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New Flight

• • • • • •

• • • • • Textbook Workbook Grammar Cd Teacher’s Book Eget nettsted http://newflight.cappelen.no

New Flight Extra

Textbook Workbook Cd Teacher’s Book Eget nettsted http://newflightextra.cappelen.no

textbook

ISBN 978-82-02-26725-4

www.cappelen.no

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Bromseth/Wigdahl

Cappelens engelskverk for ungdomstrinnet



Berit Haugnes Bromseth • Lisbeth Wigdahl

New FLIGHT 3 TEXTBOOK


© J.W. Cappelens Forlag AS, Oslo 2007 Materialet i denne publikasjonen er omfattet av åndsverklovens bestemmelser. Uten særskilt avtale med Cappelen Damm AS er enhver eksemplarframstilling og tilgjengeliggjøring bare tillatt i den utstrekning det er hjemlet i lov eller tillatt gjennom avtale med Kopinor, interesseorgan for rettighetshavere til åndsverk. Utnyttelse i strid med lov eller avtale kan medføre erstatningsansvar og inndragning, og kan straffes med bøter eller fengsel. New Flight 1–3 følger læreplanene for Kunnskapsløftet i faget engelsk og er lagd til bruk på grunnskolens ungdomstrinn. Grafisk formgiver: Mette Lund Damsleth Omslagsdesign: Séan Brewer Omslagsbilde: Scanpix Illustratør: Cecilie Okada Bilderedaktør: Monica Walle / Una Thoresen Dimola Forlagsredaktør: Hege Rødahl Scarpellino Sats: Ellipse AS Repro: RenessanseMedia AS Trykk/innbinding: Livonia Print Sia, Latvia 2010 Utgave 1 Opplag 4 ISBN 978-82-02-26725-4 www.cappelendamm.no http://newflight.cappelendamm.no


CONTENTS p. 7

Chapter 1 Say you’ll be there!

A-text: What is friendship all about? p. 10 B-text: Love, oh love! p. 16 C-text: Rainbow boys p. 21 D-text: Romeo and Juliet p. 27 p. 39

Chapter 2 It’s a mystery to me

A-text: The tower of London; the most haunted place in Britain? p. 42 B-text: An unsolved mystery: “Jack the Ripper” p. 45 C-text: Ghost walk p. 50 D-text: The open window p. 58 p. 65

Chapter 3 On the edge

A-text: King of the Hill p. 68 B-text: Boot camps for bad boys? p. 72 C-text: Go ask Alice p. 76 D-text: The doomed expedition p. 84 p. 93

Chapter 4 The British Isles

A-text: Going north to bonnie Scotland p. 96 B-text: Fionn and the Scottish giant p. 101 C-text: Is Northern Ireland finally winning the peace? p. 106 D-text: David Copperfield p. 114


p. 119

Chapter 5 A wonderful world – for how long?

A-text: Rosemary’s prayer p. 122 B-text: Global warming – causes and effects p. 125 C-text: Can I help you, dear planet? p. 129 D-text: A terrible decision p. 136 p. 143

Chapter 6 Our inner and outer selves

A-text: Christopher’s dream p. 146 B-text: A sad visit p. 149 C-text: Today’s protest is tomorrow’s trend p. 157 D-text: A Day’s Wait p. 163 p. 169

Chapter 7 All work and no play?

A-text: Visiting the world of work p. 172 B-text: All work or all play? p. 178 C-text: Catch me if you can! p. 182 D-text: Pygmalion p. 188 p. 199

Chapter 8 English spoken here!

A-text: Canada – essential facts and trivia p. 202 B-text: How the camel got his hump p. 208 C-text: The last British territories – exciting islands p. 212 D-text: And the winner is … English! p. 220

Glossary p. 229

Wordlist p. 241 Key to phonetic symbols p. 253


Welcome to New Flight 3! Have a look at your new and last New Flight Textbook – hopefully you will find many interesting and exciting texts in it. New Flight 3 Textbook has 8 different chapters, and each chapter has a theme: love and friendship, the British Isles, the environment, careers and others. Maybe you will work with some of these themes in other subjects too, like Norwegian, Geography, Social Studies, Science etc. All of the chapters have texts numbered A, B, C and D. You may think that some of them look a bit difficult, but not all pupils need to read all the texts. Also, some of the texts can be read in class simply for your pleasure and information. There are two headings in front of each chapter: Culture and Literature. Culture means that you will learn different things about life in English-speaking countries, for example about the history of Northern Ireland, Robert F. Scott’s expedition to the South Pole, life in Canada and so on. You will learn about various themes related to most of the English-speaking world. Literature means the different genres or types of literature that you will find in each chapter. You will for example find a prayer, an article, interviews, an excerpt from a novel and other genres in chapter 5. This year you will also be reading texts by several classic authors, like William Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Robert Burns, Ernest Hemingway, George Bernhard Shaw and others. At the back of the book there is a glossary for each chapter and an alphabetical wordlist, but you may need to look up other words – so keep your dictionary handy. We hope New Flight 3 Textbook will help you understand, speak and read English better – and have fun at the same time!

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Chapter

1

Say you’ll be there!

In this chapter: Culture

Literature

• Old superstitions connected with love and romance • William Shakespeare and his time • The story of Romeo and Juliet • Roy Lichtenstein and Pop Art

• • • • • • • •

Entries from a diary Article Excerpt from a novel Play Poem Songs Comic strips Jokes and riddles


Dear Diary, I must have the best friends in the world! Last night, when I was crying my heart out, convinced that I would never be able to face that grey old school again, they turned up at my house. They … What did these friends say and do to become the “best friends in the world”?

Girl of my dreams, where are you? I’m tall and slim, with dark hair and brown eyes. I have a good job and a happy life, but I long for somebody to share my life with. I’m not too fond of late nights and partying, but I like to … Will this ad get him a girlfriend?

Note to self I will never marry or have children. I don’t need anybody; I’m strong enough to be my own best friend. Love – hah! Friends – hah! Is it possible to go through life without forming close relationships?

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Friends

I fear it’s very wrong of me, And yet I must admit, When someone offers friendship I want the whole of it. I don’t want everybody else To share my friends with me. At least, I want one special one, Who, indisputably,

Likes me much more than all the rest, Who’s always on my side, Who never cares what others say, Who lets me come and hide Within his shadow, in his house – It doesn’t matter where – Who lets me simply be myself, Who’s always, always there. Elizabeth Jennings

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A

What do you think about when you hear the word “friend”? What is a good friend like? Do you have different kinds of friends? Felicia thought she had friends, but then again,

What is friendship all about? 8 September Dear Diary, School started again today. Back to the old grind … It wasn’t that bad, really. (No loads of homework yet!) Sarah and Julie were late for school as usual and waltzed into the classroom arm in arm, giggling like two fourteen-year-olds. Mr Peters was quite annoyed and gave them the old talk about rules and regulations – for the umpteenth time. In other words, we sort of started where we left off a couple of months ago. People haven’t really changed much (I probably haven’t either). Robert has grown a few inches over the summer, Debbie has had a hair-cut and William will soon have to start shaving, but apart from that, we’re pretty much the same bunch of average-looking, average-performing teenagers. Mr Peters made us play this silly game of thinking up reasons why it feels good to start school again. After Sally had said, “Because we get to see all our friends again” and David had said, “Because of the breaks”, nobody could come up with more reasons, and Mr Peters had to add the learning-new-stuff-part himself. I walked home with Sally and Debbie. We talked a lot, mostly about what we had done during our holidays. (And about boys and clothes, of course!) Sal and Deb are fun to be with, and I suppose I could say they are friends of mine. Still, I can’t talk to them like I talk to you, dear Diary. They don’t know my deepest thoughts and feelings like you do, and somehow I doubt they would be interested. I sometimes wish there was someone I could talk to, I mean really talk, not only chat about day-to-day things. What’s wrong with me? Am I expecting too much from my friends? Felicia

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10 September Dear Diary, We went down to Lake Somer today to study Life in water, as our project is called. It was more interesting than I had thought it would be, actually. I worked with Robert, and – wow! – what he knows about these things! I’ve never really known Robert very well. He’s always been “the short nerd” to all of us, and I suppose I’ve never bothered finding out more about him. We talked quite a lot today; not only about the project, but also about life in general, people, things happening in the world – all sorts of things. He’s a very nice bloke, once you get to know him! Felicia 13 September Dear Diary, Saturday at last! The first week of school must have contained more than five days? It feels like a month at least! Mr Peters says we’ll appreciate weekends more now that we’re back at school. Well, I think I could have forced myself into liking weekends anyhow … Sal and Deb and I went down to the Pentagon to look for some bargains. Most shops still have sales going on, and we all felt we deserved a new sweater or a pair of jeans after the ordeal of the first week at school! We ran into Robert in the shopping centre, and we chatted for a while. We’ve been talking off and on lately, since we’re doing some work together. After he’d left, Debbie asked me if I was in love with Robert. Why do people think you’re in love with a boy just because you like him as a person? I told her and Sal we were just friends and explained how easily I could talk to him about everything, so they didn’t say anything more. The looks on their faces said more, though. I don’t think they quite believed me, and that hurts. I get angry just thinking about it, so I won’t! Felicia 14 September Dear Diary, What a stupid day! A lot of it was nice, but it was stupid all the same. Robert came over to our house with some papers for the project, and

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we went down to Burger King for a snack. While we were there, Sarah and Julie came in, giggling as always, and when they saw us sitting there, they made funny faces and some daft remarks about us. I felt awful about it, and I’m sure Robert did too, even if he just laughed at the time. Stupid, stupid, stupid!!! Felicia 15 September Dear Diary, I’m so embarrassed. How could I ever think Sally and Debbie were my friends? I mean, I half-way expected Sarah and Julie to act foolishly today (what they actually did, was to make kissing sounds at Robert and me – childish, or what?), but I never expected Sally and Debbie to laugh and follow up on it. They even told the class that Robert and I had such a great relationship, being able to talk about anything, and then they laughed again. And they were supposed to be friends? It was awful, but I finally got through the day and escaped home. I’m seriously considering running away to Greenland or something … I’m not sure I want to be friends with anyone any more! Felicia

Let’s talk!

