked the bottle up and looked at it carefully.
«She's written some words on it,» he said to himself. He read the words. They were: «Cough medicine.»
№16
George Robinson was ambitious but not very clever when he was at school, and he left when he was sixteen. At first
he did not know what to do, but then he tried selling cheap toys in the street, and it quickly became clear that he was
a clever businessman. Soon, without much struggle, he had a small shop of his own.
Before he was thirty he had quite a big factory for making toys, and had succeeded in making a considerable
fortune.
George had always been interested in local politics. He was elected to the town council when he was thirty-two, and
was such a busy and useful member of it that he rapidly became mayor.
Although he was very successful in international industry as well as in local government, George was still not a very
well-educated man, and as he was also a very busy one, he began to have the speeches he had to
make written for him by a special speechwriter. George never had any difficulties with him and got quite used to
trusting him. In the end he did not trouble even to look at what he was given until it was time to make the speech.
Then one day George had to make an important speech at a formal official ceremony marking the opening of a new
library. He had been away on urgent business for a week before this occasion, so he had had no time to read through
his speech at all.
When it was his turn to speak to the audience, he stood up on the stage, took his speech out of his pocket and began
to read it. He enjoyed jokes, and always asked his speechwriter to put a few good ones in each speech he wrote for
him, to put his audience in good temper. This time, sure enough, he came to the words, «And that reminds me of one
of my favourite stories».
George had actually never heard that story before, and when he looked at it before reading it aloud, he burst out
laughing and laughed so much that he fell off the platform on which he was standing and broke his arm.
№17
Johnny was three when he ran away from home for the first time. Somebody left the garden gate open. Johnny
wandered out, crossed some fields, and two hours later, arrived in the next village. He was just able to give his name
and address.
By the time he was seven, Johnny used to vanish from home two to three times a year. Sometimes he covered quite
long distances on foot. On other occasions he got on a bus or even a train, and simply sat there until someone asked
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for his ticket. Generally the police brought him home. «Why do you do it?» they used to ask. «You aren't unhappy at
home, are you?» «Of course not,» Johnny replied. «Then why?» «I just like seeing places,» Johnny told them.
Johnny continued to «see places» although everyone tried to stop him. His parents used to watch him closely, and so
did his teachers; but sooner or later Johnny managed to slip away. As he grew older, his
favourite trick was to hide on a long distance lorry. Sometimes he used to travel hundreds of miles before anyone
discovered him.
It is hardly surprising that eventually Johnny managed to get on board a plane. He was twelve at the time. It was a
cargo plane and, a few hours later, Johnny found himself in Cairo. How did he get on board? No one knows!
According to Johnny himself, it was easy: he just went into the airport, walked along some corridors and got on
board the nearest plane.
In spite of all this, Johnny did well at school. He enjoyed maths and languages and, perhaps not surprisingly, he was
especially good at geography. «What do you want to be when you grow up?» his teacher asked him. Johnny did not
take long to answer that question. «An explorer!» he answered. «But it's difficult to become an explorer in this
modern age,» they tried to tell him, «unless you go into space!» But it was no use: Johnny knew what he wanted!
Just before he left school, Johnny saw a notice in one of the daily papers. An expedition was about to go to Brazil to
travel up the Amazon. There were vacancies for three young people «willing to work hard and with a sense of
adventure.» Johnny applied... and, two months later, he was on his way to Brazil.
№18
Aunt Jane is now well over seventy, but she is still a great cinema-goer. The cinema in our town closed down years
ago and sometimes she has to travel twenty miles or more to see a good film. And once a month at least she goes up
to London to see the latest foreign films. Of course she could see most of these films on television, but the idea does
not attract her. «It isn't the same,» she says. «For one thing, the screen's too small. Besides, I like going to the
cinema!»
One thing has always puzzled us. Although Aunt Jane has lots of friends and always enjoys company, she always
goes to the cinema alone. We discovered the reason for this only recently — from mother. «It may surprise you to
learn that Aunt Jane wanted to be an actress when she was young,» she told us. «She used to wait outside film
studios all day,
just to appear in crowd scenes. Your aunt has probably appeared in dozens of films — as a face in the crowd at a
railway station or in the street! Sometimes she did not even know the name of the film they were making, so she
couldn't go to see herself at the cinema!
