Boxing Day is a holiday celebrated on the day after Christmas Day. It originated in the United Kingdom, and is celebrated in a number of countries that previously formed part of the British Empire. Boxing Day is on 26 December.
martes, 26 de diciembre de 2017
lunes, 25 de diciembre de 2017
domingo, 17 de diciembre de 2017
lunes, 20 de noviembre de 2017
jueves, 16 de noviembre de 2017
martes, 14 de noviembre de 2017
viernes, 10 de noviembre de 2017
martes, 7 de noviembre de 2017
HOW CAN WE FACE THE FUTURE WITHOUT FEAR? - LAYOUT OF A SPEECH
It's a fateful moment in history. We've seen divisive elections, divided societies and the growth of extremism -- all fueled by anxiety and uncertainty. "Is there something we can do, each of us, to be able to face the future without fear?" asks Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks. In this electrifying talk, the spiritual leader gives us three specific ways we can move from the politics of "me" to the politics of "all of us, together."
THE TELL-TALE HEARTby Edgar Allan Poe
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.
Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.
I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?"
I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.
Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my head within the room.
When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.
It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.
And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more.
If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.
I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye --not even his --could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha!
When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.
I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.
No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!"
lunes, 6 de noviembre de 2017
Do you know the answer to these questions?
Who was Guy Fawkes, how did he die and why do we celebrate the gunpowder plot every Bonfire Night?
Bonfire Night is also known as Fireworks' Night or Guy Fawkes Night. It's a British tradition dating back to the Gunpowder Plot of 1605, when Catholic conspirator Guy Fawkes tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament and King James I. Bonfire Night is the anniversary of the foiling of the Gunpowder Plot on 5 November 1605.
Why do we celebrate Bonfire Night?
Bonfire Night in Winchester (England)
domingo, 5 de noviembre de 2017
Armistice Day is also known as Remembrance Day or Remembrance Sunday.
It marks the day World War One ended, at 11am on the 11th day of the 11th month, back in 1918.
A two-minute silence is held at 11am to remember the people who have died in wars.
You tell us what Remembrance Day is and why it's so important (November 2017).
There is also Remembrance Sunday every year, which falls on the second Sunday in November.
Poppies are worn by millions as a symbol to remember all of the people who have given their lives for their country in war.
On this day, there are usually ceremonies at war memorials, cenotaphs and churches throughout the country, as well as abroad.
The Royal Family and top politicians gather at The Cenotaph in Whitehall, London, for a memorial service.
The anniversary is used to remember all the people who have died in wars, not just World War One.
This includes World War Two, the Falklands War, the Gulf War, and conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq.
Why do we hold a two-minute silence?
The first two-minute silence in Britain was held on 11 November 1919, when King George V asked the public to observe a silence at 11am.
This was one year after the end of World War One.
He made the request so "the thoughts of everyone may be concentrated on reverent remembrance of the glorious dead".
jueves, 2 de noviembre de 2017
miércoles, 1 de noviembre de 2017
martes, 31 de octubre de 2017
jueves, 12 de octubre de 2017
miércoles, 11 de octubre de 2017
jueves, 5 de octubre de 2017
miércoles, 4 de octubre de 2017
martes, 3 de octubre de 2017
Re-write the sentences so that they have the same meaning as the original. You must use the words in brackets.