Work with words

1 What does Felicia think about her classmates on the first day of school? 2 How does she feel about her friends? 3 What do you know about Robert? 4 Is it possible for a boy and a girl to be “just friends”, even very close friends? 5 How do you handle a situation like the one Felicia experienced at school on 15 September? 6 Could boys have acted in this way towards another boy?

1 Explain these phrases in English: a Back to the old grind b The umpteenth time c We’ve been talking off and on lately 2 Find as many synonyms as you can for these words from the text: a annoyed b talk c bloke d angry e daft f awful

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That’s What Friends Are For

And I never thought I’d feel this way And as far as I’m concerned I’m glad I got the chance to say That I do believe I love you And if I should ever go away Well, then close your eyes and try To feel the way we do today And then if you can remember Keep smiling, keep shining, Knowing you can always count on me For sure That’s what friends are for For good times and bad times I’ll be on your side forever more That’s what friends are for

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I never thought I’d feel this way Well you came and opened me And now there’s so much more I see And so, by the way, I thank you

Did you hear about the unlucky princess? She kissed a handsome prince and he turned into a frog …

And then for the times when we’re apart Well, then close your eyes and know These words are coming from my heart And then if you can remember Keep smiling, keep shining Knowing you can always count on me For sure That’s what friends are for In good times and bad times I’ll be on your side forever more That’s what friends are for

Two Martians landed on Earth and they both fell in love with the same traffic light. – I saw her first, proclaimed one. – So what? said the other. – I’m the one she winked at!

Carole Bayer Sager and Burt Bacharach

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B

Love, oh love! Have you ever pulled petals off a daisy to see if a special person loved you or not? Have you written a certain name inside your notebook or sent a romantic SMS to somebody? Well, haven’t we all… We seem to have grown up with a certain feeling that true and everlasting love is the ultimate happiness in life, just like generations before us have. For ages children have played skipping games to find the name of their future partner: Blackberry, strawberry, gooseberry tart, Tell me the name of my sweetheart! A, B, C, D, E … In the old days, there were many ways of getting to know something about your romantic future. If you cut your nails on a Saturday, for instance, you would see your true love the day after. Sneezing on a Saturday had the same effect, and if you were lucky enough to sneeze before breakfast, you would even see your sweetheart before the day was over! If you were a girl, you could count nine stars on nine successive nights. The first man who shook your hand after that, would bear the same name as your future husband. Another way of finding out who you were going to marry, was to play the “dumb cake game”, which both girls and boys did. In absolute silence, the participants made a cake from flour, salt and egg; baked it, ate part of it and put another bit under their pillows. They would then dream of Mr or Miss Right the same night. You had to be very careful not to say even one little word, or the magic powers would not work! Love predictions worked better on certain days of the year, like Midsummer Eve, St John the Baptist’s Day, or Halloween, Christmas Eve, New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s Day. Even on these dates divinations didn’t always come true, but young people had a lot of fun trying them out. Being in love doesn’t always mean you are loved back instantly. One sometimes has to work hard to gain eternal happiness! Don’t worry, though, here are several old remedies and recipes to help you out:

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For girls: • Put leaves from red roses, white roses and forget-me-nots into 385 drops of water. Boil the mixture for the sixteenth part of an hour. Put three drops of this love potion into a drink, serve it to your boyfriend-to-be and be sure he swallows it. Voilà, he falls in love with you! • Swallow a raw chicken heart while concentrating all your thoughts around the person you love. This must be a strong remedy, since he will not only fall in love, he will even propose marriage … For boys: • Hide the tongue of a turtle dove in the house of the girl. No more loneliness for you!

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• Get hold of some of your sweetheart’s hair, wear it inside your shoe for a few days and then bury it under your doorstep. She will be with you forever. (If you want to break up with her, does it help to dig up the hair and bury it in somebody else’s garden? Just wondering!) • Prick your finger and sprinkle some of the blood on a candy. Offer the girl the sweet and be sure she eats it, blood and all. You are now tied together. • Prick an orange with a needle. Sleep with the orange in your armpit, then give it to the girl and persuade her to eat it. Love is in the air! Who said romance was dead … Good luck, young lovers! And, by the way, if you are to be married, be sure an elephant crosses your path on the Big Day!

Let’s talk!

Work with words

1 What was the “dumb cake game”? 2 Which of these divinations do you think it could be fun to try? 3 Do you know of any other “recipes” or divinations used in the old days or in our time? 4 Do you know any skipping rhymes connected with love and romance? 5 Who are more occupied with love and romance, boys or girls?

1 How many words connected with love can you find in the text? 2 What is the difference between “to love” and “to be in love”? 3 How can you say this in a different way: a the ultimate happiness b nine successive nights c love predictions d love potions

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Wedding superstitions

• Meeting an elephant on the wedding morning is a lucky omen. • Meeting a chimney sweep, especially one covered in soot, is a very fortunate omen. • In Great Britain it is a good omen to see a black cat on your wedding day, while in the USA and Canada it has to be a white cat. • Seeing a pig or a funeral party is a very unfortunate omen! • To ensure the marriage will be a happy one, the bride must not wear pearls (they symbolise tears) and the groom must not drop his hat. • Horseshoes will protect your happiness, since they keep the Devil away.

Some original weddings, American style:

California, 1934: The first nude wedding. The couple and their six attendants were stark naked, while the bishop marrying them was wearing a goatskin to preserve his modesty … Marriage on water skis: The vicar was placed in the speedboat, while the happy couple and their attendants were skiing. The vows were interrupted twice when the flower girl fell. Marriage on horseback: Everything went fine until the bride fell off her horse because it was scared by the confetti being thrown around. Other ideas that have been tried out: Under-water weddings, marriages in hot-air balloons, on roller-skates and while sky-diving.

Say you‘ll be there!

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Roy Lichtenstein (1923–1997)

The American artist Roy Lichtenstein based many of his paintings on comic book drawings. Such paintings are labelled Pop Art since the artists used the popular culture of their time as inspiration for their work. In this way, they were trying to bring art closer to people’s real lives. The Kiss V from 1964 by Roy Lichtenstein reflects the stereotype drawings of the many romantic comic books of the time. What can you say about the appearance of the man and woman in the painting? Is this what the average person looks like? What emotions does the picture reveal? Does it tell us anything about the concept of love? Roy Lichtenstein: The Kiss V, 1964

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When Cupid shoots his little arrows at somebody, hearts start beating faster and knees become wobbly. And he does not ask about race, age or gender. In this text, Cupid aims at Kyle Meeks and Jason Carrillo, two teenage boys. Kyle is gay, while Jason is still not quite sure about his own sexuality. One evening they agree to go to the cinema.

C

Rainbow boys Kyle shuffled into the theater juggling a load of popcorn and drinks. “Here’s your Coke. Want some popcorn?” When Jason reached into the bucket, his thumb accidentally brushed Kyle’s. The touch of skin made him a little uneasy. It was as if a little zap of electricity had sparked through his body. He tried to ignore it, but each time their fingers bumped, he felt himself grow more excited, and when they reached the bottom of the bucket, he felt disappointed. The lights dimmed, and Kyle pulled a wad of napkins from his pocket and handed some to Jason. Jason wiped the salt and butter from his fingers and started to lay his hand on the armrest between himself and Kyle, but stopped short. Kyle’s hand was already there. Jason straightened his back. Kyle better not try anything funny. They were just friends. Nothing else. Just friends. The film opened with a barrage of machine-gun fire. Jason tried to focus on the movie, but Kyle’s hand irritated him, the way it hung out on the armrest. Jason wanted to lay his own hand down. If someone passed by and saw their hands together … What did he care what anyone thought? He had just as much right to use the armrest. Something was wrong when a guy couldn’t simply lay his hand beside another guy’s without someone thinking he was queer. It didn’t mean anything. Besides, superpolite Kyle would probably realize he was monopolizing the armrest and pull his hand away. Jason took a deep breath and quickly glanced around the dark theater. No one was watching them. He leisurely extended his arms out in front of him, as though stretching. Then he raised his arm into the air, intending to reach over casually and lay his hand on the

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armrest beside Kyle’s. In the process, Jason, star athlete, miscalculated the trajectory and boxed Kyle squarely in the ribs. Kyle winced and said, “Oooh, sorry,” and removed his hand from the armrest. Jason felt like a world-class klutz. He slunk down, wanting to crawl beneath the seat. “My fault,” he whispered. At least the armrest was free now. He placed his hand on the soft, warm cushion and began to relax. But not for long. Kyle raised his arm and rested his own hand back on the armrest, once again brushing Jason’s skin. Jason’s blood raced in his arteries. He held his breath, staring fixedly at the screen, where the hero blasted some red-haired guy with a flamethrower. Maybe Kyle thinks I want to hold hands, Jason thought. Jason tried to clear his head, but the current of electricity buzzing up from Kyle’s hand, making the hair on his arms stand at attention, wasn’t helping. Maybe Kyle just wanted to share the armrest. Even if he did want to hold hands, he would be too shy to do so. It wasn’t going to happen unless Jason took the initiative himself. That was a weird thought. It lurked in front of him, like someone’s fat head blocking the movie screen. What if he did hold Kyle’s hand? Yeah, and what if somebody saw them and yelled for the theater manager? The manager would surely phone his house. End of life. Of course, he could deny everything; say he was simply stretching his fingers. What was the big deal? One at a time, his fingers stretched out from their resting place. They paused in midair. Then they gently came to rest across the back of Kyle’s hand. He held his breath, expecting Kyle to do something – protest or stop him or something. But Kyle didn’t move. Jason’s heart thundered like cannon fire. Sweat ran down his forehead. Kyle had to realize what was happening. He was a little goofy, but he wasn’t a zero. Was he being polite? Maybe his arm was asleep. Jason glanced around the theater. His pulse quickened. The longer his hand stayed there, the more significant the fact became, the more difficult it would be to explain away. He should remove his hand now. Do it. Now. But Kyle’s hand beneath his own excited him too much. He hadn’t expected the skin to feel so tender. The raised veins along the back felt soft and warm.

