In�this�issue:Happy�New�Year�of�SnakeGreetings�from�abroad‘If’�by�R.KiplingOur�Round�TableThose�Russians...Jokes�

This�magazine�is�for�English�language�fans!��

#1,�January�2013

The�Bridge

ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT ! NEW EURO – ENGLISH LANGUAGE (ATTACHMENT 2)

We are proud to offer for your attention our new initiative, an online bi-monthly magazine intended for students of English. You can find many interesting things including witty stories by modern writters, poems, songs, jokes and so on. The stories are written at two language levels targeting intermediate and advanced learners. Our magazine also has an English Lesson Section with written and oral assignments that will help English students test their language proficiency online. Plus there is a vast collection of the English cuisine recipes.

We have called our magazine «The Bridge» hoping it will be a real bridge to the international communication and connect English and Russian.

 There are 10 tasks with a sign of bridge in our

magazine. You will score 10 points for your correct answer. If you have 100 points, you’ll be entitled to a prize! If you are not the first you are the last.

We are seeing yet another New Year. A year of the Snake (a symbol of evolution) will start on the tenth of February. Best of luck and Happy New Year!

 We wish our new project and its team of authors the

highest possible success and outstanding academic results.

We thank Nadezhda Krivtseva and Alexander Safonov for the inspiration, valuable advice and assistance.

Dear�English�Language�Fans

Editor Irene V. Kazanskaya PhD, assistant professor,chair of foreign languages

Would you like to suggest for our madazine your ideas? You can write your answers and wait for the prize. Our mail egorterek@gmail.com

Design and computer workEgor Terek «ЭК-41»

О, если ты спокоен, не растерян,Когда теряют головы вокруг,И если ты себе остался верен,Когда в тебя не верит лучший друг. И если ждать умеешь без волненья,Не станешь ложью отвечать на ложь,Не будешь злобен, став для всех мише-нью,Но и святым тебя не назовешь.И если ты своей владеешь страстью,А не тобою властвует она,И будешь твёрд в удаче и несчастье,Которым, в сущности, одна цена.И если ты готов к тому, что словоТвое в ловушку превращает плут,И, потерпев крушенье, можешь снова,Без прежних сил, возобновить свой труд.И если можешь всё, что сталоТебе привычным, выложить на стол,Всё проиграть и вновь начать сначала,Не пожалев того, что приобрёл.И если можешь сердце, нервы, жилыТак завести, чтобы вперед нестись,Когда с годами изменяют силыИ только воля говорит: "Держись!"И если можешь быть в толпе собою,При короле с народом связь хранить,И, уважая мнение любое,Главы перед молвою не клонить.И если будешь мерить расстояньеСекундами, пускаясь в дальний бег,Тогда Земля-                      твоё, мой мальчик, достоянье.И более того, ты - Человек!

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too:

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same:

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools; If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings, And never breathe a word about your loss: If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much: If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

If О, если...

By�Joseph�Rudyard�Kipling

Translated�by�Samuil�Y.�Marshak

Editor Irene V. Kazanskaya PhD, assistant professor,chair of foreign languages

Our�Outlook!

What is the most popular book written by L. Kipling?

#1,�January�2013

Those�Russians...�

About�GOTTHARD�page�22

Jeffery�Archer�and�his�story�

page�10

about�bread�and�russians�page�18

Queen�Cakes�27�

The�Bridge

GREETINGS�FROM�ABROADHUMAN�CONSCIOUS,�DISCOURSE...OUR�ROUND�TABLE‘LUNCHEON’�BY��JEFFERY�ARCHERTHOSE�RUSSIANS...PEBBLES�OF�WISDOMPOETRYGOTTHARDLET’S�PRACTISESMILECOOKINGTHE�GERMAN�PAGETHE�FRENCH�PAGEATTACHMENT�1ATTACHMENT�2

Contents:�� 4

78101820212224262728293036

Dear professors and students of the Higher School of Economics and the Moscow Institute of Electronics and Mathematics:

I would like to congratulate you in this new step of working together to create a stronger institution. The joining of an engineering institute together with an institute with experience in economics and social sciences, opens new roads in the development of sciences and engineering. I was reading on the internet the works you are developing and was positively impressed by the way you are focusing the problems we have in this global world where we live. Of course  there will always be difficulties, but I am confident that your high qualified faculty and staff will overcome them.

I wish you the best in this coming new year. Merry Christmas and Happy 2013.Amaury A. Caballero, Ph.D., P.E.Senior LecturerDepartment of Electrical and Computer EngineeringFlorida International UniversityMiami, Florida, USA

GREETINGS

Dear colleagues,We would like to take this opportunity to wish all the staff and students

of Moscow Institute of Electronics & Mathematics a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

We hope that the coming year will bring you new successful projects and achievments, especially now when you have become part of such a famous and prestigious educational institution as Higher School of Economics. We hope that our mutual cooperation and contacts will widen and improve in future,

With best wishes and regardsDr.N.MckendrickPhD., Associate Professor in TEFLPlymouth Open Doors International Language School, UK

USA

UK

GREETINGS

Merry Christmas and Happy New Yearto all the teachers, lecturers and students of the Higher School of Economics

and MIEM !!!Once again we appreciate your participation in our research project “Higher

Education Solutions” this year. Thank you for the precious cultural information that you provided to us.

We are aware of the big changes for your staff next year, merging with the HSE. We wish you all the best with that merger, meeting new people and handling new projects. Good luck with the changes.

Inna Van Der Velden,Managing Director of the Canadian Intercultural CentreOn behalf of CIC students and staff

5

Dear friends!Best wishes for the coming 2013 New Year from Australia!!!

My name is Pavel Fedorov and I was born in Adelaide, Australia. Currently, I am 16 years old and thinking about which university to go to after finishing school. I have thought about studying in Russia.

My parents gradulated from MEIM, which recently relocated and became the Higher School of Economics. It was probably not easy to make such an enormous change. I sincerely hope that all students and professors of former MIEM will contribute to the success of the Russian education system. I know that the level of education in MIEM is very high and that it is a very respectable educational institution. I truly believe in the importance of professional qualities in pedagogues of MIEM.

I wish a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone! I hope that the New Year will bring happiness, professional development and success in everybody’s endeavours.

Very best regards,Pavel Fedorov.

Canada

Australia

We thank everybody! The letter from the USA is the most important (written by Amaury Caballero). The most useful one is from the UK (you can go there to improve your English). What a warm- hearted message is from Canada! But the most beautiful one is from Australia. Look at it!

