4.28.2017
4.25.2017
Great Expectations - Charles Dickens - Chapter four
Mrs Joe is busy doing the arrangements for Christmas day when Pip comes back from the Battery. She asks him where he was, and he answers that he was hearing the Carols. Joe is in the kitchen as well, trying to avoid Mrs Joe "cross temper"
Dickens writes with his sense of humour, describing when they have breakfast, served by Mrs Joe."So, we had our slices served out, as if we were two thousand troops on a forced march instead of a man and boy at home..."
Pip describes the way that Mr Joe dresses as being quite unconventional."Nothing that he wore then, fitted him or seemed to belong to him; and everything that he wore then, grazed him".
Also, he describes the way that Mrs Joe insisted on wearing him like a boy coming from the Reformatory, reaffirming his feelings that "I was always treated as if I had insisted on being born, in opposition to the dictates of reason, religion, and morality".
Joe and Pip go to the mass at the church, and there they meet Mr Wopsle, the clerck of the church, as well as Mr Hubble, the wheelwright, and Mrs Hubble. Likewise Uncle Pumblechook. All of them were invited to have dinner at Mrs Joe's house. When Joe and Pip got home, "they found the table laid, and Mrs. Joe dressed, and the dinner dressing, and the front door unlocked (it never was at any other time) for the company to enter by, and everything most splendid"
At that moment, Pip is well worried about the last night robbery, but there is no signal that anyone had discovered something about.
Mr Wopsle is the first to arrive, in sequence, came Mr and Mrs Hubble and last, Uncle Pumblechook, who Pip was not allowed to call uncle. Uncle Pumblechook is described as "a large hardbreathing middle-aged slow man, with a mouth like a fish, dull staring eyes, and sandy hair standing upright on his head, so that he looked as if he had just been all but choked". Moreover, Mrs Hubble as "a little curly sharp-edged person in sky-blue" and Mr Hubble as "a tough high-shouldered stooping old man, of a sawdusty fragrance, with his legs extraordinarily wide apart".
During the dinner, Pip is bullied by all members of the table except for Joe. "I might have been an unfortunate little bull in a Spanish arena, I got so smartingly touched up by these moral goads". With all "pointing their fingers" to Pip, Joe is the only one who always aided and comforted Pip. He is even called "Swine" by Mr Wopsle or "Squeaker" by Mr Pumblechook.
Mrs Joe offers brandy to Uncle Pumblechook, the same brandy that Pip had filled up the bottle from the tar-water jug. When drinking the brandy, Uncle Pumblechook fell something wrong and spits all the liquid on the table. Dickens again, describes the scene with good sense of humour "I held on tight, while Mrs. Joe and Joe ran to him. I didn’t know how I had done it, but I had no doubt I had murdered him somehow"
When his sister goes to get the pork pie, Pip is so horrified by the situation, she will discover the robbery, that he runs always by the door " ...and ran for my life". Outside, he meets some soldiers who held out a pair of handcuffs on him.
See you on Chapter five.
4.22.2017
4.17.2017
CAE - Reading - Multiple Choice
You are going to read an extract from a story. For questions 1-6, choose the answer (a,b,c or d) which you think fits best according to the text. (From Flo - Joe UK)
HOME COMFORT
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the lull (a temporary calm) before the storm of Monday morning madness of alarm clocks, traffic jams and deadlines. The clock struck (to make known the time by sounding) three and Rebecca’s elbow still rested on the arm of the tapestry-covered sofa. With her fingertips, she began caressing the rough piping (trimming stitched) that ran along its seams (the joining of two pieces). Simultaneously, the toes of her left foot moved back and forth across the edges of the sheepskin rug (a floor covering). This action Rebecca found comforting; it reminded her of being at home as a child when she used to sit in the family sitting room, her toes playing with the fringes of another kind of rug. Her mother would snap at her to stop it, so of course, she did it all the more (even more).
Rebecca had a sudden whiff (to inhale an odor) of the glue that Katy was applying to make one of her artistic creations. Her daughter was seated on a cushion right in the middle of the room, looking like an island, surrounded by a sea of cardboard cut-offs, sequins, felt-tip pens, and pristine sheets of white A4 paper that she had disobediently pinched from her father’s study. She really should be working at the kitchen table, Rebecca thought, but I don’t have the appetite for the outburst that might happen if my genius-daughter-at-work is disturbed. Every three minutes and 50 seconds Katy got up to replay Kylie Minogue’s version of ‘The Locomotion’.
“Why don’t you listen to the CD all the way through, Katy?” her dad said, who was sprawled out on the other sofa. “You’d like the other songs as well.”
“Nah, too boring.”
