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  . 30         B1B2





A YEAR IN ENGLAND

  

30       

 B1B2

    






   


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 115    B1:  ,  ,  .  1630   B2: ,  ,  .   ,    .

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 / Contents


 1. B1    

1. Tea with Milk      

2. Talking About the Weather      

3. The Pub Quiz      

4. The Full English     

5. Bicycles and Bells      

6. Trick or Treat      

7. Remember, Remember    , 

8. The Red Poppy     

9. Mind the Gap    , 

10. Up the U's!    , !

11. The Nativity     

12. Christmas in Yorkshire      

13. Oh No It Isn't!       !

14. Have You Tried Paracetamol?      ?

15. The Pancake Race     

 2. B2    

16. The Waters of Bath     

17. Jam or Cream First?       ?

18. To Be or Not to Be       

19. Hot Cross Buns      

20. May Morning     

21. Afternoon Tea     

22. The Cornish Pasty     

23. Slugs and Roses      

24. The Queue    

25. Something Borrowed    - 

26. Wordsworth's Rain     

27. Carnival    

28. Seagulls and Chips      

29. The Shambles    

30. See You in Yekaterinburg       





 1  B1

     115



STORY 1




Tea with Milk


  

The first English word Katya Belova heard on English soil was "sorry". She did not say it. A tall man in a grey coat said it to her, after she had stepped on his foot in the passport queue at Heathrow.

  ,       ,  sorry.    .                       .

"Sorry," he said again, and smiled, and moved his foot away, as if his foot were to blame.

 ,   ,    ,     .

"No, no, I'm sorry," said Katya.

 -,    ,   .

"Not at all," said the man. "My fault."

  ,   .   .

It was not his fault. It was completely her fault. But Katya was too tired to argue, so she said "sorry" one more time, just to be safe. The man said it too. Then the queue moved, and they both looked happy and a little embarrassed.

, ,   .      .       ,       sorry  .  .   ,       .

Katya was twenty-eight. She was an English teacher from Yekaterinburg, and for six years she had taught other people the difference between "a" and "the", between "have done" and "did", between "shall" and "will". She knew all the rules. She had read Dickens and Jane Austen in the original. But until today she had never been to England.

   .          ,  a   the, have done   did,  shall   will.     .       .          .

Now she had a whole year. A school in Oxford had a place for a teaching assistant from abroad, and somehow  she still did not quite believe it  they had chosen her. She would help in the classroom, learn how English children learn, and live with an English family. "Real English life," the email said. "Real English people."

       .       - ,  -              .     , ,    ,     .   ,    .  .

The queue was long, but nobody pushed. Nobody tried to push in. People waited quietly, looked at their phones and sometimes sighed, very politely. Katya counted: in forty minutes she heard "sorry" eleven times.

  ,    .     .   ,           .  :    sorry   .

At the bus station she bought a ticket to Oxford. Outside it was raining. It was not the kind of rain she knew from summers at home, loud and angry and over in ten minutes. It was thin and grey and patient, as if it had all the time in the world.

      .    .  ,    ,  ,       .   ,   ,    .

"Lovely weather," said the driver, taking her suitcase.

  ,   ,    .

Katya looked at the sky, then at the driver. He was not joking  or, if he was, his face did not show it.

   ,   .        ,       .

"Yes," she said carefully. "Lovely."

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He laughed, and she understood that she had passed some kind of test.

 ,   ,   - .

*   *   *

The bus arrived in Oxford at half past four. A man in a blue jacket stood under an umbrella with a piece of paper. On it, in big letters, someone had written: KATYA (RUSSIA). Under it, smaller: Welcome!!! The three exclamation marks were in a different colour, pink, and Katya guessed that a child had added them.

      .          .      : KATYA (RUSSIA).  , : Welcome!!!        ,   ,    .

"You must be Katya," said the man. "I'm Dave. Dave Pemberton. Good flight?"

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"Very good, thank you. How do you do?"

  , . How do you do?

Dave looked at her with interest, the way you look at a rare bird.

           .

"How do I do what?" he said, and then laughed. "Sorry, love. Only joking. Nobody's said that to me since my nan died. Come on, the car's this way."

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Katya walked to the car and opened the front door on the right. There was a steering wheel in front of her.

        .    .

"Fancy driving?" said Dave. "Go on, then. You know the way?"