6

7

HUMAN�CONSCIOUS,�DISCOURSE�AND�EVOLUTIONЧеловеческие сознание, речь и эволюция

В журнале “THE BRIDGE” - «МОСТ» мы постараемся перекинуть мост не только от русского языка к английскому, но и к нашему новому сознанию, к речи, являющейся одним из главных видов коммуникатив-ной деятельности человека. Во Вселенной, где мы обитаем, это энергия и величайший дар, умело пользуясь которыми, мастер может творить чудеса, словно в руке у него волшебная палочка. Речь всегда идёт бок о бок с человеческой эволюцией, и современный период развития созна-ния – это веха, о которой необходимо говорить в первую очередь.

Завершился 2012 год, о котором предупреждали ещё древние. Судь-боносный год, открывающий новые возможности человеческого созна-ния, передал свои права наступившему 2013 году Змеи, которая симво-лизирует эволюцию.

Квантовый переход достиг своего пика, и ученые с мировыми име-нами исследуют Вселенское энергоинформационное взаимодействие, в котором активную роль играет и наше с вами сознание. Наука под-тверждает, что духовность и нравственность каждого человека влияют на его жизнь в течение всего срока пребывания на планете и далее. Можно позавидовать физикам, которые могут осознать этот процесс как специалисты. Мы же будем вести речь о тех особенностях нового времени, которые касаются нашей повседневности, и знания сделают жизнь на Земле интересней и добрей.

В заключение читайте только что полученную информацию об оче-редном знаке наступивших перемен!

Irene V. Kazanskaya

СЕНСАЦИЯ! Только что появилось сообщение о создании нового евро-английского языка!

(См. ATTACHMENT 2) ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT !

On the 12th of December 2012 the Chair of Foreign Languages of Moscow Institute of Electronics and Mathematics, National Research University “Higher School of Economics” held a Round Table together with the second-year students. The topic of the Round Table was as follows: “Linguistic Diversity of the World and the Place of the Native Language”.

The students discussed the history of linguistics, the place the Russian language takes in the linguistic world, the goal of learning languages, language styles, artificial languages, English phonetics, grammar and vocabulary, etc.

All the students took an active part in the discussion. The atmosphere was warm and friendly; we were drinking English tea with Russian bread-rings and singing “Jingle Bells”.

In March we will dicuss the history of computers, programming languages, our projects and life. Welcome to us!

Elena G. Ermakovaassistant professor,

chair of foreign languages

THE�ROUND�TABLE

8

WE�ARE�LEARNING�TO�SPEAK�RUSSIANУчимся говорить по-русски

Вызовы и угрозы XXI века ставят перед преподавателями и сту-дентами задачи не только обучения профессии, развития интеллекта, но и воспитания нравственности. И здесь трудно переоценить важ-ность роли, которую играют язык, речь как средства коммуникации.

Кафедра иностранных языков использует для этого не только тра-диционные методы овладения иностранными языками, но делает по-пытку гармонизировать знания родного языка и иностранного. Одним из примеров может служить проведенный недавно «круглый стол». Такой симбиоз был вызван современным состоянием гумани-тарного образования молодого поколения и безобразным речевым этикетом в Интернете. Признавая за последним все его положитель-ные стороны, нельзя не ужаснуться форме общения в нём.

Как же добиваться осознания тайных смыслов жизни и отдельных ситуаций, когда скорость перемен в мире опережает наше понима-ние происходящего? Для этого необходимо учиться мыслить: пришла мысль – ищите слова для её выражения, проговаривайте их вслух. Такая практика вам очень пригодится в будущем. Очень часто при-ходится слышать: «Понимаю, но не могу сказать», «Нет слов». Гоголев-ский Манилов в ответ на предложение Чичикова продать «мёртвые души» чувствовал, что «ему нужно что-то сделать, предложить вопрос, а какой вопрос – чёрт его знает». Значит, не приучен был думать, мыслить.

«Я мыслю, следовательно, существую». Декарт (1596-1650)

«Нет магии сильнее, чем магия слов». А. Франс

THE�ROUND�TABLE

Не бойтесь родного языка, переходите от пассивного его знания («понимаю, но не знаю, как сказать») к активному ,т.е. ищите точный лексический эквивалент вашей мысли, запоминайте речевые форму-лы. Эти знания, навыки, сформулированная реальная цель с учётом вашего личного потенциала будут мощным стимулом для изучения иностранных языков. Только в гармонии знаний родного языка и иностранного вы обретёте жизненную силу и состоитесь как профес-сионал.

Будьте любопытны - и тогда мир откроет вам все тайны и смыслы через «магию слов».

Аntonina Y. Lushchihinaassistant professor,

chair of foreign languages

9

He is a master storyteller, the author of many novels and short stories which have all been worldwide bestsellers.We’ll publish his best stories in our journal.

Jeffrey�Archer

THE�PERSON

Jeffrey Archer was born on April 15, 1940, in the city of London. When he was three years old he wanted to be four, and when he was four he wanted to be prime minister.

He was educated at Wellington School, Somerset and Brasenose College, Oxford. In 1966 he married Mary Weeden, a fellow student at the university.

He entered the House of Commons when he was 29. But in five years he was poor as he had invested his money in a shady Canadian firm. So he decided to become a best-selling novelist as he “needed only a lot of paper and a lot of pencils” (his own words).

He soon became a darling of the Conservative Party. In 1985 he was appointed Deputy Chairman of the party but in a year a UK tabloid printed a story about him & a prostitute so he had to resign from his position though he managed to prove it was only rumor.

There were some scandal incidents in his life but he was created a Life Peer in the Queen’s Birthday Honours of 1992.

Now Jeffrey Archer lives in Cambridge with his wife and two sons.

‘THE�LUNCHEON’�(adapted)By�Jeffrey�Archer,the�best�modern�master�of�short�storyShe waved at me

across a crowded room of the St Regis Hotel in New York. I waved back realizing I knew the face but I was unable to place it. She moved past waiters and guests and had reached me before I had a chance to ask anyone who she was. I addressed that section of my brain which is meant to store people, but it transmitted no reply.

I realized I would have to use the old

party trick of carefully worded questions until her answers helped my memory."How are you, darling?" she cried, and threw her arms around me, an opening that didn't help as we were at a Literary Guild cocktail party, and anyone will throw their arms around you on such occasions, even the directors of the Book-of-the-Month Club.