«All the time, of course, she was looking for a small part in a film. Her big chance came when they started to make a
film in our town. Jane managed to meet the director at a party, and he offered her a role as a shopkeeper. It really
was a very small part — she only had a few lines to say — but it was an important moment for Jane. Before the
great event, she rehearsed for days. In fact, she turned the sitting-room into a shop! We all had to help, going in and
out of the shop until she was word perfect. And on the actual day she was marvellous. The director congratulated
her. Jane thought that this was the beginning of her film career!
«Unfortunately, in the end, they did not include the shop scene in the film. But nobody told Jane! When the film first
appeared in London, she took all her friends to see it. And of course she wasn't in it! It was a terrible blow! She
stopped going to film studios and gave up the idea of becoming an actress. She still loves the cinema, as you all
know, but from that day she has always gone alone!»
№19
Andy Barton was in a bad mood. It was Friday, and at six o'clock his favourite programme Travel with us, was on
TV. Andy liked to get home in good time for that. But then, just as he was leaving the office a little early, a
customer rang up with a few complaints. The customer complained steadily for the next fifteen minutes! «I can still
get home in time if I hurry,» Andy told himself as he dashed out of the office. But then, as he drove off in his car, he
noticed that he was almost out of petrol. «I'll have to stop at Fenton's,» Andy thought. He hated Fenton's because it
was a self-service petrol station. «You do all the work yourself, but you pay the same for the petrol,» he used to
grumble.
But at Fenton's things went wrong again! The pump was not working properly and it took ages to get the petrol. It
was four minutes to six by
the time Andy jumped back into his car and drove off. But at two minutes past six he was sitting in front of the
television, watching Travel with us. He was on his way to Japan!
Then the phone rang. «Shall I answer it?» Andy thought. He tried to concentrate on Japan and forget the phone. But
it kept on ringing and finally he picked it up.
«Mr. Barton?» a voice said. «Fenton's Garage here.»
«Fenton's?» said Andy. «Why, I was at your place only a few minutes ago, getting some petrol. Did I leave
something behind or what?» «No, you didn't, Mr. Barton,» the voice went on. «That's just the trouble! You didn't
leave anything behind! You went off without paying for your petrol, you see! Now normally, when that happens, we
ring up the police. But luckily I recognised you because I live on the same street as you, and I knew it was a
mistake.»
«I'm really very sorry,» Andy said.
«Oh, that's all right, Mr. Baron. These things happen! But could you come round now and pay for your petrol? And
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please hurry! We close at half past six!»
№20
Patrick Reilly was the manager of a company that made washing powders, among other things. The company
employed several scientists, whose job was to find new and better kinds of products, including washing powders.
Patrick did not know very much about science himself, but he used to meet his scientists regularly. He always
enjoyed it and took a great interest in what they were doing.
One day one of them was in Patrick's office, talking about plans for the future, when he said to Patrick, «I suppose
you know Sir James White. He was my professor at the university where I studied, and now he's one of the world's
greatest and most honoured biologists.»
«Oh, yes, I know,» Patrick answered, «but I've never actually met him. What about him?»
«Well,» said the scientist, «he's discovered some new type of system that might be very useful to us for improving
our manufacture of soap powders. I read an article about it yesterday in one of the scientific journals I take every
month. You ought to meet him.»
«I'd like to,» Patrick answered. «What do you think of inviting him to dinner one evening and suggesting that we
might be able to offer him a job as an adviser?»
«I agree,» the scientist replied. «That would be an excellent decision.»
Patrick got his secretary to ring Professor White's office at the university to give him the invitation, and they
managed to find a date on which they would both be free for dinner.
«It'll be a small family affair,» Patrick said. «I propose to invite two of my scientific staff with their wives. One of
them was a student of yours. And I hope Lady White will be able to come too.»
«Thank you,» the professor answered, «I'm sure she'll be delighted to.»
Patrickhad a son of sixteen, who had finished his O-level examinations and was studying for his A-levels. While
everybody was having a drink before dinner, the boy chatted to the professor. «What do you do?» the boy asked.
«I study biology,» the professor answered.
«Oh?» the boy answered proudly. «Well, I finished biology last July.»