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Suddenly the hand shifted, and Kyle’s wrist slowly turned beneath Jason’s until the two boys’ hands touched palm to palm. There was no mistaking Kyle’s hand for an armrest now. On-screen a mustached guy hung from a cliff. Jason breathed rapidly and heavily. His mind was a whirlwind, while beside him his hand took on a life of its own. Slowly one finger after another fell between Kyle’s fingers, until all intertwined. This was surely the climax of his life. Disaster was certain to follow, but he was ready to die happy. Three rows ahead of him, a man huddled closer to his date. Onscreen the hero made love to some mysterious babe on the roof of a hovercraft speeding across the water. Jason turned to look at Kyle. At the exact moment Kyle turned to Jason. The light from the movie screen flickered across Kyle’s glasses. His eyes were bright and yearning, his mouth slack, his lips glistening in the screen light. Jason wanted to kiss him. He could practically taste Kyle’s sweet, buttery breath; feel the tenderness of Kyle’s lips.

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Something moved in front of them. A man was walking up the aisle. Shit! Jason yanked his fingers from Kyle’s hand. He sat up stiffly against the back of his chair and fixed his eyes on the screen, wanting to kill himself. But the man passed without taking notice of them. Jason sighed deeply … once more wanting to live. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and swore in his mind he would never do anything so stupid again. “Are you okay?” Kyle whispered. “Yeah, I’m okay,” Jason mumbled. He tried to concentrate on the rest of the dumb movie but had no idea why the hero tossed the woman he’d made love to off the side of the boat. Several times Kyle turned to look at him, but no matter how much Jason wanted to look back, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He kept his hands safely folded in his lap. Alex Sanchez

Let’s talk!

Work with words

1 Find examples in the text that illustrate how Jason felt about Kyle. 2 It was not easy to be openly homosexual at Jason and Kyle’s school. Why is a person’s sexuality such a big deal to some people, do you think? Isn’t the point falling in love, not with whom? Have a discussion in your group.

This text is written in American English. How would you write this in British English? a Kyle shuffled into the theater b Jason tried to focus on the movie c Jason felt like a world-class klutz d On-screen a mustached guy hung from a cliff e He tried to concentrate on the rest of the dumb film

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Can’t Buy Me Love Can’t buy me love, love, Can’t buy me love. I’ll buy you a diamond ring my friend, If it makes you feel alright, I’ll buy you anything my friend, If it makes you feel alright, For I don’t care too much for money, For money can’t buy me love. I’ll give you all I’ve got to give, If you say you love me too, I may not have a lot to give, But what I’ve got I’ll give to you, For I don’t care too much for money. For money can’t buy me love. Can’t buy me love, ev’rybody tells me so,

Can’t buy me love, no, no, no, no. Say you don’t want no diamond ring, And I’ll be satisfied, Tell me that you want the kind of things, That money just can’t buy, For I don’t care too much for money. For money can’t buy me love. Can’t buy me love, ev’rybody tells me so, Can’t buy me love, no, no, no, no. Can’t buy me love, love, Can’t buy me love. Lennon/McCartney

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Love and romance have always been popular themes with authors. The story about Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare is world-famous and has been read, played and watched by millions of people. Shakespeare was inspired by a poem from his own time when he wrote the play, but the plot itself – two young lovers who are secretly married and then tragically separated – is a very old one. On the other hand, Shakespeare’s famous play has inspired others, like Jerome Robbins, who wrote the musical West Side Story based on the same plot. William Shakespeare was born in the small town of Stratford-upon-Avon in 1564. His father was a tradesman in the town. Shakespeare married Anne Hathaway when he was 18 years old. They had three children, a daughter in 1583 and twins in 1585. At some point, William Shakespeare left his family and travelled to London, where he became an actor and a playwright. Later in life, when he was rich and successful, he returned to Stratford and died there in 1616. Most people would say that he is the greatest dramatist that has ever lived.

Say you‘ll be there!

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D

Romeo and Juliet Romeo and Juliet both live in Verona, Italy. Juliet, a young girl of fourteen, is a member of the Capulet family, who are life-long enemies of Romeo’s family, the Montagues. They meet at a masked ball at Juliet’s house and fall in love at first sight. Later that night, Romeo climbs over the wall that surrounds the house and places himself in the orchard to be near his newly found love. While he is there, Juliet comes out onto the balcony and starts speaking of her love for Romeo, an enemy of the family. At first she is not aware of him, but Romeo soon lets Juliet know he is there. “The balcony scene” is probably the most famous scene in the play:

Juliet O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I’ll no longer be a Capulet. Romeo Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? Juliet ’Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot Nor arm nor face nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name; And for thy name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself. Romeo I take thee at thy word.

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Wherefore art thou Romeo: why are you called “Romeo” (a name which shows he is a member of the Montague family)?

Deny thy father: refuse to acknowledge your family

owes: owns doff: shed



Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptis’d; Henceforth I never will be Romeo. Juliet What man art thou, that, thus bescreen’d in night, So stumblest on my counsel? Romeo By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word. Juliet My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

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bescreen’d: hidden counsel: private thoughts


Romeo Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.

thee dislike: displeases you

Juliet How cam’st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. Romeo With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.

o’erperch: fly over limits: boundaries stop: hindrance

Juliet If they do see thee they will murder thee. Romeo Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords! Look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.

Look thou but sweet: if only you will look on me with kindness proof: armed

Juliet I would not for the world they saw thee here. Romeo I have night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes; And but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

but: if only prorogued: postponed wanting of: without

They go on talking about their love for each other, and very soon they decide to get married in secret the next day.

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Juliet (…) This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good-night, good-night! As sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast! Romeo O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? Juliet What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? Romeo Th’ exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.

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Juliet I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; And yet I would it were to give again.

I would: I wish

Romeo Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love? Juliet But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.

frank: generous

[Nurse calls within] I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu! Anon, good Nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again.

Anon: in a moment

[Exit Juliet] Romeo O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

afeard: afraid flattering-sweet: delightfully attractive substantial: real

[Enter Juliet above] Juliet Three words, dear Romeo, and good-night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow, By one that I’ll procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; And all my fortunes at thy foot I’ll lay, And follow thee my lord throughout the world.

bent: intention

rite: ceremony follow thee my lord: follow you as my lord

Nurse [Within] Madam!

Say you‘ll be there!

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Juliet I come, anon. – But if thou mean’st not well. I do beseech thee – Nurse [Within] Madam! Juliet By and by; I come – To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief. Tomorrow will I send.

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By and by: presently cease thy suit: stop courting me


Romeo So thrive my soul –

So thrive my soul: as I hope my soul may thrive

Juliet A thousand times good-night! Parting is not easy, and Juliet once again comes out onto the balcony to say goodnight to Romeo: Juliet ’Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone; And yet no farther than a wanton’s bird, That lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silken thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.

wanton: playful (woman or child) gyves: shackles silken thread: this was fastened round the bird’s legs

Romeo I would I were thy bird. Juliet Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good-night, good-night! Parting is such sweet sorrow That I shall say good-night till it be morrow. [Exit] Romeo and Juliet did not “live happily ever after”. In fact they both die tragically at the end of the play. Shakespeare leaves us hoping, though, that their love will conquer the hate between the two families, now united in grief for the young ones.

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Let’s talk! Where does Romeo and Juliet take place? How old is Juliet? Why is love between these two young people such an impossible thing? Why have people been touched by this story for more than 400 years, do you think? 5 What genre traits can you find in this play? 6 Do you know of any other plays by William Shakespeare? 1 2 3 4

Work with words 1 Look in the text and find out: a When does Romeo speak directly to Juliet and not about her? b What does Juliet mean when she says, “’Tis but thy name that is my enemy”? c What does Romeo mean when he says, “My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love”? d What arrangements do they make about their marriage? 2 How would you say this in modern English: a if thou wilt not b Thou art thyself c How cam’st thou hither d Wouldst thou withdraw it? e I would I were thy bird

www.CartoonStock.com

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Did you know this about William Shakespeare and his time? • Parish records show that William Shakespeare was baptised 26 April 1564. He may have been born two or three days before that, so some people celebrate his birthday on 23 April. Strangely enough, he also died on 23 April, in 1616. • William Shakespeare’s father, John Shakespeare, was a glover – he made and sold gloves. He later became Mayor of Stratford. William Shakespeare’s mother was Mary Arden. • Shakespeare lived during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. • Shakespeare’s children were called Susannah, Judith and Hamnet. • Nobody knows why William Shakespeare left his family to go to London. He probably walked all the way, spending four or five days on the journey. • Shakespearian London was a very dirty and foul-smelling city. Rubbish was dumped directly onto the narrow streets, which were also filled with excrements from people and animals. • Children and grown-ups drank a lot of beer. Water was not safe to drink and tea and coffee were far too expensive for ordinary people. • There were no actresses in Elizabethan theatres since only men were allowed to perform on the stage. Young boys would play the parts of women. • William Shakespeare was one of the owners of a theatre called the Globe. He worked in the theatre and wrote plays for it. The theatre showed a different play almost every day. • Some people were seated in a gallery in the theatre, but most of them were just standing on the floor. There was no roof, so performances would be cancelled in bad weather. • The audience in the theatre was not always well behaved. They chatted and shouted, interrupted the actors, ate and drank and even got into fights at times. Then again, they really showed an interest in the play and had good fun at the theatre. • In 1997 a copy of Shakespeare’s Globe theatre was opened near the place where the original one used to stand. Being open-roofed, there are only performances in the summer season, from May to October.

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– What did the magnet say to the pin? – I find you very attractive.

– What did one calendar say to another? – I have more dates than you!

– What did one vampire say to another? – I like your blood type.

– What did one octopus say to another? – I wanna hold your hand, hand, hand, hand, hand, hand, hand, hand …

– What did one snake say to another? – Give me a little hiss.

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– What did the big clock hand say to the little hand? – Don’t worry, I’ll be back in an hour!


Chapter

2

It’s a mystery to me

In this chapter: Culture

Literature

• The Tower of London • Jack the Ripper • Mysterious phenomenons

• • • • • • •

Interview Article Short stories Song Comic strips Riddles Jokes


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What kind of feelings or thoughts do you get from looking at this picture? Try to think of it together with the word MYSTERY. What kind of mystery would you connect it with? Have a conversation in class about different kinds of mysteries (real life mysteries, mysteries in books, films, TV-series etc.) Do all mysteries have logical explanations, in your opinion, or is there more between heaven and earth than meets the eye?