From her accent she was clearly

American and looked to be approaching forty, but thanks to the genius of modern make-up might even have overtaken it. She wore a long white cocktail dress and her blonde hair was done up like a cottage loaf, so she appeared somewhat like a chess queen.

Not that the cottage pie helped because she might have had dark hair flowing to her shoulders when we last met. I do wish

11

The�original�is�on�page�30

THE�LUNCHEON

women would realize that when they change their hair style they often achieve exactly what they set out to do: look completely different to any unsuspecting male."I'm well, thank you," I said to the white queen. "And you?"

I inquired as my opening gambit."I'm just fine, darling," she replied, taking a glass of champagne from a"And how's the family?" I asked, not sure if she even had one."They're all well," she replied. No help there. "And how is Louise?" she inquired."Blooming,"

I said. So she knew my wife. But most American women are experts at remembering the names of men's wives. They have to be, when in New York they change so often it becomes a greater challenge than The Times crossword."Have you been to London lately?" I asked.

A brave question, as she might never have been to Europe."Only once since we had lunch together." She looked at me quizzically. "You don't remember who I am, do you?" she asked.I smiled."Don't be silly, Susan," I said. "How

I ever forget?" She smiled.I confess that I remembered the white queen's name in the nick of time, I certainly would never forget the lunch. I'll tell you.I had just had my first book published and the critics on both sides of the Atlantic had been complimentary, even if the checks from my publishers were less

so. My agent had told me on several occasions that I shouldn't write if I wanted to make money. This created a dilemma because I couldn't see how to make money if I didn't write.

It was around this time that the lady, who was now facing me and chattering, telephoned from New York to

12

THE�LUNCHEON

praise my novel. There is no writer

who does not enjoy receiving such calls. (Although I remember one unpleasant call of a little girl from California, she had found a spelling mistake on page forty-seven and warned me she would ring again if she discovered another.)

However, ending her

t r a n s a t l a n t i c congratulations this lady dropped her own name. It was one of those names that can always book a table at a chic restaurant or a seat at the opera which people like myself would have found impossible to achieve given a month's notice. To be fair, it was her husband's name that

had achieved the reputation, as one of the world's most distinguished film producers."When I'm next in London you must have lunch with me," came down the phone."No," said I gallantly, "you must have lunch with me.""How perfectly charming you English always are," she said.

13

I have often wondered how much American women get away with when they say those few words to an Englishman. Nevertheless, the wife of Oscar-winning producer does not phone one every day."I promise to call you when I'm next in London," she said.And indeed she did, in six months she telephoned again, this time from the Gonnaught Hotel to say how much she was looking forward to our meeting.

"Where would you like to have lunch?" I said, realizing a second too late, when she replied with the name of one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, that I should have made sure it was I who chose the place.

I was glad she couldn't see my face as she added:"Monday, one o'clock. Leave the booking to me - I'm known there."

On the day in question I put on my one respectable suit, a

new shirt which I had been saving for a special occasion since Christmas, and the only tie that looked as if it hadn't previously been used to hold up my trousers.

I then went to my bank and asked for a statement of my current account. The teller handed me a long piece of paper. I studied the figure as one who has to take a major financial decision. The bottom line stated in black lettering that I was in credit to the sum of 237 pounds and 63 p. I wrote out a check for 237 pounds and walked up to Mayfair for my luncheon date.

As I entered the restaurant I observed too many waiters and seats for my liking. You can't eat either, but you can be charged for them. At a corner table for two sat a woman who, although not young, was elegant. She wore a blouse of blue crepe-de-chine, and her blonde hair was rolled away from her face in a style that

reminded me of the war years, and had once again become fashionable.

It was clearly my transatlantic admirer, and she greeted me in the same "I've known you all my life" fashion as she was to do at the Literary Guild cocktail party years later. Although she had a drink in front of her I didn't order an aperitif, explaining that I never drank before lunch - and would like to have added, "but as soon as your husband makes a film of my novel, I will." She launched immediately into the latest Hollywood gossip.

A few minutes later a waiter materialized by the table and presented us with two large l e a t h e r menus,considerably better bound than my novel. The place positively was of unnecessaryexpense. I opened the menu and studied the first chapter with horror. I had no ideathat simple food obtained

14

THE�LUNCHEON

obtained from Covent Garden that morning could cost quite somuch by merely being transported to Mayfair.

I could buy her the same dishes fora quarter of the price at my favorite bistro, a mere one hundred yards away. Isettled down to study the long

list of French dishes which only served to remindme that I hadn't eaten well for over a month. I remembered my bank balance.

‘THE LUNCHEON’ PART 2

"What would you like?" I said gallantly."I always enjoy a light lunch," she answered. I knew that light did not necessarily mean " i n expens i v e " . She smiled sweetly up at the waiter and ordered just a sliver of smoked salmon, followed by two tiny tender lamb cutlets. Then she hesitated, but only for a moment, before adding "and a side salad".I studied the menu, running my finger down the prices, not the dishes."I also eat lightly at lunch," I said. "The chefs salad will be quite enough for me."

She chatted of Coppola and Preminger, of Al Pacino and Robert Redford, and of Greta Garbo as if she saw her all the time. She

was kind enough to stop for a moment and ask what I was working on being at present. I wanted to ask her how I was going to explain to my wife that I only have sixty-three pence left in the bank, whereas I actually discussed my ideas for another novel. She seemed impressed, but still made no reference to her husband. Should I mention him? No. Mustn't sound pushy, or as though I needed the money.

The food arrived, or that is to say her smoked salmon did, and I sat silently watching her eat my bank account. I looked up only to discover a wine waiter by my side."Would you care for some wine?" said I."No, I don't think so," she said. I smiled a little too soon: "Well,

perhaps a little something white and dry."The wine waiter handed over a second leather-bound book, this time with golden grapes on the cover. I searched down the pages for half bottles, explaining to my guest that I never drank at lunch. I chose the cheapest.

The wine waiter reappeared a moment later with a large silver bowl full of ice in which the half bottle looked so poor like me. A junior waiter cleared away the empty plate while another wheeled a large trolley to the side of our table and served the lamb cutlets and the chefs salad.

At the same time a third waiter made up a side salad for my guest which ended up bigger than my complete order. To be fair,

15

THE�LUNCHEON

the chefs salad was superb - although I confess it was hard to appreciate such food fully while trying to work out a plot for saving if I found the bill came to over ninety-seven pounds.