   ?   .  .  ?

Her face went red. She walked round to the other side. In the car Dave explained that he was a taxi driver, so driving was his job, and that the house was in Headington, ten minutes away, "fifteen if the ring road's being silly". Every time a car came towards them on the right, Katya held her breath. Every time, nothing happened.

    .    ,   ,     ,    ,    ,  ,    .  ,     ,   .      .

"So where are you from exactly?" asked Dave.

   ,  ?   .

"Yekaterinburg."

  .

"Ekat Ekaterin Right." He was quiet for a moment. "I'll practise. Give me a year."

   .   .   .   .

*   *   *

The Pembertons lived in a narrow red-brick house in a long row of narrow red-brick houses. Each one had a small front garden, a door of a different colour and a rubbish bin by the gate. The Pembertons' door was yellow.

       ,          .     ,        .     .

The door opened before they reached it. First came a small brown dog, who ran round Katya's legs three times. Then came a girl of nine with two long black plaits. Then came a woman in a dark blue nurse's uniform, holding a tea towel.

  ,     .           .           .     -  ,     .

"Biscuit, stop it! Hello, hello, come in, you must be freezing. I'm Priya. This is Lily. Lily, say hello properly."

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"Hiya," said Lily. "Did you see my exclamation marks?"

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"I did," said Katya. "They were the best part."

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Lily decided, there and then, that Katya was all right.

    ,    .

The kitchen was small, warm and full of things: magnets on the fridge, school drawings, a calendar with a different cat for every month. Priya put the kettle on. Katya noticed that she did this before she took off her coat, before she asked any questions, before anything. Later Katya would learn that this was the law. In England, when something happens  good, bad, or just someone at the door  you put the kettle on.

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"How do you take your tea?" asked Priya.

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"With lemon, please," said Katya.

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There was a short silence. Dave and Priya looked at each other. Lily looked at Katya as if she had asked for tea with a small fish in it.

  .    .     ,       .

"We might have a lemon," said Priya bravely, and opened the fridge. There was no lemon. There was half a lime, very old and very sad.

  ,    ,       .   .         .

"Milk is fine," said Katya quickly. "Really. I want to try it the English way."

    ,    .  .   -.

Everyone looked relieved. Priya made the tea in big mugs, not small cups. She put the teabag in the mug, poured the hot water, waited, took out the teabag and added milk until the tea was the colour of wet sand. Then she asked, "Sugar?" and Dave said, "Two," before Katya could answer, and Priya said, "Not for you, for her," and Dave said, "Worth a try."

  .      ,    .    ,  , ,     ,       .  : ?    : ,       .  ,  ,   .   ,   .

Katya took a sip. She expected it to be strange. It was not strange. It was soft and warm and tasted like a blanket.

  .   - .     .   ,      .

"Well?" said Lily.

  ?   .

"It's good," said Katya, surprised. "It's really good."

 ,    .   .

Dave raised his mug as if it were a glass of champagne. "Welcome to England," he said.

    ,      ,   .

*   *   *

Her room was at the top of the house, under the roof, with a sloping ceiling and a window that looked out at other roofs and chimneys. On the bed there was a hot-water bottle in a knitted cover. On the pillow there was a drawing of a girl with a suitcase and the word KATYA, with  of course  three pink exclamation marks.

Ÿ     ,  :    ,       .       .    :      KATYA,  ,     .

Katya sat on the bed and listened. The rain was still falling, patient as before. Downstairs, someone laughed, and the dog barked once, and the kettle  she was almost sure  was on again.

     .   ,   .  - ,   ,          .

She took out a new notebook, the one she had bought at the airport in Yekaterinburg, and on the first page she wrote: Things the textbooks didn't tell me.

     ,     ,      :     .

Then, under it:

 :

1. Say "sorry" even when it is not your fault. Especially when it is not your fault.



2. Nobody says "How do you do?" Except Dave's nan.



3. No lemon. Milk. It's fine. It's actually lovely.

1.  sorry,     .     .



2.    How do you do?   .



3.  .  .   .   .

She looked at the list for a long time. Then she smiled and turned off the light. She had a whole year to fill this notebook.

     .     .     ,    .




  .


   .

   ,     (https://www.litres.ru/book/aleksandra-panfilova/god-v-anglii-30-istorii-na-angliiskom-iazyke-s-parall-74691559/)  .

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