Тренировочный вариант Яндекс.ЕГЭ по английскому языку № 13 за 2014 год

It was a funny thing, a surprising thing, that brought Grandad back to me. It was algebra

I collided with algebra in my first year at secondary school, and it sent me reeling. The very word itself seemed sinister, a word from black magic. Algebracadabra. Algebra messed up one of those divisions between things that help you make sense of the world and keep it tidy. Letters make words; figures make numbers. They had no business getting tangled up together. Those as and bs and xs and ys with little numbers floating next to their heads, those brackets and hooks and symbols, all trying to conceal an answer, not give you one. I'd sit there in my own little darkness watching it dawn on the faces of my classmates. Their hands would go up – “Miss! Miss!” – and mine never did. The homework reduced me to tears.

“I don’t see the point of it,” I wailed. “I don’t know what it’s for!”

Grandad, as it turned out, liked algebra, did know what it was for. But he sat opposite me and didn’t say anything for a while. Considering my problem in that careful, expressionless way of his.

Eventually he said, “Why do you do PE at school?”

“What?”

“PE. Why do they make you do it?”

“Because they hate us?” I suggested.

“And the other reason?”

“To keep us fit, I suppose.”

“Physically fit, yes.” He reached across the table and put the first two fingers of each hand on the sides of my head. “There is also mental fitness, isn’t there?”

“I can explain to you why algebra is useful. But that is not what algebra is really for.” He moved his fingers gently on my temples. “It’s to keep what is in here healthy. PE for the head. And the great thing is you can do it sitting down. Now, let us use these little puzzles here to take our brains for a jog.”

And it worked. Not that I ever enjoyed algebra. But I did come to see that it was possible to enjoy it. Grandad taught me that the alien signs and symbols of algebraic equations were not just marks on paper. They were not flat. There were three-dimensional, and you could approach them from different directions, look at them from different angles, stand them on their heads. You could take them apart and put them together in a variety of shapes, like Lego. I stopped being afraid of them.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but those homework sessions were a breakthrough in more ways than one. If Grandad had been living behind an invisible door, then algebra turned out to be the key that opened it and let me in. And what I found wasn’t the barren tumbleweed landscape that I’d imagined. It was not like that at all.

I’d known for a long time that he was fond of puzzles. When I was younger he used to send me letters with lots of the words replaced by pictures or numbers. They always ended 02U, which meant Love to you, because zero was ‘love’ in tennis. He was often disappointed when I couldn’t work them out. Or couldn’t be bothered to. Now I discovered that Grandad’s world was full of mirages and mazes, or mirrors and misleading signs. He was fascinated by riddles and codes and conundrums and labyrinths, by the origin of place names, by grammar, by slang, by jokes – although he never laughed at them – by anything that might mean something else. He lived in a world that was slippery, changeable, fluid.

It was a funny thing, a surprising thing, that brought Grandad back to me. It was algebra.

I collided with algebra in my first year at secondary school, and it sent me reeling. The very word itself seemed sinister, a word from black magic. Algebracadabra. Algebra messed up one of those divisions between things that help you make sense of the world and keep it tidy. Letters make words; figures make numbers. They had no business getting tangled up together. Those as and bs and xs and ys with little numbers floating next to their heads, those brackets and hooks and symbols, all trying to conceal an answer, not give you one. I'd sit there in my own little darkness watching it dawn on the faces of my classmates. Their hands would go up – “Miss! Miss!” – and mine never did. The homework reduced me to tears.

“I don’t see the point of it,” I wailed. “I don’t know what it’s for!”

Grandad, as it turned out, liked algebra, did know what it was for. But he sat opposite me and didn’t say anything for a while. Considering my problem in that careful, expressionless way of his.

Eventually he said, “Why do you do PE at school?”

“What?”

“PE. Why do they make you do it?”

“Because they hate us?” I suggested.

“And the other reason?”

“To keep us fit, I suppose.”

“Physically fit, yes.” He reached across the table and put the first two fingers of each hand on the sides of my head. “There is also mental fitness, isn’t there?”

