Практический курс английского языка 3 курс - страница 4
1. If only the weather were better! 2. In two days I'll finish my exams. 3. I shan't be through with my work before the
weekend, I'm afraid. 4. How long will the job take? 5. We're going there on Friday. 6. She may come yet. Let's wait a bit.
7. He says it was your fault. 8. How long shall I stay there?
4. Make up two sentences of your own on each pattern.
5. Translate into English using the Speech Patterns:
A. Весной, на обратном пути в Москву, мы случайно проезжали мимо небольшого городка. Он был скорее
похож на большую деревню, чем на город, все дома в нем утопали в цветах, и он показался нам таким красивым,
что мы не смогли не остановиться там. Я никогда бы не подумала, что прогулка по маленькому провинциальному
городку может доставить такое наслаждение. Мы ходили по городу около трех часов, и чем больше мы смотрели
на этот сказочный уголок, тем больше восхищались им. Но у нас осталось мало времени, и нам пришлось
спешить в Москву.
B. В прошлом году нам с женой пришлось пойти в отпуск зимой. Мы решили, что это удобный случай, чтобы
собственными силами отремонтировать квартиру. После двух дней работы наша квартира больше походила на
склад поломанной мебели, чем на квартиру.
«Это никуда не годится, — сказала жена. — Давай лучше пригласим маляров» (to have smth. done).
6. Make up and act out a dialogue using the Speech Patterns.
TEXT ONE
THREE MEN IN A BOAT
By Jerome K.Jerome
Jerome K.Jerome (1859—1927) is a well-known English writer, whose novels Three Men in a Boat, The Idle
Thoughts of an Idle Fellow, Novel Notes and Three Men on the Bummel have enjoyed great popularity. Jerome K Jerome
is famous SOT his art of story-telling, his vivid style and his humour which is generally expressed in’ laughter-provoking
situations often based on misunderstanding. With sparkling humour he criticized the weak sides of human nature.
Chapter XIV
We got out at Sonning,1 and went for a walk round the village. It is the most fairy-like nook on the whole river. It is
more like a stage village than one built of bricks and mortar. Every house is smoth ered in roses, and now, in early June,
they were bursting forth in clouds of dainty splendour. If you stop at Sonning, put up at the "Bull", behind the church. It
is a veritable picture of an old country inn, with a green, square courtyard in front, where, on seats beneath the trees, the
old men group of an evening to drink their ale and gossip over village politics; with low quaint rooms and latticed
windows2 and awkward stairs and winding passages.
We roamed about sweet Sonning for an hour or so, and then, it being too late to push on past Reading, 3 we decided to
go back to one of the Shiplake islands, and put up there for the night. It was still early when we got settled and George
said that, as we had plenty of time, it would be a splendid opportunity to try a good, slap-up supper. He said he would
show us what could be done up the river in the way of cooking, and suggested that, with the vege tables and the remains
of the cold beef and general odds and ends, we should make an Irish stew.4
It seemed a fascinating idea. George gathered wood and made a fire, and Harris and I started to peel the potatoes. I
should never have thought that peeling potatoes was such an undertaking. The job turned out to be the biggest thing of its
kind that I had ever been in. We began cheerfully, one might almost say skittishly but our light-heartedness was gone by
the time the first potato was finished. The more we peeled, the more peel there seemed to be left on; by the time we had
got all the peel off and all the eyes out, there was no potato left — at least none worth speaking of. George came and had
a look at it — it was about the size of pea-nut. He said:
"Oh, that won't do! You're wasting them. You must scrape them."
So we scraped them and that was harder work than peeling. They are such an extraordinary shape, potatoes — all
bumps and warts and hollows. We worked steadily for five-and-twenty minutes, and did four potatoes. Then we struck.