№21
Mr. Price, the antique dealer, lived alone in a small flat above his shop. Because of the many valuable articles which
he kept on the premises, he was always afraid that one night someone would break in and rob him. Years before,
when he had first come to live there, he had strong locks put on all the doors. In addition, he locked up most of his
valuable articles in a cupboard, which he had specially made for this purpose. But, in spite of these precautions, he
never felt safe, particularly when he had a lot of money in the flat after a good day's business.
One Saturday night, when he counted his money after closing the shop, he found that he had taken nearly two
thousand pounds that day. This was
an exceptionally large sum and the thought of keeping it in the house made him feel very nervous. He knew that it
would be better to take it to his son's house, where there was a small safe, but it was a foggy evening and his son
lived on the other side of town. In the end, he took the money with him to his bedroom, put it in the pocket of one of
his overcoats and locked the wardrobe door. He put the key under his pillow and went to bed.
Mr. Price lay awake for a long time, wondering if his money was really safe, and it was well after midnight before
he fell asleep. Almost immediately, or so it seemed, he was woken up by the loud ringing of the shop doorbell. He
sat up in bed. Could he have been dreaming? Surely, he thought, no one could want to see him at this hour of the
night. The doorbell rang again, echoing through the silent house. Once again the doorbell rang, more persistently
this time.
Mr. Price got out of bed and went across to the window. The fog had
i cleared slightly. He opened the window and looked out. He could just
! make out the shadowy figure of a man standing on the pavement below.
«What do you want?» Mr. Price called out in a nervous voice. The figure
stepped back until it was standing under the street lamps. It was a
policeman. «Sorry to disturb you, sir,» said the policeman, «but there is a
light on in your shop. I think you have forgotten to turn it off.»
№22
We were lucky that morning. The train was not very crowded and we managed to get a corner seat to ourselves in
one of those long open carriages. «I don't like this sort of carriage,» Mark said as he took out papers for our meeting,
«but at least you get a table to work on!»I fetched some coffee and biscuits from the restaurant car and we settled
down to work. People passed up and down the train, and once the ticket inspector came to look at our tickets. But,
apart from that, it was a peaceful journey.
«Good!» said Mark after an hour or so. «I think we've just about finished.» He began to put away his papers. «What
time is it?» he asked. «My watch has stopped.» «About nine-thirty, I reckon,» I said. «Hold on a moment. My watch
is here somewhere on the table.»
I looked under my own papers, and then on the floor, but there was no sign of my watch. It was not in my pockets,
either.
«You didn't put it in your bag, did you?» I asked Mark. «Along with your papers.» He checked, but the watch was
not there.
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«It's very odd,» I said. «I remember taking it off and putting it on the table when we started work. No one's been
near us except the ticket collector — and he didn't pick it up!»
«Someone came and cleared away the coffee cups,» Mark said. «I remember seeing a man with a big plastic bag.»
The man with the plastic bag came from the restaurant car, one of the passengers informed us. I went along there to
see him and I explained my problem.
«Are you sure?» the man asked. «Look, there's the bag - full of rubbish. I don't want to empty everything out if
you're not sure.»
«I can't be absolutely certain,» I said, «but my watch was on the table. I'll look in the bag myself if you like. It's a
very expensive watch!»
«Well, in that case, we'd better have a look, sir,» the man said and emptied everything out on the floor. There,
among the paper coffee cups, half-eaten biscuits and pieces of paper, lay my very valuable watch!.
«Phew!» I said. «I think I need another cup of coffee after that!»
«Sorry, sir,» the man snapped. «The restaurant car is closed. We're almost at London.»
№23
Wherever you are in Britain, you are never more than 120 kilometres from the sea. So perhaps it is not surprising
that the idea of the seaside holiday started here. The fashion began at the end of the eighteenth century and by the
1930s, twenty million more people used Britain's railways during August than in May or October. For a few weeks
every year the whole of Britain seemed to be at the seaside. There were enough beds in Blackpool's hotels and guest
houses for half a million holidaymakers.
But holiday fashions have changed a lot since the thirties. Today two-thirds of British holidaymakers spend their
holidays abroad. Package
holidays and charter flights have brought foreign travel within the range of most people's pockets and you will find
more Britons in Spain, Greece, Tunisia and the Canary Islands than in Blackpool. Some people, though, still remain
faithful to the traditional British seaside holiday: 78-year-old grandmother, Edna Parker has just been to Blackpool
for her annual summer holiday ... for the 58
th
time!