“I can explain to you why algebra is useful. But that is not what algebra is really for.” He moved his fingers gently on my temples. “It’s to keep what is in here healthy. PE for the head. And the great thing is you can do it sitting down. Now, let us use these little puzzles here to take our brains for a jog.”

And it worked. Not that I ever enjoyed algebra. But I did come to see that it was possible to enjoy it. Grandad taught me that the alien signs and symbols of algebraic equations were not just marks on paper. They were not flat. There were three-dimensional, and you could approach them from different directions, look at them from different angles, stand them on their heads. You could take them apart and put them together in a variety of shapes, like Lego. I stopped being afraid of them.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but those homework sessions were a breakthrough in more ways than one. If Grandad had been living behind an invisible door, then algebra turned out to be the key that opened it and let me in. And what I found wasn’t the barren tumbleweed landscape that I’d imagined. It was not like that at all.

I’d known for a long time that he was fond of puzzles. When I was younger he used to send me letters with lots of the words replaced by pictures or numbers. They always ended 02U, which meant Love to you, because zero was ‘love’ in tennis. He was often disappointed when I couldn’t work them out. Or couldn’t be bothered to. Now I discovered that Grandad’s world was full of mirages and mazes, or mirrors and misleading signs. He was fascinated by riddles and codes and conundrums and labyrinths, by the origin of place names, by grammar, by slang, by jokes – although he never laughed at them – by anything that might mean something else. He lived in a world that was slippery, changeable, fluid.

Great grandad

It was a funny thing, a surprising thing, that brought Grandad back to me. It was algebra.

I collided with algebra in my first year at secondary school, and it sent me reeling. The very word itself seemed sinister, a word from black magic. Algebracadabra. Algebra messed up one of those divisions between things that help you make sense of the world and keep it tidy. Letters make words; figures make numbers. They had no business getting tangled up together. Those as and bs and xs and ys with little numbers floating next to their heads, those brackets and hooks and symbols, all trying to conceal an answer, not give you one. I'd sit there in my own little darkness watching it dawn on the faces of my classmates. Their hands would go up – “Miss! Miss!” – and mine never did. The homework reduced me to tears.

“I don’t see the point of it,” I wailed. “I don’t know what it’s for!”

Grandad, as it turned out, liked algebra, did know what it was for. But he sat opposite me and didn’t say anything for a while. Considering my problem in that careful, expressionless way of his.

Eventually he said, “Why do you do PE at school?”

“What?”

“PE. Why do they make you do it?”

“Because they hate us?” I suggested.

“And the other reason?”

“To keep us fit, I suppose.”

“Physically fit, yes.” He reached across the table and put the first two fingers of each hand on the sides of my head. “There is also mental fitness, isn’t there?”

“I can explain to you why algebra is useful. But that is not what algebra is really for.” He moved his fingers gently on my temples. “It’s to keep what is in here healthy. PE for the head. And the great thing is you can do it sitting down. Now, let us use these little puzzles here to take our brains for a jog.”

And it worked. Not that I ever enjoyed algebra. But I did come to see that it was possible to enjoy it. Grandad taught me that the alien signs and symbols of algebraic equations were not just marks on paper. They were not flat. There were threedimensional, and you could approach them from different directions, look at them from different angles, stand them on their heads. You could take them apart and put them together in a variety of shapes, like Lego. I stopped being afraid of them.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but those homework sessions were a breakthrough in more ways than one. If Grandad had been living behind an invisible door, then algebra turned out to be the key that opened it and let me in. And what I found wasn’t the barren tumbleweed landscape that I’d imagined. It was not like that at all.

I’d known for a long time that he was fond of puzzles. When I was younger he used to send me letters with lots of the words replaced by pictures or numbers. They always ended 02U, which meant Love to you, because zero was ‘love’ in tennis. He was often disappointed when I couldn’t work them out. Or couldn’t be bothered to. Now I discovered that Grandad’s world was full of mirages and mazes, or mirrors and misleading signs. He was fascinated by riddles and codes and conundrums and labyrinths, by the origin of place names, by grammar, by slang, by jokes – although he never laughed at them – by anything that might mean something else. He lived in a world that was slippery, changeable, fluid.