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A

Do you believe in ghosts? Would you like to meet one? A good place to go would be

The Tower of London; the most haunted place in Britain? Ben Fullerton has worked as a beefeater for eleven years, and he is glad to show us around and tell us more about the famous restless spirits of the Tower. – Who is your “number one ghost”, Ben? – I’d say Anne Boleyn, King Henry VIII’s second wife. She was beheaded in 1536, and since then many people claim they have seen her ghost, sometimes with, sometimes without her head. She has been spotted in several places here: in the church, looking out of a window in the White Tower, or she has been seen walking around on Tower Green. – Don’t you think people are just letting their imagination run away with them? – Sometimes, yes. But strange things do happen here, you know. For example, in 1972, a nine year old girl was on a tour of the Tower with her father. She then told him she had seen a lady being beheaded with a sword on Tower Green. And Anne Boleyn was beheaded with a sword brought in from France, not an axe, since she was a royal person. The girl was also able to give other details from the execution – and all of them were correct! She had never read about or been told anything about Anne Boleyn – in fact, the kid had never heard of her! Things like that are a bit hard to explain, or what? – They certainly are. Do you have any other royal spirits wandering about here? – Heaps of them. People have seen the small ghosts of King Edward V and his brother, who were murdered in the Bloody Tower by the order of Richard, their uncle. They were only ten and twelve years old. Sir Walter Raleigh didn’t die here, but he was kept prisoner for thirteen years, and some people think they have seen a dark, mysterious figure on “Raleigh’s Walk” between the Bloody Tower and the Lieutenant’s House. We have a running ghost, too. Henry VIII didn’t like Margaret Pole, the countess of Salisbury, and in 1541 he decided to have her head cut off. The poor old woman was seventy at the time, and she didn’t want to be beheaded for no good reason.

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To save her life, she tried to run away from the executioner, but he followed her, swinging his axe. He hit her five times, and her head finally came off. On 27 May, the day she was executed, people sometimes see old Margaret running away from the headsman. – Have you yourself ever seen anything out of the ordinary? – No, I haven’t. Now, I’ve heard some strange footsteps a few times, but that’s all. – Do you believe in ghosts? – I don’t know if I’d like to call them ghosts. You know, all these people had tragic and violent deaths. Maybe the happenings were so strong that they made a sort of lasting, visual imprint on the place that certain people can see sometimes. But your guess is as good as mine as to what’s going on here. – Don’t the ghost stories scare people away? – On the contrary! Tourists keep asking me where to go and what to do to see a ghost at the Tower, but I don’t think you can go ghost hunting like that. You either happen to see them, or you don’t. I’d say most people would be tickled pink to see a genuine 400-yearold ghost. Wouldn’t you? – Maybe in the daytime. But I certainly wouldn’t like to spend a night alone in the Bloody Tower!

Let’s talk!

Work with words

1 Who was Anne Boleyn? 2 What did the little girl say she saw? Do you think she was telling the truth? Why or why not? 3 How does Ben try to explain the strange happenings at the Tower? Do you agree with him? 4 Do you know of any “haunted” places, perhaps close to where you live? What is said to go on there?

Say these sentences in another way: a They let their imagination run away with them b There are heaps of them c Your guess is as good as mine d On the contrary e I was tickled pink

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B

An unsolved mystery: “Jack the Ripper” “Jack the Ripper” is a popular name given to a serial killer who murdered a number of prostitutes in the East End of London in 1888. The name originates from a letter written by someone who claimed to be the killer. “Jack the Ripper” was also known as the ”Whitechapel Murderer” or “Leather Apron”. It is unclear just how many women “Jack the Ripper” killed. Some experts think the number is four, while others say seven or more. These five women are generally accepted as being his victims: Name: Mary Ann Nicholls (“Pretty Polly”) Age: 44 Killed: 31 August, 1888 Found: Buck’s Row, Whitechapel, London Name: Annie Chapman (“Dark Annie”) Age: 47 Killed: 8 September, 1888 Found: Hanbury Street, Whitechapel, London Name: Elizabeth Stride (“Long Liz”) Age: 45 Killed: 30 September, 1888 Found: Burner Street, Whitechapel, London Name: Catherine Eddowes (“Claypipe Kate”) Age: 43 Killed: 30 September, 1888 Found: Church Passage, Whitechapel, London Name: Mary Jeanette Kelly Age: 25 Killed: 9 November, 1888 Found: In her own room in Miller’s Court, Whitechapel, London

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Whitechapel Whitechapel is a part of London’s East End. It used to be a fairly pleasant and respectable part of London, but things changed. In the 1880s Whitechapel was the home of thousands of poor, miserable people. Those who were lucky enough to have work didn’t earn very much, and many were unemployed. Houses were run down and crowded. One single room was usually the home of a whole family, and families were large in those days. Many children were born in London’s East End, but only half of them lived to be more than five years old! Not everybody could afford to rent a room. People slept on the street or found some kind of shelter, or they rented a room for the night when they had a few pence to pay for it. A number of those who lived on the street were “the unfortunates”, prostitutes who had seen better days. All of the Ripper’s victims except Kelly were prostitutes murdered in the street. A serial killer on the loose Around 2.30 am on the night of 31 August, a police officer was doing his regular rounds in Whitechapel. Suddenly a terrible sight met him: the body of Mary Ann Nicholls, or “Pretty Polly” as she was called in her younger days. Her brown woollen dress and old red coat were stained with blood, her pretty straw hat was lying next to her in the dirty street,

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and her eyes were wide open, staring into nothing. She had been killed in a dreadful way – whoever had done it certainly knew how to use a knife! Murders were not unusual in the Whitechapel area, but this was something out of the ordinary. Mary Anne was probably Jack the Ripper’s first victim. Victim number two was Annie Chapman, nicknamed “Dark Annie”. From the way the knife had been used, the police quickly realized that London might have a dangerous serial killer on the loose. On 27 September the Central News agency received a letter about the murders signed “Jack the Ripper”, but experts are now convinced that this letter was a hoax, probably written by a journalist. The police also received letters supposedly coming from the Ripper, but it is doubtful that the real murderer wrote them. Three weeks later Elizabeth Stride, “Long Liz”, was found dead. This time, it seemed the killer had been disturbed. He did not quite finish his usual routine, but moved on to find another victim. And he did – the same night. Catherine Eddowes, “Claypipe Kate”, was clearly killed by gruesome Jack and horribly mistreated, just like the others. The police now received a letter that may have been written by the real Ripper. Besides the letter, the parcel contained half a human kidney that the killer had removed from the victim Eddowes. She had suffered from a kidney disease, and the received organ part matched the description of what such a kidney would look like. By now, London was in panic. People feared being out after dark, there were guards in the streets, even watchdogs. It was no use. After a quiet period of a good month, Jack the Ripper struck again. Mary Jeanette Kelly was younger than the other women and she did not live on the street, but she was certainly another Ripper victim. And that was it. There were killings after Mary’s, but they did not quite follow the same pattern and were probably just inspired by Jack the Ripper’s doings. What happened to the madman himself? Nobody ever heard from him again. The police were severely criticised for having failed to track down and arrest the murderer, but we have to remember that this all happened in a time before forensic science or even finger printing. The only way to prove that someone committed a murder in those days was to catch him or her in the act, or get the suspect to confess. Who was Jack the Ripper? Of course, Jack was not his real name. For more than a hundred years now, people have tried to find out who he really was. At the time, Scotland Yard received more than a thousand letters from people who

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claimed they knew the identity of the murderer. There were several witness reports, but they were confusing. Close to 200 people were arrested – and all of them were released again. Some people even said they were Jack the Ripper, maybe hoping it would make them famous. Wild guesses were made: could he be a police officer, walking the streets at night? A sailor hiding in his ship in the docks nearby? Or maybe he was really a she; a crazy midwife who hated prostitutes? Most experts agree that whatever his identity was, he was probably left-handed and was someone familiar with the human body and the use of a surgical knife. Cult-like interest in the case began in the 1950s, and exploded in the 1970s, when a new theory was published in which the grandson of Queen Victoria, Prince Albert Victor, was accused of being the Ripper. Other theories paired Jack with someone famous or identified him as being someone famous himself.

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In 1992 the case documents were made available to the public, and a lot of people hoped to be able to solve the mystery then. The documents turned out to be of little help, for much of the evidence had been lost. Almost all of the City of London Police files were lost in the Blitz during World War 2. Some even claim that the files were destroyed on purpose to keep the Ripper’s identity a secret. However, research is still producing results, and modern “Ripperologists” hope to find out who the killer really was some day. Over the years, the reputation of Jack the Ripper has gone from being a brutal woman killer to one of the most fascinating figures in modern history. The stories about him live on in countless books and films, and the mysteries surrounding this killer still fascinate people and present an intellectual challenge they want to solve.

Let’s talk!

Work with words

1 2 3 4

1 Explain these words in English: a unemployed b a nickname c a serial killer d a pattern e a midwife f evidence

5 6 7

8

Describe the Whitechapel area. What kind of people lived there? Who discovered the first Ripper victim? When did the police realize they had a serial killer operating in Whitechapel? Say something about the letters written by “Jack the Ripper”. Why was murder investigation difficult at that time? Mention some suggestions as to the identity of Jack the Ripper. What do you think? Why were the case documents made available in 1992 of little help?

2 Find expressions in the text with the same meaning as a for whom things had been better b something unusual c a little more than a month d they were set free e he knew the human body

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C

Ghosts are not the only things that haunt a person’s soul.

Ghost walk “I hate coming here,” Arin said, looking around with nervous eyes. “It’s too scary.” Marianne frowned. “You always say that, but it’s not. Not really. I’ve been here many times.” “But what if he actually comes tonight?” Arin’s mother grinned like a Halloween pumpkin. “That is what we’re counting on,” she said. Arin let her shoulders sag. There was no getting out of it; her mother had kept after her until she finally agreed to visit the little church and the big graveyard that spread out behind it. She looked the place over more closely now, the tall steeple, the long wooden sideboards turned blotchy gray where most of the paint had long ago fallen off. A red and white FOR SALE sign was planted in the tall grass in the front yard. The new church had been built last year, a half mile up the road. Marianne walked past the front steps, around to the big yard, and Arin followed. Kids had thrown rocks through some of the pretty stained-glass windows, probably the Rayner boys over on Ledge Street. They were always wrecking everything; or maybe it was that big kid Kenny Becker and the little fan club that followed him around all the time. There weren’t any other kids around here tonight, though, and Arin didn’t think there would be. The wind had died, the storm had passed, but the ground was still soaked. The air had gotten cold, and thick dark clouds still filled the evening sky. Every kid in town was home, dry and warm, watching the new fall TV shows. Almost every kid. Just past the side walkway stood the first tombstones. “I wanna go,” Arin said, trying to insist. “He’s gonna be here any minute, walking the graves. I’m just not ready to meet up with someone from the other side.” “We have to stay, and you know it. Don’t back out now, Arin, please! He was your father, after all. Not even death can change that.”