It all began back in 1934 when Edna, just married, spent her honeymoon in Blackpool with her husband, Cyril. They
liked it so much that they decided to return the following year. Edna became a mother, a grandmother and sadly, a
widow, but she still continued to choose Blackpool for her summer holidays. She always takes her holiday in the
first two weeks of June and over the years she has always enjoyed doing the same things. Every year she sits in her
deckchair in the same spot on the beach below the famous Blackpool Tower, takes a donkey-ride along the sands
and enjoys her favourite seaside lunch of fish, chips and peas.
This year, however, there was something different: the Lord Mayor held a special reception for Edna to celebrate her
58
th
Blackpool holiday. Will she be coming back for a 59
th
visit? Edna promised that she would. «I wouldn't go
anywhere else — and I'll be back next year. Blackpool has everything I want for a holiday — including the world's
best fish and chips. And the town has so many happy memories.»
If you put all of Edna's visits together, they add up to an amazing two years in the seaside resort. Until ten years ago
she had always stayed in the same guest house. She was disappointed when it closed down, but she did not go very
far away. She booked into another guest house in the same road!
№24
After a hasty breakfast in the station restaurant, Peter set about the task of finding a room where he could live for the
next few months. He knew exactly what he wanted: a room which was neither too small, nor so large that it would
be difficult to heat in winter. It had to be clean and
comfortable too but, above all, it had to be quiet, with a view that did not look directly onto the street. In the
newspaper he had brought from the bookstall there were very few advertisements for rooms to let. But, as he
glanced down the page, a notice in bold capital letters caught his eye. FLATS AND ROOMS TO LET
This seemed promising, so he made a note of the address and set off in search of the agency. He found it in a narrow
street just off the main road. The woman at the desk gave him a bright smile as he entered and, after he had
explained what sort of room he was looking for, gave him for the small fee of two pounds a list of about half a
dozen landladies who had rooms to let.
At the first house Peter tried, the landlady, who looked about seventy years old was so deaf that he had to shout to
make her hear. When at last she understood, she shook her head and told him that she no longer let rooms. At the
second house on the list all the rooms were taken. At the third the landlady was not at home. Peter was beginning to
feel less hopeful, when he noticed that there was a telephone number after one of the addresses on the list. To save
time, therefore, Peter rang up the landlady and enquired if she had a room to let. He was pleasantly relieved to hear
that she had one vacant. He hurried round to the house, which stood well back from the road in a pleasant avenue.
The room he was shown lay at the back of the house, overlooking a garden full of flowers and bushes. He noted, too,
with satisfaction, that there was a large table in the room, where he could spread out his books and work in comfort.
Furthermore, the rent was moderate. It was just what he was looking for. Without hesitation he told the landlady that
he would take the room, paid a week's rent in advance and went back to the station to get his luggage.
№25
It was dark in the attic, as Miss Manning had warned him. Weston found the small window in the roof and forced it
open, thus letting in more light. He could just make out the boxes which Miss Manning had told him about.
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«When my father died,» Miss Manning had said, «his large library was sold up. His papers, and some other
possessions of no great value, were stored in boxes and put up in the attic. They've been there ever since. I don't
suppose the room has been opened for over ten years.»
«What about his diaries?» asked Weston. «In one of his letters to a friend, Colonel Manning mentions that he kept a
diary.»
«I don't remember seeing any diaries,» said Miss Manning, with a puzzled look on her face. «Of course, he may
have destroyed them before his last illness. Otherwise they must be in those boxes in the attic.»
«I see,» murmured Weston. «In that case, will you allow me to examine those boxes? If I can find the diaries, I'll be
able to write a much more complete account of your father's life.»
«Certainly you may,» said Miss Manning. «You can't imagine how thrilled I am that anyone would want to write a
book about father. I would have taken more care of his papers if I had known.»
After searching through a number of drawers, Miss Manning found the key to the attic.
«You won't find it easy to see up there,» she said as she handed him the key. «There's a small window in the roof,
but I expect that it will be too dirty to see through.»