Great grandad

It was a funny thing, a surprising thing, that brought Grandad back to me. It was algebra.

I collided with algebra in my first year at secondary school, and it sent me reeling. The very word itself seemed sinister, a word from black magic. Algebracadabra. Algebra messed up one of those divisions between things that help you make sense of the world and keep it tidy. Letters make words; figures make numbers. They had no business getting tangled up together. Those as and bs and xs and ys with little numbers floating next to their heads, those brackets and hooks and symbols, all trying to conceal an answer, not give you one. I'd sit there in my own little darkness watching it dawn on the faces of my classmates. Their hands would go up – “Miss! Miss!” – and mine never did. The homework reduced me to tears.

“I don’t see the point of it,” I wailed. “I don’t know what it’s for!”

Grandad, as it turned out, liked algebra, did know what it was for. But he sat opposite me and didn’t say anything for a while. Considering my problem in that careful, expressionless way of his.

Eventually he said, “Why do you do PE at school?”

“What?”

“PE. Why do they make you do it?”

“Because they hate us?” I suggested.

“And the other reason?”

“To keep us fit, I suppose.”

“Physically fit, yes.” He reached across the table and put the first two fingers of each hand on the sides of my head. “There is also mental fitness, isn’t there?”

“I can explain to you why algebra is useful. But that is not what algebra is really for.” He moved his fingers gently on my temples. “It’s to keep what is in here healthy. PE for the head. And the great thing is you can do it sitting down. Now, let us use these little puzzles here to take our brains for a jog.”

And it worked. Not that I ever enjoyed algebra. But I did come to see that it was possible to enjoy it. Grandad taught me that the alien signs and symbols of algebraic equations were not just marks on paper. They were not flat. There were threedimensional, and you could approach them from different directions, look at them from different angles, stand them on their heads. You could take them apart and put them together in a variety of shapes, like Lego. I stopped being afraid of them.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but those homework sessions were a breakthrough in more ways than one. If Grandad had been living behind an invisible door, then algebra turned out to be the key that opened it and let me in. And what I found wasn’t the barren tumbleweed landscape that I’d imagined. It was not like that at all.

I’d known for a long time that he was fond of puzzles. When I was younger he used to send me letters with lots of the words replaced by pictures or numbers. They always ended 02U, which meant Love to you, because zero was ‘love’ in tennis. He was often disappointed when I couldn’t work them out. Or couldn’t be bothered to. Now I discovered that Grandad’s world was full of mirages and mazes, or mirrors and misleading signs. He was fascinated by riddles and codes and conundrums and labyrinths, by the origin of place names, by grammar, by slang, by jokes – although he never laughed at them – by anything that might mean something else. He lived in a world that was slippery, changeable, fluid.

Great grandad

It was a funny thing, a surprising thing, that brought Grandad back to me. It was algebra.

I collided with algebra in my first year at secondary school, and it sent me reeling. The very word itself seemed sinister, a word from black magic. Algebracadabra. Algebra messed up one of those divisions between things that help you make sense of the world and keep it tidy. Letters make words; figures make numbers. They had no business getting tangled up together. Those as and bs and xs and ys with little numbers floating next to their heads, those brackets and hooks and symbols, all trying to conceal an answer, not give you one. I'd sit there in my own little darkness watching it dawn on the faces of my classmates. Their hands would go up – “Miss! Miss!” – and mine never did. The homework reduced me to tears.

“I don’t see the point of it,” I wailed. “I don’t know what it’s for!”

Grandad, as it turned out, liked algebra, did know what it was for. But he sat opposite me and didn’t say anything for a while. Considering my problem in that careful, expressionless way of his.

Eventually he said, “Why do you do PE at school?”

“What?”

“PE. Why do they make you do it?”

“Because they hate us?” I suggested.

“And the other reason?”

“To keep us fit, I suppose.”

“Physically fit, yes.” He reached across the table and put the first two fingers of each hand on the sides of my head. “There is also mental fitness, isn’t there?”

“I can explain to you why algebra is useful. But that is not what algebra is really for.” He moved his fingers gently on my temples. “It’s to keep what is in here healthy. PE for the head. And the great thing is you can do it sitting down. Now, let us use these little puzzles here to take our brains for a jog.”