"How silly of me to ask for white wine with lamb," she said, having nearly finished the half bottle. I ordered a half bottle of the house red without calling for the wine list.

She finished the white wine and then launched into the theatre, music and other authors. All those who were still alive she seemed to know and those who were dead she hadn't read. I might have enjoyed the performance if it hadn't been for the fear of wondering if I would be able to afford it when the curtain came down. When the waiter cleared away the empty dishes he asked my guest if she would care for anything else. "No, thank you," she said - I nearly applauded. "Unless you have one of your famous apple

surprises.""I fear the last one may have gone, madam, but I'll go and see."Don't hurry, I wanted to say, but instead I just smiled as the rope tightened around my neck. A few moments later the waiter came back in triumph holding the apple surprise, in the palm of his hand, high above his head. I prayed to Newton that the apple would obey his law. It didn't."The last one, madam."

" Oh, what luck," she declared. "Oh, what luck," I repeated, unable to face the menu and discover the price. I was now attempting some mental arithmetic.

"Anything else, madam?" the waiter inquired. I held my breath."Just coffee," she said."And for you, Sir?""No, no, not for me." He left us. I couldn't think of an explanation for why I didn't drink coffee.

She then produced from the bag by her side a copy of my novel, which I signed with a flourish, hoping the

head waiter would see me and feel I was the sort of man who should be allowed to sign the bill as well, but he remained at the far end of the room while I wrote the words "An unforgettable meeting" and my signature.

While the dear lady was drinking her coffee I picked at another roll and called for the bill, not because I was in any particular hurry, but I preferred to wait no longer for the judge's sentence.

A man in a smart green uniform, whom I had never seen before appeared carrying a silver tray with a piece of paper on it looking not unlike my bank statement. I pushed back the edge of the check slowly and read the figure: 235 pounds and forty pence. I put my hand into my inside pocket and then placed the crisp new notes on the silver tray. The man in the green uniform returned a few moments later with my change, which I pocketed as it was the only way I was going to get a bus home.

16

THE�LUNCHEON

The waiter gave me a look that would have undoubtedly won him a character part in any film produced by the lady's distinguished husband.My guest rose and walked across the restaurant, waving at, and occasionally kissing people that I had previously only seen in glossy magazines. When she reached the door she stopped to put on her coat, a mink. I helped her on with the firr, again failing to leave a tip. As we stood on the Curzon Street pavement, a dark blue Rolls-Royce drew up beside us and a liveried chauffeur opened the door. She climbed

in."Goodbye, darling," she said, as the electric window slid down. "Thank you for such a lovely lunch.""Goodbye," I said, "I do hope when you are next in town I shall have the opportunity of meeting your distinguished husband.""Oh, darling, didn't you know?" she said as she looked out from the R o l l s - R o y c e . " K n o w what?» "We were divorced ages ago.""Divorced?" said I."Oh, yes," she said, "I haven't spoken to him for years."I just stood there looking helpless."Oh, don't worry yourself on my account," she said. "He's

no loss. In any case I have recently married again" - another film producer, I prayed - "In fact, you see, he owns the restaurant.«Without another word the electric window slid up and the Rolls-Royce started leaving me to walk to the nearest bus stop. As I stood surrounded by Literary Guild guests, staring at the white queen with the cottage pie, I could still see her in that blue Rolls-Royce. I tried to concentrate on her words.I "I knew you wouldn't forget me, darling," she was saying. "After all, I did take you to lunch, didn't I?»

Please, put the following events into the order in which they took place.

1. He paid all his money for lunch with her. 2. She called him to praise his book. 3. They met in London. 4. They met in New York. 5. The main character wrote his first book.

17

THE�LUNCHEON

See Attachment 1 for the original text of story.

Those�Russians...�

Then there are бублики (soft ring-shaped rolls); баранки (hard ring-shaped rolls and slang for a car steering wheel); сушки (very, very hard ring-shaped rolls, something like pretzels); and калачи (soft rolls that look like an old-fashioned lock or a purse with a handle). Not to mention лаваш (lavash), which refers to several varieties of white breads made traditionally in the Caucasus that can be as thin as a piece of paper (in Moscow this is often called армянский -- Armenian) or thick (often called грузинский - Georgian). And now you can also find французский багет (French baguette), which should not be confused with what is produced in багетная мастерская. This might sound like a French bakery, but it's actually a studio for framing pictures.

The first thing you learn is the difference between белый (white) bread and чёрный (black) bread, which is really not black at all; it's what we foreigners call brown, rye or pumpernickel bread. Life's a dream until you go to St. Petersburg, where хлеб only means brown bread, and white bread is called булка (a roll elsewhere in Russia) or батон (a loaf everywhere else). The phrase Сходи в булоч-ную и купи хлеба и булку means in St. Petersburg, "Go to the bakery and buy some rye bread and a loaf of white," while in Penza it means, "Go to the bakery and buy some bread and a roll."

Хлебное место: a cushy job, a good trading spot, a money-producer. You probably never thought much about bread until you came to Russia. But хлеб (bread) in Russia is serious business, and linguistically a bit confusing. It's definitely more than just the stuff on the outside of a sandwich.

By�Michele�A.�Berdy�

Хлеб also refers to grain in general, so the question, Хороший хлеб, но как его убрать? doesn't mean the baffling, "This is good bread, but how can we clean it up?" but rather, "The grain is good, but how are we going to harvest it?"

18

Хлеб is synonymous with the means of survival or livelihood. Надо зарабаты-вать себе на хлеб means "I need to make a living" (literally "to earn money for bread"). Он лишил её куска хлеба means, "He took away her means of livelihood" (literally, he deprived her of a piece of bread).

But beware -- False Friend Alert: Да, работа скучная, но это мой хлеб. (Yes, the work is boring, but it's my bread and butter.) In English, the expression "bread and butter" means a basic source of income, but in the Russian the expression зарабатывать на кусок хлеба с маслом (literally "to work for a piece of bread with butter") means to earn enough for some luxury.

Anything that is income-producing is хлебный, either in reference to a specific place (that is good for trade) or a job that lets you rake in the dough. Это хлебное место. (That's a cushy job.) Or: Для работников ГАИ этот перекрё-сток - хлебное место. (For the traffic cops this intersection is a great money-producer, i.e. a good place for taking in fines.)