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It‘s a mystery to me

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Arin kept walking, one step at a time. The tombstones near the church were the oldest, some from the Civil War, though in the fading light she couldn’t read any of them. Her father had shown the graves to her once, shown you how you could figure out the ages of the people from the dates. Nobody lived very long in the old days, it seemed. Sometimes that was still true. Toward the other end of the graveyard the stones were newer, some only a few months old, or a couple of years. Arin looked up and froze. “It’s him!” she said, then she faded behind Marianne and peeked out around her hips. He was as tall as Arin remembered, taller than Marianne, but he looked darker somehow, and much thinner. His eyes were set too deeply in his tired face, making them almost invisible in the near-darkness. She watched him moving slowly, evenly, across the grass, coming toward her. “What if he can’t hear me?” Arin asked. “What if he doesn’t want us here at all? We shouldn’t have come!” But Marianne went forward, leaving Arin no choice but to follow. They all reached the grave at the same time. Her father turned and faced the gravestone. Arin couldn’t see his face well enough, but she could hear the sounds he began to make, a whimpering noise. He’s crying, Arin thought, which seemed so strange. She had never heard him cry in life. “He doesn’t seem to know we’re here,” Arin said, but as she did, her father’s head turned and he looked over his shoulder, looked almost right at her. Then he looked away again. “No,” Marianne whispered, “but I think he can hear us, more or less. Maybe not with his ears, but he hears us.” The man who had been Arin’s father looked up then and gazed out across the yard, toward the church. “Go ahead, tell him,” Marianne prodded. “I don’t think I can,” Arin replied. Marianne glared at her. “I have tried my best, I’ve told him how I feel, but it’s not enough. Now you have to try. You have to. He’s bound to this place. That’s why he comes here night after night. We need to set him free!” “Okay,” Arin agreed, because she knew it was true. The man’s head turned again. He was barely visible at all now, it had gotten so dark. Arin moved a step closer. “You don’t have to stay around here anymore,” she told her father. “You did everything you could have, and more. You always did! I’m

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grateful for the time we had together, not sad because of what we might have had. We’re all right, Daddy. And so are you.” She thought about the night the two men had robbed the little church. Arin had gone with her mother to help her father finish cleaning, which had been his part-time job. The robbers had come in just after that. She remembered screaming as her father tried to throw the men out, then two shots being fired by one man while the other used the butt of his rifle like a club. The old church hadn’t been used since that night. “Daddy,” Arin went on, “you were so brave. You only did what you thought was right, which was what you always did. Nobody can blame you for doing that.” Even as she spoke, the words seemed to have a strange effect on him. Her father turned slowly in a circle, only a dark shape in the night now, but Arin could sense a weight leaving his shoulders, could imagine his spirit glowing more brightly – free, or finally getting there. He was taking a last look, she thought. At least, she hoped he was. “I love you guys,” Arin’s father said, speaking to the darkness, thinking out loud, perhaps. His voice was so quiet, Arin thought, as if it almost wasn’t there at all. “We love you, too,” Arin and her mother said, both at the same time. The clouds parted then. Stars appeared spreading over half the sky, and the moon suddenly shone down on the church and the graveyard, providing enough light to read by. Marianne went to stand before the wide face of the tombstone, stood beside her husband, reading the names. Arin stood for a moment, snuggled in between them, but then her father started to leave.

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He walked silently between the other gravestones, slowly at first, then picked up speed, like a big ship heading out to sea. She heard him pull his keys out of his pocket as he neared his car in the parking lot. “Do you think it worked?” Arin asked. “Do you?” Arin nodded. “I think so.” Her mother smiled. Then both of them rose up slowly and drifted into the sky, toward the moon, toward the stars, fading as they went. Mark A. Garland

Let’s talk!

Work with words

1 Ghost walk has many traits that are typical of short stories. Discuss in class: a the time and setting b the main characters c the point of view d the plot (what happens?) e the ending

Here are some verbs that are used in the text. Find another English verb that means the same thing, or explain in English what these verbs mean:

2 A short story often has a turning point, which is a point where the story reaches its climax and the conflict is resolved. Where would you say the turning point of Ghost walk is? 3 Is Ghost walk just a scary story? What would you say the theme is? (What is the story really about?)

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a b c d e f g

frown grin sag wreck peek glare gaze


Ghostbusters

If there’s something strange in your neighborhood Who you gonna call – Ghostbusters If there’s something weird and it don’t look good Who you gonna call – Ghostbusters I ain’t afraid of no ghost I ain’t afraid of no ghost If you’re seeing things running through your head Who can you call – Ghostbusters An invisible man sleeping in your bed Oh, who you gonna call – Ghostbusters Who you gonna call – Ghostbusters If you’re all alone, pick up the phone And call – Ghostbusters I ain’t afraid of no ghost I hear it likes the girls I ain’t afraid of no ghost Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Who you gonna call – Ghostbusters Well, if you’ve had a dose of a freaky ghost, baby You’d better call – Ghostbusters Let me tell you something Bustin’ makes me feel good Don’t get caught alone, oh no Ghostbusters When it comes through your door, unless you just want some more I think you better call – Ghostbusters Who you gonna call – Ghostbusters Ray Parker Jr.

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Oh, mysterious world! •

The phenomenon of crop circles became generally known in the 1970s. Crop circles are areas of cereal or similar crops that have been flattened to form various geometrical patterns. These patterns started appearing in England in the late 1970s, and the phenomenon rapidly started appearing in other countries around the world. Two elderly English gentlemen, Doug Bowers and Dave Chorley, revealed that they had been making crop circles since 1978 using planks, rope, hats and wires as their only tools. Most people today think that all crop circles are made by pranksters, but many “cerealogists” think there are also paranormal explanations, often including UFOs, to these agriglyphs, as they are called. • Part of the Atlantic is called the Bermuda Triangle (or Devil’s Triangle). It is the name of a triangular area defined by Bermuda, Puerto Rico and the southernmost tip of Florida. The name was invented by an American journalist in the 1960s. The Bermuda triangle is known as a paranormal

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site where the laws of physics are altered or do not apply. A number of ships and airplanes have disappeared without a trace in the area. Were they destroyed by tornados or underwater volcanoes, abducted by aliens or kidnapped by inhabitants of the sunken city of Atlantis? Nowadays, with modern communication equipment like radar and satellite navigation available, these mysterious disappearances seem to have ceased altogether. •

Many people think that pyramids have mystical powers. Strange things are said to have happened in the Great Pyramid in Ghisa, Egypt. Exact models of this pyramid have been constructed in cardboard, metal and plastic. Experiments have shown that razor blades keep their sharpness and food can stay fresh for an unusually long time in the pyramid models.

You can see more than 300 figures made of lines, geometric shapes and pictures of animals and birds, on the Nazca plateau in Peru. These enormous figures, called geoglyphs, were probably created by the Nazca people about 2000 years ago, but there is no clear explanation as to why and how they were made. Were they designed as pure art, tracks for athletes or astronomical observatories? Some even claim they were made by aliens as runways for their spaceships.

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D

Saki (1870–1916) is the pen name of the British author Hector Hugh Munro, who is considered a master of the short story. His stories are often witty and sometimes macabre, but always memorable, and many of them satirize English society and culture. The open window is perhaps his most famous and widely read story.

The open window “My aunt will be down presently, Mr. Nuttel,” said a very selfpossessed young lady of fifteen; “in the meantime you must try and put up with me.” Framton Nuttel endeavoured to say the correct something which should duly flatter the niece of the moment without unduly discounting the aunt that was to come. Privately he doubted more than ever whether these formal visits on a succession of total strangers would do much towards helping the nerve cure which he was supposed to be undergoing. “I know how it will be,” his sister had said when he was preparing to migrate to this rural retreat; “you will bury yourself down there and not speak to a living soul, and your nerves will be worse than ever from moping. I shall just give you letters of introduction to all the people I know there. Some of them, as far as I can remember, were quite nice.” Framton wondered whether Mrs. Sappleton, the lady to whom he was presenting one of the letters of introduction came into the nice division. “Do you know many of the people round here?” asked the niece, when she judged that they had had sufficient silent communion. “Hardly a soul,” said Framton. “My sister was staying here, at the rectory, you know, some four years ago, and she gave me letters of introduction to some of the people here.” He made the last statement in a tone of distinct regret. “Then you know practically nothing about my aunt?” pursued the self-possessed young lady. “Only her name and address,” admitted the caller. He was wondering whether Mrs. Sappleton was in the married or widowed

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state. An undefinable something about the room seemed to suggest masculine habitation. “Her great tragedy happened just three years ago,” said the child; “that would be since your sister’s time.” “Her tragedy?” asked Framton; somehow in this restful country spot tragedies seemed out of place. “You may wonder why we keep that window wide open on an October afternoon,” said the niece, indicating a large French window that opened on to a lawn. “It is quite warm for the time of the year,” said Framton; “but has that window got anything to do with the tragedy?” “Out through that window, three years ago today, her husband and her two young brothers went off for their day’s shooting. They never came back. In crossing the moor to their favourite snipe-shooting ground they were all three engulfed in a treacherous piece of bog. It had been that dreadful wet summer, you know, and places that were safe in other years gave way suddenly without warning. Their bodies were never recovered. That was the dreadful part of it.” Here the child’s voice lost its self-possessed note and became falteringly human. “Poor aunt always thinks that they will come back someday, they and the little brown spaniel that was lost with them, and walk in at that window just as they used to do. That is why the window is kept open every evening till it is quite dusk. Poor dear aunt, she has often told me how they went out, her husband with his white waterproof coat over his arm, and Ronnie, her youngest brother, singing ‘Bertie, why do you bound?’ as he always did to tease her, because she said it got on her nerves. Do you know, sometimes on still, quiet evenings like this, I almost get a creepy feeling that they will all walk in through that window –” She broke off with a little shudder. It was a relief to Framton when the aunt bustled into the room with a whirl of apologies for being late in making her appearance. “I hope Vera has been amusing you?” she said. “She has been very interesting,” said Framton. “I hope you don’t mind the open window,” said Mrs. Sappleton briskly; “my husband and brothers will be home directly from shooting, and they always come in this way. They’ve been out for snipe in the marshes today, so they’ll make a fine mess over my poor carpets. So like you menfolk, isn’t it?”