And it worked. Not that I ever enjoyed algebra. But I did come to see that it was possible to enjoy it. Grandad taught me that the alien signs and symbols of algebraic equations were not just marks on paper. They were not flat. There were threedimensional, and you could approach them from different directions, look at them from different angles, stand them on their heads. You could take them apart and put them together in a variety of shapes, like Lego. I stopped being afraid of them.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but those homework sessions were a breakthrough in more ways than one. If Grandad had been living behind an invisible door, then algebra turned out to be the key that opened it and let me in. And what I found wasn’t the barren tumbleweed landscape that I’d imagined. It was not like that at all.

I’d known for a long time that he was fond of puzzles. When I was younger he used to send me letters with lots of the words replaced by pictures or numbers. They always ended 02U, which meant Love to you, because zero was ‘love’ in tennis. He was often disappointed when I couldn’t work them out. Or couldn’t be bothered to. Now I discovered that Grandad’s world was full of mirages and mazes, or mirrors and misleading signs. He was fascinated by riddles and codes and conundrums and labyrinths, by the origin of place names, by grammar, by slang, by jokes – although he never laughed at them – by anything that might mean something else. He lived in a world that was slippery, changeable, fluid.

Great grandad

It was a funny thing, a surprising thing, that brought Grandad back to me. It was algebra.

I collided with algebra in my first year at secondary school, and it sent me reeling. The very word itself seemed sinister, a word from black magic. Algebracadabra. Algebra messed up one of those divisions between things that help you make sense of the world and keep it tidy. Letters make words; figures make numbers. They had no business getting tangled up together. Those as and bs and xs and ys with little numbers floating next to their heads, those brackets and hooks and symbols, all trying to conceal an answer, not give you one. I'd sit there in my own little darkness watching it dawn on the faces of my classmates. Their hands would go up – “Miss! Miss!” – and mine never did. The homework reduced me to tears.

“I don’t see the point of it,” I wailed. “I don’t know what it’s for!”

Grandad, as it turned out, liked algebra, did know what it was for. But he sat opposite me and didn’t say anything for a while. Considering my problem in that careful, expressionless way of his.

Eventually he said, “Why do you do PE at school?”

“What?”

“PE. Why do they make you do it?”

“Because they hate us?” I suggested.

“And the other reason?”

“To keep us fit, I suppose.”

“Physically fit, yes.” He reached across the table and put the first two fingers of each hand on the sides of my head. “There is also mental fitness, isn’t there?”

“I can explain to you why algebra is useful. But that is not what algebra is really for.” He moved his fingers gently on my temples. “It’s to keep what is in here healthy. PE for the head. And the great thing is you can do it sitting down. Now, let us use these little puzzles here to take our brains for a jog.”

And it worked. Not that I ever enjoyed algebra. But I did come to see that it was possible to enjoy it. Grandad taught me that the alien signs and symbols of algebraic equations were not just marks on paper. They were not flat. There were threedimensional, and you could approach them from different directions, look at them from different angles, stand them on their heads. You could take them apart and put them together in a variety of shapes, like Lego. I stopped being afraid of them.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but those homework sessions were a breakthrough in more ways than one. If Grandad had been living behind an invisible door, then algebra turned out to be the key that opened it and let me in. And what I found wasn’t the barren tumbleweed landscape that I’d imagined. It was not like that at all.

I’d known for a long time that he was fond of puzzles. When I was younger he used to send me letters with lots of the words replaced by pictures or numbers. They always ended 02U, which meant Love to you, because zero was ‘love’ in tennis. He was often disappointed when I couldn’t work them out. Or couldn’t be bothered to. Now I discovered that Grandad’s world was full of mirages and mazes, or mirrors and misleading signs. He was fascinated by riddles and codes and conundrums and labyrinths, by the origin of place names, by grammar, by slang, by jokes – although he never laughed at them – by anything that might mean something else. He lived in a world that was slippery, changeable, fluid.

Great grandad

It was a funny thing, a surprising thing, that brought Grandad back to me. It was algebra.