1. Although she was an expert swimmer, she drowned. (OF)
2. The school was closed down due to low inscription. (OF)
3. Helen went to the market so that she could buy some vegetables. (ORDER)
4. The match was cancelled because it was raining. (TO)
5. Despite having a terrible headache, he went to the office. (HAD)
6. I sat by the window in order to see the landscape. (THAT)
7. As well as being en excellent painter, she writes poems and plays the piano.
8. Although Ann isn't very attractive, she is very popular. (HOWEVER)
9. Seeing that we'd run out of milk, we went to the supermarket. (BECAUSE)
10. As well as renewing the kitchen, she redecorated her bedroom. (TO)
11. Many sportsmen are disqualified as a consequence of their illegal use of drugs. (CONSEQUENTLY)
12. John won the race. Nevertheless, he didn't feel happy. (DESPITE)
13. We need to increase sales. Therefore, we'll start a new advertising campaign. (SO)
14. Although he was a millionaire, he behaved as an ordinary man. (YET)
15. Since you are her elder brother, you must take care of her. (BECAUSE)
16. She's an excellent secretary. However, she has never been promoted. (SPITE)
17. She opened the car window so that she could get some fresh air. (IN ORDER TO)
18. I opened the window due to the heat. (BECAUSE)
19. We didn't go swimming because the water wasn't very clean. (SO)
20. The government passed a new law in order to control terrorism.
21. Despite having some problems, she finally passed the test. (HAD)
22. I enjoy going to the beach. My husband does not.
23. As a consequence of his father's illness, he couldn't go to work. (SINCE)
24. Although he was an excellent student, he didn't get the grant. (HOWEVER)
25. They lost the match due to the bad weather. (AS)
26. Although she wasn't hungry, she ate a few biscuits. (OF)
27. She missed the bus so she had to take a taxi.
28. Although she was very intelligent, she pretended not to understand. (OF)
29. In addition to buying a new coat for his wife, he bought himself a cardigan. (BESIDES)
30. Sheila went to the garage to have her car serviced. (SO)
31. He broke his left hand as a result of a skiing accident. (DUE)
32. I like Harry Potter's books. My brother does not.
33. She didn't telephone John because she didn't have his number. (SO)
34. Although he had excellent qualifications he didn't get the job. (YET)
35. They got lost in London because they didn't have a street map. (AS)
36. Although she was very tired, she kept on working. (DESPITE)
37. She lost her purse, so she went to the police station. (BECAUSE)
check up your results here
ON MILLENIALS, TECHNOLOGY & HAPPINESS
jueves, 28 de septiembre de 2017
martes, 26 de septiembre de 2017
OUTSIDERS & OUTCASTS: HOLDEN CAUFIELD FROM J.D. SALINGER'S THE CATCHER IN THE RYE
via learn online
Read the conversation between Holden Caufield (16), the protagonist of J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye, and his little sister, Phoebe. He has just come back home after escaping from the last college he was expelled from and after wandering around New York City for a few days... "Old Phoebe", 10 years old, wants to know why he escaped and disappeared . She asks him if there is anything he likes in his life, because he doesn't seem to like anything...
The Phoniness of the World
"You can't even think of one thing"
"Yes, I can, I can"
"Well do it, then"
"I like Allie", I said. "And I like doing what I'm doing right now. Sitting here with you, and talking , and thinking about stuff, and - "
"Allie's dead. You always say that! If somebody's dead and everything and in heaven, then it isn't really -"
"I know he's dead! Don't you think I know that? I can still like him though, can't I? Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them, for God's sake - especially if they were about a thousand times nicer than the people you know that're alive and all"
Old Phoebe didn't say anything. When she can't think of anything to say, she doesn't say a goddam word.
"Anyway I like it now," I said "I mean right now. Sitting here with you and just chewing the fat and horsing-"
"That isn't anything really!"
"It is so something really! Certainly it is! Why the hell isn't it? People never think anything is anything really. I'm getting goddam sick of it."
"Stop swearing. Alright name something else. Name something you'd like to be. Like a scientist. Or a lawyer or something."
"I couldn't be a scientist. I'm no good in Science."
"Well, a lawyer - like Daddy and all."
"Lawyers are all right, I guess - but it doesn't appeal to me," I said. "I mean they're are all right if they go around saving innocent guys' lives all the time, and like that, but you don't do that kind of stuff if you're a lawyer. All you do is make a lot of dough and play golf and play bridge, and buy cars and drink martinis and look like a hot-shot. And besides. Even if you did go around saving guys' lives and all, how would you know if you did it because you really wanted to save guys' lives or you did it because what you really wanted to do was to be a terrific lawyer, with everybody slapping you on the back and congratulating you in court when the goddam trial was over, the reporters and everybody, the way it is in the dirty movies? How would you know you weren't being a phoney? The trouble is, you wouldn't."
I'm not too sure Old Phoebe knew what the hell I was talking about. I mean she's only a little child and all. But she was listening, at least. If somebody at least listens, it's not too bad.
"Daddy's going to kill you. He's going to kill you," she said.
I wasn't listening, though. I was thinking about something else - something crazy. "You know what I'd like to be?" I said. "You know what I'd like to be? I mean if I had my goddam choice?"
"What? Stop swearing".
"You know that song ...'if a body catch a body comin' through the rye'? I'd like -"
"It's 'if a body MEET a body coming through the rye'! " Old Phoebe said "It's a poem. By Robert Burns."
"I know it's a poem by Robert Burns"
She was right, though. It is 'if a body meet a body coming through the rye'. I didn't know it then, though.
"I thought it was 'if a body catch a body' ", I said."Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going. I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy".
Now answer the following questions:
1. Why is Holden considered a rebel by the adults in his life?
2. Why is his relationship with Phoebe so special?
3. Do you think there's something wrong with him and what he thinks?
4. What does his dream of being a catcher in the rye symbolize?
5. Compare Holden's dream to his description of his father (lawyers)
For more about J.D. Salinger and The Catcher in the Rye, read pages. 382/389 in your text book, Cakes and Ale vol. 3.
THE REBEL IN THE RYE (2017)
The true untold story of the birth of Salinger's cult novel
jueves, 21 de septiembre de 2017
viernes, 15 de septiembre de 2017
jueves, 14 de septiembre de 2017
BACK TO SCHOOL - LETTER TO A TEACHER
Here's the text of the letter we read this morning in our first lesson ... CLICK HERE
miércoles, 13 de septiembre de 2017
lunes, 11 de septiembre de 2017
sábado, 5 de agosto de 2017
ALIKE, THE STORY OF COPI & PASTE
viernes, 21 de julio de 2017
WILL: 21st CENTURY SHAKESPEARE
|Jamie Campbell Bower and Laurie Davidson as Christopher Marlowe and William Shakespeare in TNT drama series|
William Shakespeare is one of the most widely known authors in the world and in history, but we actually know very little about the man. For instance, we know very little about his life during two major spans of time, commonly referred to as the "lost years": 1578-82 and 1585-92. The first period covers the time after Shakespeare left grammar school, until his marriage to Anne Hathaway in November of 1582. The second period covers the seven years of Shakespeare's life in which he must have been perfecting his dramatic skills and collecting sources for the plots of his plays. The TV series “WILL”, which premiered on TNT on 10th July 2017, in a very imaginative way, tries to fill in the seven years’ gap.
WILL tells the wild story of young William Shakespeare's arrival onto the punk-rock theater scene in 16th century London -- the seductive, violent world where his raw talent faced rioting audiences, religious fanatics and raucous side-shows. It’s a contemporary version of Shakespeare's life, played to a modern soundtrack that exposes all his recklessness, lustful temptations and brilliance.
WATCH SEASON 1 OFFICIAL TRAILER