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She rattled on cheerfully about the shooting and the scarcity of birds, and the prospects for duck in the winter. To Framton it was all purely horrible. He made a desperate but only partially successful effort to turn the talk on to a less ghastly topic, he was conscious that his hostess was giving him only a fragment of her attention, and her eyes were constantly straying past him to the open window and the lawn beyond. It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence that he should have paid his visit on the tragic anniversary. “The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, an absence of mental excitement, and avoidance of anything in the nature of violent physical exercise,” announced Framton, who laboured under the tolerably widespread delusion that total strangers and chance acquaintances are hungry for the least detail of one’s ailments and infirmities, their cause and cure. “On the matter of diet they are not so much in agreement,” he continued. “No?” said Mrs. Sappleton, in a voice which only replaced a yawn at the last moment. Then she suddenly brightened into alert attention – but not to what Framton was saying.

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“Here they are at last!” she cried. “Just in time for tea, and don’t they look as if they were muddy up to the eyes!” Framton shivered slightly and turned towards the niece with a look intended to convey sympathetic comprehension. The child was staring out through the open window with a dazed horror in her eyes. In a chill shock of shameless fear Framton swung round in his seat and looked in the same direction. In the deepening twilight three figures were walking across the lawn towards the window, they all carried guns under their arms, and one of them was additionally burdened with a white coat hung over his shoulders. A tired brown spaniel kept close at their heels. Noiselessly they neared the house, and then a hoarse young voice chanted out of the dusk: “I said, Bertie, why do you bound?” Framton grabbed wildly at his stick and hat; the hall door, the gravel drive, and the front gate were dimly noted stages in his headlong retreat. A cyclist coming along the road had to run into the hedge to avoid imminent collision. “Here we are, my dear,” said the bearer of the white mackintosh, coming in through the window, “fairly muddy, but most of it’s dry. Who was that who bolted out as we came up?” “A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel,” said Mrs. Sappleton; “could only talk about his illnesses, and dashed off without a word of goodbye or apology when you arrived. One would think he had seen a ghost.” “I expect it was the spaniel,” said the niece calmly; “he told me he had a horror of dogs. He was once hunted into a cemetery somewhere on the banks of the Ganges by a pack of pariah dogs, and had to spend the night in a newly dug grave with the creatures snarling and grinning and foaming just above him. Enough to make anyone lose their nerve.” Romance at short notice was her speciality.

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Let’s talk! 1 Like text C, text D is a short story. Study the text and say something about – the time and setting – the main characters – the point of view – the plot – the ending – the turning point – the theme 2 Compare the two short stories. Can you find similarities and differences between them? Which story did you like best? Why?

Work with words Many of the sentences and phrases in text D are not quite what we would use in our everyday speech. How would you say these sentences in everyday English? a He was preparing to migrate to this rural retreat. b She judged that they had had sufficient silent communication. c Something seemed to suggest masculine habitation. d He made a desperate but only partially successful effort to turn the talk on to a less ghastly topic. e He laboured under the widespread delusion that people are hungry for the least detail of one’s ailments and infirmities.

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What is Dracula’s favourite dessert? – I scream!

Why are vampires so stupid? – Because they are suckers!

What do sea monsters eat? – Fish and ships!

What kind of dog did the vampire get? – A blood hound!

What happened when the male vampire met the female vampire? – It was love at first bite! What about the two ghosts? – It was love at first fright!

Where do vampires keep their money? – In a blood bank!

What do vegetarian vampires eat? – Blood oranges!

What did the vampire say to his girlfriend? – Let’s go out for a bite!

– Mum, the kids at school say I’m a vampire! – Don’t take any notice of them, dear. Now just eat your soup before it clots!

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Chapter

3

On the edge

In this chapter: Culture

Literature

• People in dangerous and challenging situations • Drug addiction • Robert Falcon Scott and the fatal expedition to the South Pole

• Short story • Articles • Entries from a diary • Poem • Song • Jokes • Comic strips


Pick one of these headlines and try to imagine the rest of the story and the background for it. Share your thoughts with other students in your group.

New pa rty

drug k ills aga in

Heroin smugglers caught in border control

sh in a r c lane tains p d e n v Survi ocky Mou the R


ol o h c -s Pre

lled i k ren d l i ch

mb o b by

16-year -old cli mbs M ount E verest

man d le b a is D : e c n rma Amazing perfo annel h C h s li g n E e swims th

ara h a S e h ugh t o r h t y l n safe e i r B ’ O


A

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King of the Hill “Why did you do it?” my mother asked, her eyes slowly filling with tears. I couldn’t answer. Not because I didn’t want to. More than anything I wanted to answer that question – not to give my mother an answer, but to give myself one. Why did I do it? I closed my eyes. The cheering sound of their voices was still in my ears. I could see their eyes, glowing with excitement, and feel the tense, electrified air surrounding us. Right there and then I was the centre of their attention. I was King of the Hill, the greatest of the great. How could I not do it? I never made the decision. There was no decision to be made. Anyway, I had never decided anything important before in my life, so why should I start then? Up to that moment I had been a nobody, a follower, the invisible one. Never a decision-maker. The brisk autumn air chilled my body as I slowly removed my jacket and gave it to Paul. “Go, Mick, go!” he said. “You can do it!” “Yeah, come on, Mick!” Other voices took over where he left off. Pale faces were turned towards me. Paul looked at his watch. “It’s due any minute now,” he said. “Get up there!” I climbed the rail of the bridge. At a distance I could hear the train approaching, slowing down before the next stop. I never said anything. Neither did anybody else at this point. We didn’t even seem to breathe. There it was. The 9.25 from Newcastle. I jumped. I don’t remember much after that. I can vaguely recall loud cries, hushed voices, sirens, somebody bending over me on the roof of the train. I opened my eyes again and looked up. My mother’s eyes were still on me, two wet question marks, looking for an answer. “I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t know.”

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Let’s talk! 1 What did Mick do on that special autumn night? 2 Why did he do it? Mick couldn’t answer that question himself. Can you? 3 What impression do you get of a Mick? b Paul? c Mick’s other friends? 4 What traits of the short story can you find in this text? 5 At all times, people have been attracted to danger and challenges. In some cases we would call such people stupid; in other cases they are called heroes. What is the difference between a stupid action and a heroic one? Discuss this.

Work with words 1 Explain in your own words what is meant by a the tense, electrified air surrounding us b King of the Hill c a follower d two wet question marks 2 Find the adjectives in the text. How are they used to emphasize the atmosphere in the different parts of the short story?

I told you so

My mother never says, ‘I told you so’. She doesn’t believe in it. She calls it ‘rubbing salt in the wound’. But sometimes, her silences are so loud That we wish she’d give in, for once, And get it off our minds. Jean Little

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That crazy wind This guy goes to a bar located at the top of the Empire State Building in New York. It looks like a nice place and he takes a seat at the bar next to another guy. “This is a nice place. I’ve never been here before,” the first guy says. “Oh, really?” the other replies. “It’s also a very special bar.” “Why is that?” the first guy asks. “Well, you see that painting on the far wall? That’s an original van Gogh, and this stool I’m sitting on was on the Titanic.” “Gee, that’s amazing!” the first guy says. “Not only that, but you see that window over there, fourth from the right? Well, the wind does strange things outside that window. If you jump out, you’ll fall about 50 feet before the wind catches you and pushes you back up.” “No way, that’s impossible,” the first guy replies. “Not at all, take a look,” the other man replies and walks over to the window followed closely by the first man. He opens the window, climbs over the sill and falls out. He drops 10 … 20 … 30 … 40 … 50 feet, comes to a stop and whoosh! He comes right back up and sails back through a window. “See, it’s fun. You should try it,” he says. “Try it? I don’t even believe I saw it!” the first man shouts. “It’s easy. Watch. I’ll do it again.” And with that, he falls out the window again. He drops 10 … 20 … 30 … 40 … 50 feet, comes to a stop and whoosh! He comes right back up and sails in through the window. “Go ahead, give it a try, it’s a blast,” he says. “Well what the heck. OK, I’ll give it a try,” the first man says and proceeds to fall out of the window. He falls 10 … 20 … 30 … 40 … 50 … 100 … 200 … 300 … 400 … 500 … 1000 feet and SPLAT! He ends up as road pizza on the sidewalk below. After calmly watching the first man fall to his death, the other guy casually closes the window and heads back to the bar and orders another drink. The bartender arrives with the drink and says, “You know, Superman, you’re a real jerk when you’re drunk.”

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B

In the USA, a growing number of frustrated parents are sending their teenagers to boot camps, as a last attempt at disciplining them. The parents are tired and worn out after months and years of scolding, correcting, shouting, cajoling and talking, with no effect. Their teenagers are out of control; they may have a drug problem and some of them even have criminal records, and their parents are just not able to cope anymore. They cling to the hope that some months at a strict boot camp will create miracles.