I collided with algebra in my first year at secondary school, and it sent me reeling. The very word itself seemed sinister, a word from black magic. Algebracadabra. Algebra messed up one of those divisions between things that help you make sense of the world and keep it tidy. Letters make words; figures make numbers. They had no business getting tangled up together. Those as and bs and xs and ys with little numbers floating next to their heads, those brackets and hooks and symbols, all trying to conceal an answer, not give you one. I'd sit there in my own little darkness watching it dawn on the faces of my classmates. Their hands would go up – “Miss! Miss!” – and mine never did. The homework reduced me to tears.

“I don’t see the point of it,” I wailed. “I don’t know what it’s for!”

Grandad, as it turned out, liked algebra, did know what it was for. But he sat opposite me and didn’t say anything for a while. Considering my problem in that careful, expressionless way of his.

Eventually he said, “Why do you do PE at school?”

“What?”

“PE. Why do they make you do it?”

“Because they hate us?” I suggested.

“And the other reason?”

“To keep us fit, I suppose.”

“Physically fit, yes.” He reached across the table and put the first two fingers of each hand on the sides of my head. “There is also mental fitness, isn’t there?”

“I can explain to you why algebra is useful. But that is not what algebra is really for.” He moved his fingers gently on my temples. “It’s to keep what is in here healthy. PE for the head. And the great thing is you can do it sitting down. Now, let us use these little puzzles here to take our brains for a jog.”

And it worked. Not that I ever enjoyed algebra. But I did come to see that it was possible to enjoy it. Grandad taught me that the alien signs and symbols of algebraic equations were not just marks on paper. They were not flat. There were threedimensional, and you could approach them from different directions, look at them from different angles, stand them on their heads. You could take them apart and put them together in a variety of shapes, like Lego. I stopped being afraid of them.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but those homework sessions were a breakthrough in more ways than one. If Grandad had been living behind an invisible door, then algebra turned out to be the key that opened it and let me in. And what I found wasn’t the barren tumbleweed landscape that I’d imagined. It was not like that at all.

I’d known for a long time that he was fond of puzzles. When I was younger he used to send me letters with lots of the words replaced by pictures or numbers. They always ended 02U, which meant Love to you, because zero was ‘love’ in tennis. He was often disappointed when I couldn’t work them out. Or couldn’t be bothered to. Now I discovered that Grandad’s world was full of mirages and mazes, or mirrors and misleading signs. He was fascinated by riddles and codes and conundrums and labyrinths, by the origin of place names, by grammar, by slang, by jokes – although he never laughed at them – by anything that might mean something else. He lived in a world that was slippery, changeable, fluid.

Jack was full of energy and (A)________. He built a house and a barn and a blacksmith shop. He was a good carpenter and clever with his hands, but he never made any money. He built a machine for (B)________ wells, and he found water on other men’s land but not on his. And he invented another machine that harvested other farmers’ wheat. Other men took Jack’s ideas and made money from them, but he never did.

Men came from all over the Valley to his blacksmith shop. He (C)________ their tools and replaced their horseshoes, but he was not a businessman. His customers promised to pay him after the harvest, then after Christmas. Then they forgot and he did not know how to (D)________ them.

Men also came to his blacksmith shop just to visit Jack. They loved to listen to his rich, deep voice as he talked about the world outside the Valley. He had a good gift (E)________ telling stories, and there were always three or four men standing (F)________ him as he hammered.

Jack was a good listener and people (G)________ him with their secrets. He had some knowledge of medicine as well, and a gentle touch. He delivered all of his own children, and neighbours often called him to help with a difficult birth. There were not many doctors at that time.

Jack was full of energy and (A)________. He built a house and a barn and a blacksmith shop. He was a good carpenter and clever with his hands, but he never made any money. He built a machine for (B)________ wells, and he found water on other men’s land but not on his. And he invented another machine that harvested other farmers’ wheat. Other men took Jack’s ideas and made money from them, but he never did.

Men came from all over the Valley to his blacksmith shop. He (C)________ their tools and replaced their horseshoes, but he was not a businessman. His customers promised to pay him after the harvest, then after Christmas. Then they forgot and he did not know how to (D)________ them.