There were about a dozen boxes in all. Weston did not know where to begin. He opened the first one, then another,
but found nothing that looked like diaries. Then he decided to try the largest box. It was full of papers. As he turned
these over, a bundle of exercise books, tied together with string, caught his eye. On the cover of the top one were
written the words «DIARY, 1935-36».
№26
Helen packed a small suitcase, said good-bye to her mother and
hurried out of the house to catch the bus to the station. There was no
one else waiting at the bus-stop, so it looked as if a bus had just left.
Helen looked at her watch anxiously: it was already two o'clock. Her
. train left at two-thirty, and since it would take at least twenty minutes
to reach the station, she did not have much time to spare, even if a bus came along at once.
Just then a taxi came slowly down the road. Helen knew that the fare to the station was at least two pounds, which
was more than she could afford; but she quickly made up her mind that it would be well worth the extra expense in
order to be sure of catching her train. So she stopped the taxi and got in. She told the driver that she had to catch a
train which left at half past two. The man nodded and said that he would take a short cut to get her to the station in
good time.
All went well until, just as they were coming out of a side-street into the main road that led to the station, the taxi
ran into a car. There was a loud crash and Helen was thrown forward so violently that she hit her head on the front
seat. Both drivers got out and began shouting at each other. Helen got out as well, to ask them to stop quarrelling,
but neither of them took any notice of her at all.
Helen was quite sure that she was going to miss her train, although she was not very far from the station. She was
wondering what to do when a bus came into sight, going in the direction of the station. The bus-stop was not far off,
so Helen got her suitcase out of the taxi and ran towards the bus, which had stopped to let some passengers get off.
The bus conductor saw her running and did not ring the bell for the bus to start until she had got on. Helen reached
the station just in time and managed to catch her train after all. But if she had waited for the taxi driver to stop
arguing, she probably would have missed it.
№27
Nick was bored with life. Every day was exactly the same. He got up at exactly the same time; he caught the same
bus to work; he did the same things in the office; he talked to the same people; he came home at the same time; he
watched the same programmes on television — and he went to bed at the same time!
«What I need is a little adventure!» Nick thought as he waited at the bus-stop one morning. Nick's «little adventure»
happened sooner than he expected!
While he was on the bus, reading his newspaper (the same one that jje read every morning), the man sitting next to
him suddenly pushed a large brown envelope into his hands. «Here, take this!» he muttered. Then he stood up and
got off the bus before Nick could say a word.
Nick sat there, holding the envelope. It felt heavy. There were papers inside, or money perhaps. «I'd better hand it
over to the police,» he thought. There was a police-station close to his office. But, as he got off the bus, a man
approached him. He was obviously waiting for something. «He wants the envelope,» Nick thought. Nick began to
walk quickly—and the man hurried after him. Nick started to run — and the man began to run too. But then, just
before he got to the police station, Nick managed to lose the man in the crowds. When he entered the police station,
the man was no longer in sight.
Inside the police-station, Nick handed over the envelope to the inspector in charge. The inspector opened it. The
envelope was full of money —-false money. «Obviously the man made a mistake,» the inspector said. «He thought
you were one of the gang! Well, congratulations!»
Nick felt like a hero. He could already see his name in all the papers. He could imagine an interview on television!
«However,» the inspector went on, interrupting Nick's day-dreams, «I'm afraid I must ask you to keep quiet about all
this. We're trying to catch some very clever thieves — and we don't want them to know that we have some of the
money. So you mustn't say a word to anyone — not even your boss! Sorry!»
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«So that's that!» Nick said to himself on his way to the office. He was over an hour late. «I' ve had my little
adventure... but I can't tell anyone about it, so what's the point? I've even got to make up an excuse for the boss!»
№28
We first became aware that something unusual was happening when one of the ship's officers came up to the Chief
Engineer, who sat at our table, and spoke to him in a low voice. The Chief Engineer at once stood up and with a
brief excuse, which told us nothing, left the dining-room. At first we thought that there had been an accident or that
a fire
had broken out on board ship, but soon the word went round that a man had been seen floating in the sea. Then we
noticed that the ship had slowed down and was beginning to turn round, with rather a violent motion. Some of the
passengers did not wait to finish their meal, but at once rushed up on deck. Others crowded round the portholes,
making it impossible for us to eat in comfort. There was such confusion in the dining-room that we decided to join
those who had gone up on deck.