Boot camps for bad boys? Boot camps were originally started as an alternative to prison for juvenile delinquents. Today there are several kinds of camps based on the same idea; that a few months in the wilderness in a strict and structured environment will turn an unruly brat into a physically stronger and mentally sounder person. These camps are modelled on military schools. They strongly focus on respect and responsibility, obedience and discipline. A teenager who is sent to boot camp has a hard time in front of him or her, not only because of the tough discipline, but also because

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every trace of the old life must be left at home in order to form a new personality. The person going back will be different from the one being taken there by the weary parents. No personal belongings are allowed into camp. Often street clothes are banned, so are piercings and jewellery, listening to music, talking or socialising in other ways. The teenager will sleep in a simple dormitory with up to twenty other problem children and will have to get up in the early hours of the day, ready to meet yet another day of strict discipline, hard work and military-like exercises. Coaches will inspect rooms and foot lockers at random times of the day or night, with no slip-ups allowed. There will be no visits from parents before the teenager’s behaviour has changed radically and no going home before he or she is considered “cured”. A stay at such a camp may cost the parents up to $ 4,000, but it is considered worth the money if it can turn their child from a troubled teenager into the well-behaved citizen they expect him or her to be. The big question is, do boot camps really change a problem child into a well adjusted adolescent? Statistics say ‘no’. They may serve as a wake-up call for somebody who has taken a wrong turn in life and

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is motivated to do something about it, but about 90 % of the teenagers fall back into their old ways again after a short time. Another important question is, how healthy are these camps for the mental state of the child? Is a person who is tough on the outside better equipped to take the rough treatment? The principle of boot camps has been highly debated. Are they really the best medicine for a teenager who has severe problems living what is considered a normal life? Wouldn’t such a person do better with professional help from a psychologist or a social worker? To cope with our society you need more than discipline and military exercises. The world may be a tough place at times, but it is not a boot camp. In the real world we value other qualities, like kindness, consideration, politeness and friendship. In many people’s opinion, boot camps do not prepare these troubled teenagers to go out into the real world, they just teach them how to survive in their own world. Television companies have created reality series based on the boot camp idea. In many reality series the bottom line is that the loudest and meanest person wins. Is that what boot camps are all about? Or are they an effective means of transforming an angry, struggling teen into a person better suited to cope with the challenges of our society?

Let’s talk!

Work with words

What do you think about boot camps? Can they help troubled teenagers?

1 Find adjectives to describe a person that would be a candidate for boot camp. 2 Look in the text and find another word for: a try b young criminal c healthy d tired e mistake f teenager g change

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Delay A 747 was halfway across the Atlantic when the captain’s voice was heard on the loudspeaker: “Attention, passengers. We have lost one of our engines, but we can certainly reach London with the three we have left. Unfortunately, we will arrive an hour late as a result of the loss.” An hour later the captain’s voice was heard again: “Sorry, but we have lost another engine. Still, we can travel on two. I’m afraid we will now be two hours late.” Shortly after, the captain was on the loudspeaker again: “Guess what, folks. We just lost our third engine, but don’t worry. We can fly with only one, but we will now be three hours late.” At this point, one of the passengers became furious. “For Pete’s sake,” he shouted. “If we lose another engine, we’ll be up here all night!”

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C

15-year-old Alice is visiting her grandparents in the town where she used to live herself only six months before. Her old friends are not at home and she is bored to death, so when Jill – a girl she knows only vaguely – asks her to a party, she is thrilled and thankful. Jill’s party changes Alice’s life completely.

Go ask Alice July 10 Dear Diary, I don’t know whether I should be ashamed or elated. I only know that last night I had the most incredible experience of my life. It sounds morbid when I put it in words, but actually it was tremendous and wonderful and miraculous. The kids at Jill’s were so friendly and relaxed and at ease that I immediately felt at home with them. They accepted me like I had always been one of their crowd and everyone seemed happy and unhurried. I loved the atmosphere. It was great, great, great. Anyway, a little while after we got there Jill and one of the boys brought out a tray of coke and all the kids immediately sprawled out on the floor on cushions or curled up together on the sofa and chairs. Jill winked at me and said, “Tonight we’re playing ‘Button, Button, Who’s Got the Button?’ You know, the game we used to play when we were kids.” Bill Thompson, who was stretched out next to me, laughed, “Only it’s just too bad that now somebody has to baby-sit.” I looked up at him and smiled. I didn’t want to appear too stupid. Everyone sipped their drinks slowly, and everyone seemed to be watching everyone else. I kept my eyes on Jill supposing that anything she did I should do. Suddenly I began to feel something strange inside myself like a storm. I remember that two or three records had played since we had the drinks, and now everyone was beginning to look at me. The palms of my hands were sweating and I could feel droplets of moisture on my scalp at the back of my neck. The room seemed unusually quiet, and as Jill got up to close the window shades completely I thought, “They’re trying to poison me! Why, why would they try to poison me?”

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My whole body was tense at every muscle and a feeling of weird apprehension swept over me, strangled me, suffocated me. When I opened my eyes, I realised that it was just Bill who had put his arm around my shoulder. “Lucky you,” he was saying in a slow-motioned record on the wrong speed voice, “But don’t worry, I’ll baby-sit you. This will be a good trip. Come on, relax, enjoy it, enjoy it.” He caressed my face and neck tenderly, and said, “Honestly, I won’t let anything happen to you.” Suddenly he seemed to be repeating himself over and over like a slow-motioned echo chamber. I started laughing, wildly, hysterically. It struck me as the funniest, most absurd thing I had ever heard. Then I noticed the strange shifting patterns on the ceiling. Bill pulled me down and my head rested in his lap as I watched the pattern change to swirling colors, great fields of reds, blues and yellows. I tried to share the beauty with the others, but my words came out soggy, wet and dripping or tasting of color. I pulled myself up and began walking, feeling a slight chill which crept inside as well as outside my body. I wanted to tell Bill, but all I could do was laugh. (…)

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I looked at a magazine on the table, and I could see it in 100 dimensions. It was so beautiful I could not stand the sight of it and closed my eyes. Immediately I was floating into another sphere, another world, another state. Things rushed away from me and at me, taking my breath away like a drop in a fast elevator. I couldn’t tell what was real and what was unreal. Was I the table or the book or the music, or was I part of all of them, but it didn’t really matter, for whatever I was, I was wonderful. For the first time that I could remember in my whole life, I was completely uninhibited. I was dancing before the whole group, performing, showing off, and enjoying every second of it. My senses were so up that I could hear someone breathing in the house next door and I could smell someone miles away making orange and red and green ribbed Jell-O. After what seemed eternities I began to come down and the party started breaking up. I sort of asked Jill what happened and she said that 10 out of the 14 bottles of coke had LSD in them and, “button, button,” no one knew just who would wind up with them. Wow, am I glad I was one of the lucky ones.

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Gramp’s house was dark when we got home, and Jill helped me to my room, out of my clothes and into bed, and I drifted off into a seasick type of sleep, wrapped in a general sense of well-being, except for a slight headache that probably was the result of long and intense laughing. It was fun! It was ecstatic! But I don’t think I’ll ever try it again. I’ve heard too many frightening stories about drugs. Now that I think back I should have known what was happening! Any dum-dum should have known, but I thought the whole party was so strange and exciting that I guess I just wasn’t listening or maybe I didn’t want to listen – I’d have been scared to death if I’d known. So I’m glad they did it to me, because now I can feel free and honest and virtuous about not having made the decision myself. And besides the whole experience is over and past and I’ll never think of it again. This is Alice’s first meeting with drugs, but unfortunately not her last. It doesn’t take her long before she is totally hooked on whatever she can get her hands on. Her parents are very worried about her, but they never suspect she is into drugs. When life gets too rough, Alice runs away with a new friend, Chris. They discover in time that standing on one’s own feet isn’t as marvellous as they had expected it to be, and they go home again. Alice decides to “stay clean”. With the constant pressure from old “friends”, that is not easy.

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January 24 Oh damn, damn, damn, it’s happened again. I don’t know whether to scream with glory or cover myself with ashes and sackcloth, whatever that means. Anyone who says pot and acid are not addictive is a damn, stupid, raving idiot, unenlightened fool! I’ve been on them since July 10, and when I’ve been off I’ve been scared to death to even think of anything that even looks or seems like dope. All the time pretending to myself that I could take it or leave it! All the dumb, idiot kids who think they are only chipping are in reality just existing from one experience to the other. After you’ve had it, there isn’t any life without drugs. It’s a prodding, colorless, dissonant bare existence. It stinks. And I’m glad I’m back. Glad! Glad! Glad! I’ve never had it better than I had it last night. Each new time is the best time and Chris feels the same way. Last night when she called and asked me to come over, I knew something terrible had happened. She sounded like she didn’t know what to do. But when I got there and smelled that incredible smell, I just sat down on the floor of her room with her and cried and smoked. It was beautiful and wonderful and we’d been without it for so long. I’ll never be able to express how really great it is. Later I called Mother and told her I was spending the night with Chris because she felt a little depressed. Depressed? No one in the world but a doper could know the true opposite of depressed. Now Alice goes on until she reaches the very bottom. Once again she runs away, and once again she realises what she is doing to herself. When? A raindrop just splashed on my forehead and it was like a tear from heaven. Are the clouds and the skies really weeping over me? Am I really alone in the whole wide grey world? Is it possible that even God is crying for me? Oh no … no … I’m losing my mind. Please God, help me. (?) I gather from the sky that it is early morning. I’ve been reading a paper that the wind blew up beside me. It says one girl had her baby in the park, another had a miscarriage and two unidentified boys died during the night from O.D.s. Oh, how I wish one of them had been me!

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Another day I finally talked to an old priest who really understands young people. We had an endlessly long talk about why young people leave home, then he called my Mom and Dad. (…) Mom answered the phone in the family room, and Dad ran upstairs to get the extension, and the three of us almost drowned out the connection. I can’t understand how they can possibly still love me and still want me, but they do! They do! They do! They were glad to hear from me and to know I am all right. And there were no recriminations or scoldings or lectures or anything. It’s strange that when something happens to me Dad always leaves everything in the whole world and comes. I think if he were on a peace mission involving all humanity in all the galaxies he would leave to come to me. He loves me! He loves me! He loves me! He truly does! I just wish I could love myself. I don’t know how I can treat my family like I have. But I’m going to make it all up to them, I’m through with all the shit. I’m not even going to talk about it or write about it or even think about it anymore. I am going to spend the rest of my entire life trying to please them.

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Amazingly enough, Alice once again recovers. She leads a happy life and looks ahead to a better future. She never was to have a future, though. One day when her parents come home, they find her dead from an overdose. Nobody knows how or why this happened. But it happened. “Go ask Alice” is her own diary. You cannot ask Alice anything any more, but her diary is there for anybody to read and hopefully learn from.

Let’s talk! 1 How does Alice feel after the first party at Jill’s? 2 What do you think made her contact the old priest who is mentioned in the diary entry marked “Another day”? 3 Do you think Alice is a weak person? Give reasons for your answer. 4 Alice wrote her diary in the 1960s. Have things changed since then? If so, for the better or the worse? Discuss this.

www.CartoonStock.com

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5 How can we prevent young people from experimenting with drugs like Alice did? Who bears the responsibility? The young people themselves, their parents, society? Have a discussion.