But: не хлебом единым жив человек. (Man does not live by bread alone.) In fact, bread can be downright spiritual: У вас хлеба духовного просят! (They're asking you for spiritual sustenance!) Finally, when bread is combined with

salt, it's the traditional sign of Russian hospitality. Хлеб да соль (bread and salt) were two things every peasant wanted: bread as the basic, salt as the luxury. The adjective from these two foodstuffs is a nice old-fashioned word that means "hospitable." Мы часто ходим к ним в гости - они хлебосоль-ные, всегда рады гостям. (We often visit them -- they're hospitable, always happy to see guests.)

And this leads to a Hostess Alert: Хлеб на столе -- и стол престол, а хлеба ни куска - и стол доска. (When there's bread on the table, it's a throne, but when there's no bread on the table, it's just a board.)

Michele�A.�Berdy�is�a�Moscow-based�translator�and�interpreter.�

19

What do the foreigners think of us?

Learning is a natural human trait (черта). (Sadguru)

Learning something that we didn’t know should make us joyful. But if learning is making pupils miserable, then teachers have not understood how to impart (передавать) learning. (Sadguru)

Almost everything that a child learns is by example.If you do not set an example of joy, and you only talk about joy, it doesn’t mean anything. It is like a blind man talking about light. (Sadguru)

The whole art of being a Guru is just this: to constantly punctuate people's ego amd still manage to remain their friend. (Sadguru)

“Men learn while they teach.” (Seneca)

“I’m always ready to learn. I don’t always like being taught.” (Churchill)

“I am not young enough to know everything.” (Rogers)

Which quotation did you like most of all and why?

PEBBLES�OF�WISDOM

21

Let’s�enjoy�these�fine�quotations

I WISH FOR YOU...

Comfort on difficult days,Smiles when sadness intrudes,Rainbows to follow the clouds,Laughter to kiss your lips,Sunsets to warm your heart,Gentle hugs when spirits sag,Friendships to brighten your being,Beauty for your eyes to see,Confidence for when you doubt,Faith so that you can believe,Courage to know yourself,Patience to accept the truth,And love to complete your life.

And if you can't have all that...Then I wish you enough chocolateto make it through the tough times...

Я ВАМ ЖЕЛАЮ…

Покоя, утешенья в дни ненастья,Улыбок, если в дом вошла печаль,Закатов - в умягченье сердца страсти,За тучей - радугой раскрашивайте даль.

Пусть Дух в объятьях нежных воспаряет,Пусть лёгкий смех целует вам устаИ круг друзей любимых - озаряет,И проясняет зренье - красота.

Уверенности - покорять сомненьяИ веры - той, что каждому своя,И нет принятья правды без терпенья,И без отваги не познать себя.А главное - живите все-лю-бя!

Но коли нет всего того, что надо…То и тогда имеется отрада:Пойти откушать вдоволь шоколада…

Translated by Irene V. Kazanskaya

The author is unknown

AS MUCH AS YOU CAN

Even if you cannot shape your life as you want it,at least try thisas much as you can; do not debase itin excessive contact with the world,in the excessive movements and talk.

Do not debase it by taking it,dragging it often and exposing itto the daily follyof relationships and associations,until it becomes burdensome as an alien life.Constantine P. Cavafy (1913)

We invite you to take part in our competition. Send us your translation of the following poem, please

We'll tell you about this poet next time

POETRYThis�poem�is�addressed�to�you,�our�dear�readers�

Would you send us your translation?

Gotthard is a Swiss hard rock/heavy metal band founded in Lugano by Steve Lee and Leo Leoni. Their last eleven albums have all reached number 1 in the Swiss album charts, making them one of the most successful Swiss acts ever. With 2 million albums sold, they managed to get multi-platinum awards in different parts of the world. The band takes its name from the Saint-Gotthard Massif.

Gotthard recently toured with Whitesnake and played at Arrow Rock Festival in Holland.

Singer Steve Lee died in a motorcycle accident on October 5, 2010.On November 11, 2011, Gotthard announced a new singer, Nic Maeder,

through their official Facebook page and their website with their new song "Remember It's Me", downloadable for free.

Gotthard

Influences include Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Whitesnake, Deep Purple, Bon Jovi, Van Halen and Aerosmith. Singer Steve Lee was especially fond of Whitesnake.

Gotthard also performed "Immigrant Song" (originally by Led Zeppelin) live and it featured exclusively on a CD by Classic Rock (a long running monthly UK rock magazine). "Hush" was also performed live and can be found on the Made In Switzerland and "D frosted" albums.

They have also covered songs from Bob Dylan, The Hollies, Manfred Mann and The Move.In 2008, Gotthard was supporting act for one of their favourite bands Deep Purple, during

Deep Purple's German Tour. They also played at the Magic Circle Music Festival alongside bands such as Manowar, Alice Cooper, Doro and W.A.S.P. in Bad Arolsen, Germany.

Gotthard also opened up for US rock band Bon Jovi in Switzerland, Germany and Italy and for Canadian rock act Bryan Adams.

Influences

22

a�piece�of�music

Death�of�Steve�Lee

On Oct. 5th 2010, Steve Lee died in a crash while driving his motorbike in the United States.

"The world has lost one of its greatest rock singers: GOTTHARD frontman Steve Lee was killed accidentally during a motorcycle trip in the USA on Interstate 15 between Mesquite and Las Vegas and died at the scene.

"The GOTTHARD singer had flown to the U.S. with some biker friends just this weekend to fulfill a long-cherished dream for which he'd never had the time due to his heavy touring schedule for many years. It was to be two weeks through the States on a Harley-Davidson.

"The 21 Swiss bikers started their journey on Sunday on a total of 12 motorcycles. On Tuesday, October 5, about 50 miles from Las Vegas, the group had stopped at the roadside to put on their rain gear as it had started to rain. On the slippery road, the trailer of a passing truck began to skid. The driver attempted evasive action but his trailer clipped five of the motorcycles parked at the roadside; one of them hit Steve Lee. Rescue services attempted resuscitation but efforts were stopped after 20 minutes. At 16:13 local time, Steve Lee was pronounced dead

Too much for Very much

He likes the cinema too much.

He is too much stronger than I am.

I was too much astonished at the news.

Don’t say

Don’t say: Last night I went to bed lately.Say: Last night I went to bed late.

The opposite of “early” is “late”, not “lately”, not “lately”.“Lately” means in recent times as, “I haven’t been there lately”.

Just now for Gradually.