Men also came to his blacksmith shop just to visit Jack. They loved to listen to his rich, deep voice as he talked about the world outside the Valley. He had a good gift (E)________ telling stories, and there were always three or four men standing (F)________ him as he hammered.

Jack was a good listener and people (G)________ him with their secrets. He had some knowledge of medicine as well, and a gentle touch. He delivered all of his own children, and neighbours often called him to help with a difficult birth. There were not many doctors at that time.

Jack was full of energy and (A)________. He built a house and a barn and a blacksmith shop. He was a good carpenter and clever with his hands, but he never made any money. He built a machine for (B)________ wells, and he found water on other men’s land but not on his. And he invented another machine that harvested other farmers’ wheat. Other men took Jack’s ideas and made money from them, but he never did.

Men came from all over the Valley to his blacksmith shop. He (C)________ their tools and replaced their horseshoes, but he was not a businessman. His customers promised to pay him after the harvest, then after Christmas. Then they forgot and he did not know how to (D)________ them.

Men also came to his blacksmith shop just to visit Jack. They loved to listen to his rich, deep voice as he talked about the world outside the Valley. He had a good gift (E)________ telling stories, and there were always three or four men standing (F)________ him as he hammered.

Jack was a good listener and people (G)________ him with their secrets. He had some knowledge of medicine as well, and a gentle touch. He delivered all of his own children, and neighbours often called him to help with a difficult birth. There were not many doctors at that time.

Jack was full of energy and (A)________. He built a house and a barn and a blacksmith shop. He was a good carpenter and clever with his hands, but he never made any money. He built a machine for (B)________ wells, and he found water on other men’s land but not on his. And he invented another machine that harvested other farmers’ wheat. Other men took Jack’s ideas and made money from them, but he never did.

Men came from all over the Valley to his blacksmith shop. He (C)________ their tools and replaced their horseshoes, but he was not a businessman. His customers promised to pay him after the harvest, then after Christmas. Then they forgot and he did not know how to (D)________ them.

Men also came to his blacksmith shop just to visit Jack. They loved to listen to his rich, deep voice as he talked about the world outside the Valley. He had a good gift (E)________ telling stories, and there were always three or four men standing (F)________ him as he hammered.

Jack was a good listener and people (G)________ him with their secrets. He had some knowledge of medicine as well, and a gentle touch. He delivered all of his own children, and neighbours often called him to help with a difficult birth. There were not many doctors at that time.

Jack was full of energy and (A)________. He built a house and a barn and a blacksmith shop. He was a good carpenter and clever with his hands, but he never made any money. He built a machine for (B)________ wells, and he found water on other men’s land but not on his. And he invented another machine that harvested other farmers’ wheat. Other men took Jack’s ideas and made money from them, but he never did.

Men came from all over the Valley to his blacksmith shop. He (C)________ their tools and replaced their horseshoes, but he was not a businessman. His customers promised to pay him after the harvest, then after Christmas. Then they forgot and he did not know how to (D)________ them.

Men also came to his blacksmith shop just to visit Jack. They loved to listen to his rich, deep voice as he talked about the world outside the Valley. He had a good gift (E)________ telling stories, and there were always three or four men standing (F)________ him as he hammered.

Jack was a good listener and people (G)________ him with their secrets. He had some knowledge of medicine as well, and a gentle touch. He delivered all of his own children, and neighbours often called him to help with a difficult birth. There were not many doctors at that time.

Jack was full of energy and (A)________. He built a house and a barn and a blacksmith shop. He was a good carpenter and clever with his hands, but he never made any money. He built a machine for (B)________ wells, and he found water on other men’s land but not on his. And he invented another machine that harvested other farmers’ wheat. Other men took Jack’s ideas and made money from them, but he never did.

Men came from all over the Valley to his blacksmith shop. He (C)________ their tools and replaced their horseshoes, but he was not a businessman. His customers promised to pay him after the harvest, then after Christmas. Then they forgot and he did not know how to (D)________ them.