There we learnt that one of the crew had seen a man in the sea some distance from the ship. He had informed the
captain, who at once ordered the ship to be turned round. We were now only two hundred yards or so from the man,
and a lifeboat had already been lowered into the sea. In it there were four sailors, who were sitting ready at the oars,
an officer and the ship's doctor. The officer shouted an order and the sailors began to row away from the ship. By
looking in the same direction as the boat was going, we were able to make out the position of the man in the water.
He was clinging to a large piece of wood.
At last, after what seemed to us an age, the lifeboat reached the man and two of the sailors pulled him on board. This
was not at all easy, for the sea was rather rough. Then the sailors began to row back to the ship again. The lifeboat
was raised out of the water and the rescued man, wrapped in a blanket, was helped out on to the deck. Leaning on
the arm of the ship's doctor, but still able to walk in spite of his terrible experience, he was led off to the ship's
hospital. As he passed along the deck, everyone cheered loudly.
№29
Helen was a very successful business woman. She had always liked nice clothes, and when she left school she had
gone and worked in a shop which sold them, not far from her home. After a few experiments she showed that she
was very successful at designing the sorts of things that women want to buy, so after a few years the owner of the
shop, who was an oldish lady, offered to make her a partner.
Helen was very pleased, of course, and when the old lady retired,
Helen bought her share and became the sole owner of the shop. Now she had her independence.
Ever since she had started in the shop she had had to travel around to see what attractive things her rivals in the
clothes trade were producing, to attend fashion shows and so on. She had always stayed at small cheap hotels,
because she dared not to spend too much money when she was saving up to buy a shop of her own.
But when at last she became the owner of the shop, and it was making good profits, she found that she had plenty of
money, and she felt she should now stay in the best hotels whenever she travelled.
So when she had to go to the next fashion show, which was in Rome, she stayed at a very good hotel. She had a nice
big room with beautiful furniture in which she could entertain customers, and there were also fine public rooms
where she could, to her great pride, hold small fashion shows of her own. The room service was excellent, and so
was the dining-room, which had a band every evening for dancing. Helen had never before dared to stay in such a
splendid place.
She could see from the bills she signed for everything that the prices in the hotel were high, but she was still rather
surprised when, just before she left, she was given a bill of several pages, written on beautiful headed paper.
She checked the bill carefully, and was happy with everything except the last line, which said «Paper ... L 1800»,
which was about 75p in British money. She could not remember having had any paper from the hotel, so she thought
she should go to the cashier and ask him about it.
«That, madam,» said the cashier, «is for the paper your bill is written on.»
№30
I left my friend's house shortly after seven. It was still too early for me to have my evening meal, so I walked along
the seafront for about an hour until I began to feel hungry. By that time I was not far from a favourite restaurant of
mine, where I often went to eat two or three times a week. I knew the owner well and frequently complimented him
on his excellent cooking.
I went into the restaurant, which was already crowded, and ordered my meal. While I was waiting for the soup to
arrive, I looked around to see if I knew anyone in the restaurant. It was then that I noticed that a man sitting at a
corner table near the door kept glancing in my direction as if he knew me. I certainly did not know him, for I never
forget a face' The man had a newspaper open in front of him, which he was pretending to read, though all the while I
could see that he was keeping an eye on me. When the waiter brought my soup, the man was clearly puzzled by the
familiar way in which the waiter and I addressed each other. He became even more puzzled as time went on and it
grew more and more obvious that I was well known in the restaurant. Eventually he got up and went into the
kitchen. After a few minutes he came out again, paid his bill and left without another glance in my direction.
When I had finished and was about to pay my bill, I called the owner of the restaurant over and asked him what the
man had wanted. The owner was a little embarrassed by my question and at first he did not want to tell me. I
insisted. «Well,» he said, «that man was a detective.» «Really?» I said, considerably surprised. «He was certainly
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very interested in me. But why?» «He followed you here because he thought you were a man he was looking for,»
the owner of the restaurant said. «When he came into the kitchen, he showed me a photograph of the wanted man.
He certainly looked like you! Of course, since we know you here, I was able to convince him that he had made a
mistake.» «It's lucky I came to a restaurant where I am known,» I said, «otherwise I might have been arrested!»
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