“Very much” is used instead of “much” for greater emphasis. “Too much” denotes an excessive quantityof degree: as “He ate too much, and became ill.”

NOTE. “Much” and “very much” cannot be used with certain verbs like “work”, “try”, “rain”, “think”, “to be hurt”, “to be injured.” The opposite of “early” is “late”,not “lately”. Thus we say: “ He works very hard”; “He tried very hard”; “It’s raining hard”; “He thinks deeply”; “He was badly hurt”; “He was seriously injured.”

He likes the cinema very much.

He is very much stronger than I am.

I was very much astonished at the news.

Say

“Gradually” means slowly or little by little; “by and by” means soon or after a little while: as, “By and by the school year will be over.”

Don’t say: It’s learning to walk by and by. Say: It’s gradually learning to walk

Lately for Late.

{{

Common�mistakes�in�English

24

LET’S�PRACTISE

LET’S�PRACTISE

25

A Test (open the brackets)

1. He (to go) to the Public Library very often when he (to be) a student next year.2. You (ever to be) to Italy? When you (to be) there?3. This student (много работает) so he is the best in the group.4. I (just to get) a letter from Tom. (+ 4 questions)5. You (not to hear yet) this symphony?6. He (to translate) the whole text by eleven o’clock yesterday.7. You often (to invite) by your friends to a concert. (+ 4 questions)8. There must (to be) more problems in winter.9. It (может) be about 6 o’clock, but I’m not sure.10. “The chef’s salad will be quite enough for me,” said he. (Переделайте это предложение в косвенную речь.)

B Translate into Russian

1) to break, broke, broken, being broken.2)He is unlikely to have passed the exam.

Idioms + your work Using three or four idioms write your own funny story and send

us. The best ones will be in our magazine:

cry over the moon - желать невозможногоcatch someone red-handed - поймать кого-то с поличнымgo to pieces - быть очень расстроеннымit serves him right - так ему и надоstrike home - не в бровь, а в глаз

SMILE

26

SMILE!Dear Dad Letter

A father passing by his son's bedroom, was astonished to see the  bed was nicely made and everything was tidied away. Then he saw an envelope on the  pillow. It was addressed "Dad". With the worst premonition, he opened the letter and, with trembling hands, began to read the letter.

‘Dear Dad, It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing to you. I have had to escape with my new girlfriend, because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mum and you.

I've found real passion with Stacey and she is so nice, but I knew you wouldn’t approve of her because of all her piercings, tattoos, and motorcycle leathers, and because she is so much older than me. But it's not only the passion, Dad – she’s pregnant but Stacey said we will be very happy. She owns a caravan in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children. Stacey has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn’t really hurt anyone. We’ll be growing it ourselves and trading it with other people in the commune for all the cocaine and ecstasy we want.

Then we’ll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS, so that Stacey can get better. She sure deserves it.

Don’t worry Dad, I’m 15 and I know how to take care of myself. Someday, we’ll be back to visit so you can get to know your many

grandchildren. Your loving son – Joshua P.S. – Dad, none of the above is true. I’m, over at John's house. I

just wanted to remind you that there are worse thing in life than the school report that’s on the kitchen table. Call me when it is safe to come home.’

Queen Cakes

Ingredients Dish: 12 paper cake cases and patty tin

100 g (4 oz) sugar100 g (4 oz) butter or margarine2 eggs, beaten100 g (4 oz) self-raising flour50 g (2 oz) sultanas Cream together the fat and sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the eggs

a little at a time, beating well after each addition. Fold in the flour and then the fruit and fill the paper cases two third

full with mixture. Cook on 180 C for 35 minutes. Leave until cool.

COOKING

Cook�these�queen�cakes�and�help�yourself!

Ich bin Sprachforscher, dem alle Mathematik fernliegt, begann ein älterer Mann, der jetzt an der Reihe war, eine Denkaufgabe zu stellen. “Erwarten Sie also keine Rechenaufgabe von mir. Ich kann nur eine Frage aus dem mir bekannten Gebiet aufwerfen. Erlauben Sie, dass ich meine Aufgabe aus dem Kalender stelle?”

“Bitte sehr!”“Der zwölfte Monat des Jahres wird Dezember genannt. Wissen aber

auch, was das Wort Dezember bedeutet? Es kommt vom lateinischen Wort “decem”, das heißt zehn, und von diesem sind auch die Worte “Dezimeter” (das ist ein Zehntelmeter), Dezimalsystem und andere mit zehn zusammengesetzten Bezeichnungen abgeleitet. Es ergibt sich hieraus, dass der Dezember als zehnter Monat bezeichnet wird. Wie ist diese Unstimmigkeit zu erklären?”

Auflösung der Denkaufgabe

Unser Kalender ist aus dem Kalender der alten Römer hervorgegangen. Die alten Römer aber begannen das Jahr (bis zu Julius Gäsar) nicht mit dem 1. Januar, sondern mit dem 1. März. Infolgedessen war der Dezember der zehnte Monat damals. Nach der Verlegung des Jahresbeginns auf den 1. Januar im Jahre 46 vor unserer Zeitrechnung blieben die Monatsnamen unverändert. Hierauf ist es zurückzuführen, dass bei einigen Monaten eine Unstimmigkeit zwischen ihren Namen und ihrer Stellung im Jahresablauf besteht, wie es aus der nachstehenden Tabelle hervorgeht.

Name des MonatsBedeutung9. Monat September………………………….siebenter10. Monat Oktober ……………………………achter11. Monat November………………………….neunter12. Monat Dezember …………………………zehnter

Svetlana V. Travkina assistant professor,

chair of foreign languages

THE�GERMAN�PAGE

Weihnacht

Schon dunkelt es.Die letzten Käufer eilenmit langen Schrittenihren Stuben zu.Ein stilles Liedsingt durch die Straßenzeilenund läßt die Menschenkurze Zeit verweilen –dann geht die Stadt,die große Stadt, zur Ruh’.

Doch klingt das Lied,als könne es nicht enden,von Haus zu Hausund über Tal und Tann.Es wird zum Gruß,den sich die Menschen senden,und wird zur Tatin ungezählten Händen,das stille Lied,das nie verklingen kann:

Der Friede wohne immerdar auf Erden.Wer ihn beschützt,der schützt das Leben gut.Was lang nicht war,das soll doch endlich werden:ein Leben, freivon drohenden Beschwerden –der Friede ruhedrum in unserer Hut.