Men also came to his blacksmith shop just to visit Jack. They loved to listen to his rich, deep voice as he talked about the world outside the Valley. He had a good gift (E)________ telling stories, and there were always three or four men standing (F)________ him as he hammered.

Jack was a good listener and people (G)________ him with their secrets. He had some knowledge of medicine as well, and a gentle touch. He delivered all of his own children, and neighbours often called him to help with a difficult birth. There were not many doctors at that time.

Jack was full of energy and (A)________. He built a house and a barn and a blacksmith shop. He was a good carpenter and clever with his hands, but he never made any money. He built a machine for (B)________ wells, and he found water on other men’s land but not on his. And he invented another machine that harvested other farmers’ wheat. Other men took Jack’s ideas and made money from them, but he never did.

Men came from all over the Valley to his blacksmith shop. He (C)________ their tools and replaced their horseshoes, but he was not a businessman. His customers promised to pay him after the harvest, then after Christmas. Then they forgot and he did not know how to (D)________ them.

Men also came to his blacksmith shop just to visit Jack. They loved to listen to his rich, deep voice as he talked about the world outside the Valley. He had a good gift (E)________ telling stories, and there were always three or four men standing (F)________ him as he hammered.

Jack was a good listener and people (G)________ him with their secrets. He had some knowledge of medicine as well, and a gentle touch. He delivered all of his own children, and neighbours often called him to help with a difficult birth. There were not many doctors at that time.

A. Goodness knows how many inky embarrassments may lurk in these pages yet, but it is thanks to Dr Wiseman and all of those whom I am about to mention that there aren’t many hundreds more. I cannot begin to thank adequately those who helped me in the preparation of this book. I am especially indebted to the following, who were uniformly generous and kindly and showed the most heroic reserves of patience in answering one simple, endlessly repeated question: ‘I’m sorry, but can you explain that again?’

B. It may be that our universe is merely part of many larger universes, some in different dimensions, and the Big Bangs are going on all the time all over the place. Or it may be that space and time had some other forms altogether before the Big Bang – forms too alien for us to imagine – and that the Big Bang represents some sort of transition phase, where the universe went from a form we can’t understand to one we almost can.

C. This is a very popular Japanese form of poetry. It is brief, related to the season/nature, expresses a sense of awe or insight, written using concrete sense images and not abstractions, in the present tense. It is often written as three lines, of seventeen syllables arranged in a sequence 5, 7, 5, though not necessarily. A verbal snapshot, capturing the essence of a moment/scene. Some haiku are only a line or two. The idea is to capture a moment.

D. In April 1737, at age 52, Handel apparently suffered a stroke which disabled the use of four fingers on his right hand, preventing him from performing. In summer the disorder seemed at times to affect his understanding. Nobody expected that Handel would ever be able to perform again. But whether the affliction was rheumatism, a stroke or a nervous breakdown, he recovered remarkably quickly. To aid his recovery, Handel had travelled to Aachen, a spa in Germany. During six weeks he took long hot baths, and ended up playing the organ for a surprised audience.

E. When you sit down to dinner in a town house, your expectations will probably be governed by what you see around you. If you are in a small wooden building, dining in a small, poorly lit hall and being attended by your host’s wife, then your fare will probably be less tasty than a yeoman’s meal. If your host is an important merchant, on the other hand, and you are being entertained in the well-lit hall of a large house, then you can expect food far richer and more varied than the peasant could dream of offering.

F. Anyone who is an American citizen, at least 18 years of age, and is registered to vote may vote. Each state has the right to determine registration procedures. A number of civic groups, such as the League of Women Voters, are actively trying to get more people involved in the electoral process and have drives to register as many people as possible. Voter registration and voting among minorities has dramatically increased during the last thirty years, especially as a result of the Civil Rights Movement.

G. The Games have grown in scale to the point that nearly every nation is represented. Such growth has created numerous challenges, including boycotts, doping, bribery of officials, and terrorism. Every two years, the Olympics and its media exposure provide unknown athletes with the chance to attain national, and in particular cases, international fame. The Games also constitute a major opportunity for the host city and country to showcase itself to the world.

One of America’s great poets, Emily Dickinson belongs more to the twentieth century (A) ________. Born in Amherst, Massachusetts, 1830, Emily remained for her entire life in the town of her birth.