Work with words 1 Alice was an American girl. How can you see that from her language when she writes: a I watched the pattern change to swirling colors b … like a drop in a fast elevator c All the dumb, idiot kids who think they are … d …, then he called my Mom and Dad. 2 How do you conjugate these irregular verbs from the text? a feel b bring c sweep d creep e show f run


Iron Eyes Cody, an American Indian, often talks to young people about the dangers of flirting with drugs. He usually tells them this legend that he heard in his youth:

“But you promised” Many years ago, Indian braves would go away in solitude to prepare for manhood. One hiked into a beautiful valley, green with trees, bright with flowers. There, as he looked up at the surrounding mountains, he noticed one rugged peak, capped with dazzling snow. I will test myself against that mountain, he thought. He put on his buffalo-hide shirt, threw his blanket over his shoulders and set off to climb the pinnacle. When he reached the top, he stood on the rim of the world. He could see forever, and his heart swelled with pride. Then he heard a rustle at his feet. Looking down, he saw a snake. Before he could move, the snake spoke. “I am about to die,” said the snake. “It is too cold for me up here, and there is no food. Put me under your shirt and take me down to the valley.” “No,” said the youth. “I know your kind. You are a rattlesnake. If I pick you up you will bite and your bite will kill me.” “Not so,” said the snake. “I will treat you differently. If you do this for me, I will not harm you.” The youth resisted awhile, but this was a very persuasive snake. At last the youth tucked it under his shirt and carried it down to the valley. There he laid it down gently. Suddenly the snake coiled, rattled and leaped, biting him on the leg. “But you promised” – cried the youth. “You knew what I was when you picked me up,” said the snake as it slithered away.

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The doomed expedition On 12 November 1912 a search party found what they had been looking for. In a small tent, half buried in the Antarctic snow, were the sad remains of three men. They were the bodies of Robert Falcon Scott, Henry Bowers and Edward Wilson who had died eight months earlier from hunger, frostbite and exhaustion on their way back from the South Pole. Somewhere between the tent and the South Pole lay the corpses of yet another two men, Edgar Evans and Lawrence Oates. They were never found. The beginning of the 20th century saw several nations preparing for major expeditions towards the poles of the earth. An American, Robert E. Peary had reached the North Pole in 1909, and this left only the South Pole to be conquered. Peary also wanted this feather in his cap, but he was not the only one. Announcements of plans were made from countries like Germany, France, Japan and Great Britain, and at a later stage also from Roald Amundsen in Norway. In Great Britain, two men tried to raise money for an expedition: Ernest Shackleton and Robert F. Scott. As it turned out, Shackleton made the first attempt at the Pole point but had to turn back for safety reasons. This left the way open for Scott. He set out for the Antarctic with his team of men, three motor sledges, some ponies and dogs plus all the food and equipment one might need for such an expedition. There were no mobile phones or helicopters in those days so, once there, any contact with the world would be impossible for a considerable period of time. It was essential they had the provisions necessary to survive the next couple of winters in the harsh and barren area of the Antarctic. On 12 October 1910 Scott’s ship, the Terra Nova, reached Melbourne. Among the mail that was waiting for them there, was an alarming telegram: Beg leave to inform you Fram proceeding Antarctic. Amundsen. Scott was clearly troubled as well as annoyed by this telegram. Roald Amundsen had declared his plans to go to the North Pole, not the South Pole. However, Peary conquering the North Pole had made him change his plans, probably because he needed some sort of triumph to pay the considerable debts he had from the preparations for the North. Also, being the first man at the South Pole was a lot better than being the second one at the North Pole. Scott was not happy at all. Now his expedition had turned out to be a race for the Pole, not the scientific expedition he had planned. Besides, the British had been the first nation to explore the Antarctic; accordingly,

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they felt they had the sole right to further exploration of the area, attempts at reaching the South Pole included. Scott and Amundsen had quite different approaches in the planning of their expeditions. Roald Amundsen was the inhabitant of a country used to harsh winters, and in addition he had made a point of learning survival techniques from the Inuit, who lived their lives in a similar climate. He was trained to use dog teams and relied on his dogs to

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pull the heavy sleighs of supplies needed for the tiresome journey towards the Pole. Scott was a Navy man. He had been in the Antarctic before, but had little experience and training with sledge dogs and mistrusted them to do the job. His plan was to use motor sledges to help establish depots along the route. Instead of dogs, he trusted ponies to pull the sledges. They would not be able to climb the last ridges up to the Pole plateau, so for the last part of the journey, the sledges would have to be man-hauled, a back-breaking job if there ever was one. Somehow, Scott felt this was a nobler way of reaching his goal and wrote in his diary: In my mind, no journey ever made with dogs can approach the height of that fine conception which is realised when a party of men go forth to face hardships, dangers, and difficulties with their own unaided efforts, and by days and weeks of hard physical labour succeed in solving some problem of the great unknown. Surely in this case the conquest is more nobly and splendidly won. On 1 November 1911, after a long Antarctic winter of preparations, Scott and his team were ready to start their major battle against the elements of the South. It was not to be an easy one. The motor sledges gave up fairly soon and they had to make do with ponies, a few dogs and their own manpower. It soon turned out that the ponies were totally unable to cope in the rough conditions. They either died from cold and exhaustion or had to be shot because they just could not continue. When some of the men from the support team turned back after a while with the dogs, there were twelve men left to pull the heavy sledges across the Antarctic ice. More men were sent back until Scott was left with just four. They were the party that was going to conquer the South Pole. They were also the five men that would not return. Scott, Oates, Wilson, Evans and Bowers still had to cover about 170 miles, hauling the last sledge through ice and snow, blizzards and cold weather. On 13 January they crossed the 89th parallel and were cheerfully positive they would now make it to the Pole. And they did, but it turned out to be a bittersweet victory. Only a day’s march from their goal they stumbled across the remains of a camp with clear tracks from sledges and dogs, many dogs. Roald Amundsen had been there before them. The last few miles were covered in silence. Here is how Scott described the event in his diary: Wednesday, 17 January 1912 (‌) The Pole. Yes, but under very different circumstances from those

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expected. We have had a horrible day. (…) We started at 7.30, none of us having slept much after the shock of our discovery. (…) Great God! This is an awful place and terrible enough for us to have laboured to it without the reward of priority. (…) Thursday morning, 18 January 1912 (…) We carried the Union Jack about 3/4 of a mile north with us and left it on a piece of stick as near as we could fix it. (…) Well, we have turned our back now on the goal of our ambition and must face our 800 miles of solid dragging – and good-bye to most of the daydreams!

After having planted the flag and photographed themselves, the men very quickly turned around and left. For the next two months they struggled along through blizzards and cold weather, temperatures being lower than in any Antarctic summer one can remember. The men were tired, hungry and frostbitten. After some weeks it was hard to keep up the speed necessary to reach the next depot in time. Rations were therefore reduced, only to make each man weaker and less capable of enduring the cold weather. The signs were not good. Evans was the first man to die, on 17 February. He kept falling behind the rest of the group and eventually just fell into a coma and died. A month later Oates realised his condition was now so bad that he was holding up the others. He begged they would leave him, but they would not. On the morning of his 32nd birthday he quietly left the tent saying, “I am just going outside and may be some time.” The others never saw him again. A raging blizzard and temperatures down to minus 50°C kept them in their tent. They were out of fuel that was essential to melt ice into water and they were down to their last food. They were only eleven

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miles from the next depot but there was no way they could get there. On 29 March Scott made the last entry in his diary: (…) I do not think we can hope for any better things now. We shall stick it out to the end, but we are getting weaker, of course, and the end cannot be far. It seems a pity, but I do not think I can write more. Eight months later Scott’s last words were cited outside a tent half buried in the snow. The leader of the search party, Edward Atkinson, then read the Burial Service and a chapter from the Bible. Accompanied by Scott’s favourite hymn, Onward Christian Soldiers, the tent was lowered over the bodies and a snow cairn built over it all. On top of the cairn they placed a pair of skis, the Norwegian expedition member Tryggve Gran’s skis. He in turn put on Robert Scott’s skis. They at least were to complete the full distance to the South Pole and back.

Let’s talk!

Work with words

1 When are the different seasons of the year in the Antarctic? 2 What do you know about Scott and Amundsen’s race towards the South Pole? 3 There are many theories as to why Roald Amundsen made it to the South Pole and back while Robert F. Scott and his party did not. What do you think about this? 4 Expeditions like Scott’s were quite clearly “on the edge” situations, given the lack of back-up and modern equipment of today. Would you say explorers of that time were heroes or foolhardy people? Have a discussion.

1 What prepositions were used in these sentences? a The search party found what they had been looking … b He set out … the Antarctic c Scott was clearly annoyed … this telegram d He had made a point of learning survival techniques … the Inuit e They either died … cold and exhaustion or had to be shot f They stumbled … the remains of a camp g He fell … a coma and died 2 Define the following words in English: a the Antarctic b a corpse c equipment d debts e exploration f a depot g a cairn

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Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

Some things in life are bad, They can really make you mad, Other things just make you swear and curse. When you’re chewing on life’s gristle, Don’t grumble, give a whistle And this’ll help things turn out for the best, And … Always look on the bright side of life. [whistle] Always look on the bright side of life. [whistle] If life seems jolly rotten, There’s something you’ve forgotten, And that’s to laugh and smile and dance and sing. When you’re feeling in the dumps, Don’t be silly chumps, Just purse your lips and whistle – that’s the thing. And … Always look on the bright side of life. [whistle] Always look on the bright side of life. [whistle] For life is quite absurd And death’s the final word. You must always face the curtain with a bow. Forget about your sin. Give the audience a grin. Enjoy it. It’s your last chance anyhow. So … Always look on the bright side of death. [whistle] Just before you draw your terminal breath. [whistle]

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Life’s a piece of shit, When you look at it. Life’s a laugh and death’s a joke, it’s true. You’ll see it’s all a show. Keep ‘em laughing as you go. Just remember that the last laugh is on you. And … Always look on the bright side of life. Always look on the right side of life. [Come on guys, cheer up!] Always look on the bright side of life! Always look on the bright side of life! [Worse things happen at sea, you know.] Always look on the bright side of life. [I mean – what have you got to lose?] [You know, you come from nothing – you’re going back to nothing. What have you lost? Nothing!] Always look on the right side of life! Eric Idle (from “Life of Brian” by Monty Python)

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