J.Gerlach

�THE�FRENCH�PAGE

Valeria I. Horoshilovaassistant professor,

chair of foreign languages 29

She waved at me across a crowded room of the St Regis Hotel in New York. I waved back realising I knew the face but I was unable to place it. She squeezed past waiters and guests and had reached me before I had a chance to ask anyone who she was. I racked that section of my brain which is meant to store people, but it transmitted no reply. I realised I would have to resort to the old party trick of carefully worded questions until her answers jogged my memory.

"How are you, darling?" she cried, and threw her arms around me, an opening that didn't help as we were at a Literary Guild cocktail party, and anyone will throw their arms around you on such occasions, even the directors of the B o o k - o f - t h e - M o n t h Club. From her accent she was clearly American and looked to be approaching forty,

but thanks to the genius of modern make-up might even have over-taken it. She wore a long white cocktail dress and her blonde hair was done up in one of those buns that looks like a cottage loaf. The overall effect made her appear somewhat like a chess queen. Not that the cottage loaf helped because she might have had dark hair flowing to her shoulders when we last met. I do wish women would realise that when they change their hair style they often achieve exactly what they set out to do: look completely different to any unsuspecting male.

"I'm well, thank you," I said to the white queen. "And you?" I inquired as my opening gambit.

"I'm just fine, darling," she replied, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"And how's the

family?" I asked, not sure if she even had one.

"They're all well," she replied. No help there. "And how is Louise?" she inquired.

"Blooming," I said. So she knew my wife. But then not necessarily, I thought. Most American women are experts at remembering the names of men's wives. They have to be, when on the New York circuit they change so often it becomes a greater challenge than The Times crossword.

"Have you been to London lately?" I roared above the babble. A brave question, as she might never have been to Europe.

"Only once since we had lunch together." She looked at me quizzically. "You don't remember who I am, do you?" she asked as she devoured a cocktail sausage.

ATTACHMENT 1‘The Luncheon’ by J. Archer (in the original)

THE�LUNCHEON

30

I smiled."Don't be silly,

Susan," I said. "How could I ever forget?"

She smiled.I confess that I

remembered the white queen's name in the nick of time. Although I still had only vague recollections of the lady, I certainly would never forget the lunch.

I had just had my first book published and the critics on both sides of the Atlantic had been compli-mentary, even if the cheques from my publishers were less so. My agent had told me on several occasions that I shouldn't write if I wanted to make money. This created a dilemma because I couldn't see how to make money if I didn't write.

It was around this time that the lady, who was now facing me and chattering on oblivious to my silence, telephoned from New York to heap lavish praise on my novel. There is no writer who does not enjoy receiving such

calls, although I confess to having been less than captivated by an eleven-year-old girl who called me collect from California to say she had found a spelling mistake on page forty-seven and warned me she would ring again if she dis-covered another. However, this particular lady might have ended her t r a n s a t l a n t i c congratulations with nothing more than goodbye if she had not dropped her own name. It was one of those names that can, on the spur of the moment, always book a table at a chic restaurant or a seat at the opera which mere mortals like myself would have found impossible to achieve given a month's notice. To be fair, it was her husband's name that had achieved the reputation, as one of the world's most dis-tinguished film producers.

"When I'm next in London you must have lunch with me," came crackling down the

phone."No," said I

gallantly, "you must have lunch with me."

"How perfectly charming you English always are," she said.

I have often wondered how much American women get away with when they say those few, words to an Englishman. Nevertheless, the wife of Oscar-winning producer does not phone one every day.

"I promise to call you when I'm next in London," she said.

And indeed she did, for almost six months to the day she telephoned again, this time from the Gonnaught Hotel to declare how much she was looking forward to our meeting.

"Where would you like to have lunch?" I said, realising a second too late, when she replied with the name of one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, that I should have made sure it was I who chose the venue. I was glad she

�THE�LUNCHEON

31

couldn't see my forlorn face as she added with unabashed liberation:

"Monday, one o'clock. Leave the booking to me - I'm known there."

On the day in question I donned my one respectable suit, a new shirt which I had been saving for a special occasion since Christmas, and the only tie that looked as if it hadn't previously been used to hold up my trousers. I then strolled over to my bank and asked for a statement of my current account. The teller handed me a long piece of paper unworthy of its amount. I studied the figure as one who has to take a major financial decision. The bottom line stated in black lettering that I was in credit to the sum of thirty-seven pounds and sixty-three pence. I wrote out a cheque for thirty-seven pounds. I feel that a gentleman should always leave his account in credit, and I might add it was a

belief that my bank manager shared with me. I then walked up to Mayfair for my luncheon date.

As I entered the restaurant I observed too many waiters and plush seats for my liking. You can't eat either, but you can be charged for them. At a corner table for two sat a woman who, although not young, was elegant. She wore a blouse of powder blue crepe-de-chine, and her blonde hair was rolled away from her face in a style that reminded me of the war years, and had once again become fashionable. It was clearly my transatlantic admirer, and she greeted me in the same "I've known you all my life" fashion as she was to do at the Literary Guild cocktail party years later. Although she had a drink in front of her I didn't order an aperitif, explaining that I never drank before lunch - and would like to have added, "but as soon as your husband makes a film of my novel, I will."

She launched immediately into the latest Hollywood gossip, not so much dropping names as reciting them, while I ate my way through the crisps from the bowl in front of me. A few minutes later a waiter materialised by the table and presented us with two large embossed leather menus, considerably better bound than my novel. The place posi-tively reeked of unnecessary expense. I opened the menu and studied the first chapter with horror; it was eminently putdownable. I had no idea that simple food obtained from Covent Garden that morning could cost quite so much by merely being transported to Mayfair. I could have bought her the same dishes for a quarter of the price at my favourite bistro, a mere one hundred yards away, and to add to my discomfort I observed that it was one of 1 those restaurants where the guest's menu made no mention of the prices.

32

�THE�LUNCHEON

. I settled down to study the long list of French dishes which only served to remind me that I hadn't eaten well for over a month, a state of affairs that was about to be prolonged by a further day. I remembered my bank balance and morosely reflected that I would probably have to wait until my agent sold the Icelandic rights of my novel before I could afford a square meal again.

"What would you like?" I said gallantly.

"I always enjoy a light lunch," she volunteered. I sighed with premature relief, only to find that light did not necessarily mean "inexpensive".