Other than a few infrequent trips to Boston, Washington and Philadelphia (B) ________, she was content to stay at home, finding meaning in the near-at-hand, her family, her friends, and the phenomena of nature. Though her thoughts were expressed in hundreds of poems, she remained basically an unpublished poet during her lifetime, (C) ________ until more than 25 years after her death in 1886.

In her poetry Emily Dickinson accepted the tradition of formal verse but in combinations of rarely more than four lines; she showed a disciplined control of short verse form. Her poetry was brief and to the point and powerful (D) ________. The unusual way she looks at the world coloured all her poetry. Like Walt Whitman she did not use regular rhythms and often neglected the rules of grammar (E) ________. In thought content, Emily Dickinson’s poems are far from simple; they are filled with humour, with lively ideas, and with wit.

Everything about Emily Dickinson’s poetry was original; the thought and the unusual form. In a few lines, with only a few words, (F) ________.

(1) Disabled but active It is bedtime. (2) I have managed another (PRODUCT) ________ day. (3) I answered several letters, drafted a clutch of paragraphs for my next book, brought my diary up to date, made out a programme for this year’s usual several (MEET) ________ here of the Writers’ Workshop, (PLAN) ________ and listed meals, priced (SHOP) ________ lists for next week, arranged the (HELP) ________ list of jobs and coped with all the (DEMAND) ________ on my day with much help from my friends.

(4) I go to sleep. I am never disabled in my dreams.

(1) Disabled but active It is bedtime. (2) I have managed another (PRODUCT) ________ day. (3) I answered several letters, drafted a clutch of paragraphs for my next book, brought my diary up to date, made out a programme for this year’s usual several (MEET) ________ here of the Writers’ Workshop, (PLAN) ________ and listed meals, priced (SHOP) ________ lists for next week, arranged the (HELP) ________ list of jobs and coped with all the (DEMAND) ________ on my day with much help from my friends.

(4) I go to sleep. I am never disabled in my dreams.

(1) Disabled but active It is bedtime. (2) I have managed another (PRODUCT) ________ day. (3) I answered several letters, drafted a clutch of paragraphs for my next book, brought my diary up to date, made out a programme for this year’s usual several (MEET) ________ here of the Writers’ Workshop, (PLAN) ________ and listed meals, priced (SHOP) ________ lists for next week, arranged the (HELP) ________ list of jobs and coped with all the (DEMAND) ________ on my day with much help from my friends.

(4) I go to sleep. I am never disabled in my dreams.

(1) Disabled but active It is bedtime. (2) I have managed another (PRODUCT) ________ day. (3) I answered several letters, drafted a clutch of paragraphs for my next book, brought my diary up to date, made out a programme for this year’s usual several (MEET) ________ here of the Writers’ Workshop, (PLAN) ________ and listed meals, priced (SHOP) ________ lists for next week, arranged the (HELP) ________ list of jobs and coped with all the (DEMAND) ________ on my day with much help from my friends.

(4) I go to sleep. I am never disabled in my dreams.

(1) Disabled but active It is bedtime. (2) I have managed another (PRODUCT)________ day. (3) I answered several letters, drafted a clutch of paragraphs for my next book, brought my diary up to date, made out a programme for this year’s usual several (MEET)________ here of the Writers’ Workshop, (PLAN)________ and listed meals, priced (SHOP)________ lists for next week, arranged the (HELP)________ list of jobs and coped with all the (DEMAND)________ on my day with much help from my friends.

(4) I go to sleep. (5) I am never disabled in my dreams.

(1) Disabled but active It is bedtime. (2) I have managed another (PRODUCT) ________ day. (3) I answered several letters, drafted a clutch of paragraphs for my next book, brought my diary up to date, made out a programme for this year’s usual several (MEET) ________ here of the Writers’ Workshop, (PLAN) ________ and listed meals, priced (SHOP) ________ lists for next week, arranged the (HELP) ________ list of jobs and coped with all the (DEMAND) ________ on my day with much help from my friends.

(4) I go to sleep. I am never disabled in my dreams.