Rebecca glanced at David and then said, “I could do with something to perk me up.” Her words trailed off with a heavy sigh, and then a yawn. It was the first in a series of hints that she would like him to get up and make her a cup of tea.
On the lamp table next to the sofa, she noticed a letter that had been delivered a week ago, advertising exercises classes and a slimming club. She had kept it on the table as a reminder, or perhaps to conjure up the same kind of magical effect that people believe in when they splash out on membership to a fancy gym without going near the place more than once every two months.
“Have you seen this flyer?” she said to her husband. “Just the thought of going for a workout makes me want to go and lie down.” Once more she didn’t get a response. “Who’s going to make the tea then?” was her third and most blatant (mean so loud or insistent as to compel attention) attempt to get a drink before she died of thirst.
He stood up. “I suppose it’s my turn. Again.” He went off into the kitchen while Rebecca, the victor (winner), snuggled (to curl up comfortably or cozily) a bit further into the sofa. Charlie, who’d been asleep on the sheepskin rug, now started up with his own brand of baby chatter. He was attempting to cover the whole repertoire of vowel sounds this afternoon, like a singer performing warm-up exercises. Then, occasionally, he jammed (to force one's way into a restricted space) his fingers into his mouth to make a sound approaching an elongated ‘w’.
He lay underneath a baby gym, which consisted of a tubular frame in patriotic colours of red, white and blue and a top bar, from which dangled two clowns, one on a swing and one in a position that Rebecca thought was called a pike. (It was a long time ago that she had achieved her gold star award in the trampoline.) Once Charlie made eye contact with Rebecca, his happy babbling began to turn into a grizzle.
Does Charlie want feeding again?” Rebecca asked in the baby voice that irritated them all, herself included. She bent down to scoop her son up.
“Mum, he doesn’t want feeding again. You’ve only just fed him,” Katy said.
“I’ll try – just in case he’s hungry.” In the kitchen she warmed through the mush of potatoes and broccoli that Charlie liked and took it back through to be with Katy.
Luckily, the baby was actually ready for a feed, which meant that Rebecca not only saved face with her daughter, but showed that she had no need to feel guilty about sending her husband to make the tea. David walked back in the sitting room that very minute, her cup of Earl Grey with its delicate scent of bergamot wobbling in its saucer. In his other hand he clutched a large mug. Rebecca gave him a warning look that dared him not to put the cups down on the oak blanket box that served as their coffee table. Its surface was already scarred by two rings where hot drinks had been carelessly placed directly onto it.
“Thanks. You’re a treasure.” She settled down to feed Charlie, knowing that her tea would be the perfect temperature to drink in one go by the time he had had enough.
“Where’s Katy got to?” David said, after a few minutes. The answer came from upstairs as they heard the sound of their older child passing through the curtain in the doorway of her bedroom. It was likethose beaded curtains that used to be in fashion when Rebecca was a child, but instead of beads this one was formed from a dazzling collection of pink, purple and silver shimmering plastic squares. She couldn’t remember which one of them had named it the ‘jingle-jangler’ but it was very apt.
1
|
Rebecca’s mood at the start
of the story is
|
||
|
|
|
calm and reflective.
|
|
|
|
cross and irritable.
|
|
|
|
restless and agitated.
|
|
|
|
sad and upset.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
2
|
What action does Rebecca take
with her daughter?
|
||
|
|
|
She reprimands Katy for making a mess on the floor.
|
|
|
|
She asks David to speak to Katy.
|
|
|
|
She appeals to Katy to play a wider range of music.
|
|
|
|
She does nothing in order to avoid a fuss.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
3
|
What is Rebecca’s attitude to
the letter lying on the table?
|
||
|
|
|
The adverb’s claims are misleading.
|
|
|
|
She hopes it will prompt her to take up exercise.
|
|
|
|
It makes her feel more motivated.
|
|
|
|
She thinks the slimming club is good value for money.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
4
|
When David first leaves the
sitting room, Rebecca is
|
||
|
|
|
relieved that her baby is awake.
|
|
|
|
surprised to hear her baby chattering.
|
|
|
|
guilty that she’s being lazy.
|
|
|
|
glad to have got her own way.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
5
|
Rebecca is worried when her
husband brings in the drinks because
|
||
|
|
|
he might trip over Katy’s equipment.
|
|
|
|
he doesn’t like the smell of her tea.
|
|
|
|
tea is dripping from the saucer.
|
|
|
|
he might damage an item of furniture.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
6
|
The curtain referred to in
Katy’s bedroom
|
||
|
|
|
is identical in design to one from a previous generation.
|
|
|
|
makes a tinkling sound.
|
|
|
|
is made up of unusual colours.
|
|
|
|
keeps out the light at night.
|
Answers - 1(a), 2(d), 3(b), 4(d), 5(d), 6(b).
See you!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)