She smiled sweetly up at the waiter, who looked as if he wouldn't be wondering where his next meal might be coming from, and ordered just a sliver of smoked salmon, followed by two tiny tender lamb cutlets. Then she hesitated, but only for a moment, before adding "and a side salad".

I studied the menu

with some caution, running my finger down the prices, not the dishes.

"I also eat lightly at lunch," I said mendaciously. "The chef's salad will be quite enough for me." The waiter was obviously affronted but left peaceably.

She chatted of Coppola and Preminger, of Al Pacino and Robert Redford, and of Greta Garbo as if she saw her all the time. She was kind enough to stop for a moment and ask what I was working on being at present. I would have liked to have replied - on her the how I was going to explain to my wife that I only have sixty-three pence left in the bank; whereas I actually discussed my ideas for another novel. She seemed impressed, but still made no reference to her husband. Should I mention him? No. Mustn't sound pushy, or as though I needed the money.

The food arrived, or that is to say her smoked salmon did, and I sat silently

watching her eat my bank account while I nibbled a roll. I looked up only to discover a wine waiter hovering by my side.

"Would you care for some wine?" said I, recklessly.

"No, I don't think so," she said. I smiled a little too soon: "Well, perhaps a little something white and dry."

The wine waiter handed over a second leather-bound book, this time with golden grapes embossed on the cover. I searched down the pages for half bottles, explaining to my guest that I never drank at lunch. I chose the cheapest. The wine waiter reappeared a moment later with a large silver salver full of ice in which the half bottle looked drowned, and, like me, completely out of its depth. A junior waiter cleared away the empty plate while another wheeled a large trolley to the side of our table and served the lamb cutlets and the chef's salad. At the same time a third waiter made up an exquisite side salad

33

THE�LUNCHEON

for my guest which ended up bigger than my complete order. I didn't feel I could ask her to swap.

To be fair, the chefs salad was superb - although I confess it was hard to appreciate such food fully while trying to work out a plot that would be convincing if I found the bill came to over thirty-seven pounds.

"How silly of me to ask for white wine with lamb," she said, having nearly finished the half bottle. I ordered a half bottle of the house red without calling for the wine list.

She finished the white wine and then launched into the theatre, music and other authors. All those who were still alive she seemed to know and those who were dead she hadn't read. I might have enjoyed the performance if it hadn't been for the fear of wondering if I would be able to afford it when the curtain came down. When the waiter cleared away the empty dishes he asked my guest if she would care

for anything else."No, thank you," she

said - I nearly applauded. "Unless you have one of your famous apple sur-prises."

"I fear the last one may have gone, madam, but I'll go and see."

Don't hurry, I wanted to say, but instead I just smiled as the rope tightened around my neck. A few moments later the waiter strode back in triumph weaving between the tables holding the apple sur-prise, in the palm of his hand, high above his head. I prayed to Newton that the apple would obey his law. It didn't.

"The last one, madam."

"Oh, what luck," she declared.

"Oh, what luck," I repeated, unable to face the menu and discover the price. I was now attempting some mental arithmetic as I realised it was going to be a close run thing.

"Anything else, madam?" the ingratiating waiter

inquired.I took a deep breath."Just coffee," she

said."And for you, Sir?""No, no, not for me."

He left us. I couldn't think of an explanation for why I didn't drink coffee.

She then produced from the large Gucci bag by her side a copy of my novel, which I signed with a flourish, hoping the head waiter would see me and feel I was the sort of man who should be allowed to sign the bill as well, but he resolutely remained at the far end of the room while I wrote the words "An unforgettable meeting" and appended my signature.

While the dear lady was drinking her coffee I picked at another roll and called for the bill, not because I was in any particular hurry, but like a guilty defendant at the Old Bailey I preferred to wait no longer for the judge's sentence. A man in a smart green uniform, whom I had never seen before appeared

34

THE�LUNCHEON

carrying a silver tray with a folded piece of paper on it looking not unlike my bank statement. I pushed back the edge of the check slowly and read the figure: thirty-six pounds and forty pence. I casually put my hand into my inside pocket and withdrew my life's possessions and then placed the crisp new notes on the silver tray. They were whisked away. The man in the green uniform returned a few moments later with my sixty pence change, which I pocketed as it was the only way I was going to get a bus home. The waiter gave me a look that would have undoubtedly won him a character part in any film produced by the lady's distinguished husband.

My guest rose and walked across the restaurant,; waving at, and occasionally kissing people that I had previously only seen in

glossy magazines. When she reached the door she stopped to retrieve her coat, a mink. I helped her on with the fur, again failing to leave a tip. As we stood on the Curzon Street pavement, a dark blue Rolls-Royce drew up beside us and a liveried chauffeur leaped out and opened the rear door. She climbed in.

"Goodbye, darling," she said, as the electric window slid down. "Thank you for such a lovely lunch."

"Goodbye," I said, and summoning up my courage added: "I do hope when you are next in town I shall have the opportunity of meeting your distinguished husband."

"Oh, darling, didn't you know?" she said as she looked out from the Rolls-Royce.

"Know what?""We were divorced

ages ago.""Divorced?" said I."Oh, yes," she said

gaily, "I haven't spoken

to him for years."I just stood there

looking helpless."Oh, don't worry

yourself on my account," she said. "He's no loss. In any case I have recently married again" - another film producer, I prayed -"In fact, I quite expected to bump into my husband today - you see, he owns the restaurant."

Without another word the electric window purred up and the Rolls-Royce glided effortlessly out of sight leaving me to walk to the nearest bus stop.

As I stood surrounded by Literary Guild guests, staring at the white queen with the cottage loaf bun, I could still see her drifting away in that blue Rolls-Royce. I tried to concentrate on her words.

"I knew you wouldn't forget me, darling," she was saying. "After all, I did take you to lunch, didn't I?"

35

THE�LUNCHEON

Please, compare the main character’s bank account in the adapted version and this one.

Absolutely Brilliant The European Commission has just announced an agreement

whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, which was the other possibility.

As part of the negotiations, the British Government сonceded that English

spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5- year phase-in plan that would become known as "Euro-English".

In the first year, "s" will replace the soft "c".. Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy. The hard "c" will be dropped in favour of "k". This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter.

There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced with "f".. This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter.

In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.

Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.

Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent "e" in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away.

By the 4th yer people wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" with "z" and "w" with "v".

During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vordskontaining "ou" and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensi bl riten styl.

Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi TU understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.

Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.

If zis mad you smil, pleas pas on to oza pepl.

�ATTACHMENT�2

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