SPEAK OUT: ELEMENTARY UNIT 10: WILD WEATHER

1) Watch - ‘Speakout elementary dvd preview Unit 10’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QoG_HBTPcCw&list=UUP6px6Y2N4lyCRkdl7dW5aA&index=121

a) What is the wettest place in western Europe?

b) How often does it rain there?

c) How many tonnes of rain fall on the average family house in one month?

d) In which year was the longest period of continuous rain recorded?

e) It started raining on the third of January that year. When did the rain stop?

f) For how many days did it rain every day?

2) What’s the Weather Like?

NOUN PHRASE ADJECTIVE PHRASE It is freezing = 0°C

Sunshine It is sunny It is cold = 10° C

Rain It is rainy It is cool = 18°C

Wind It is windy It is warm = 25°C

Fog It is foggy It is hot = 33°C

Mist It is misty It is boiling = 40°C

Frost It is frosty

Cloud It is cloudy

3) What is the weather like in the Marche

(a) in the spring

(b) in the summer

(c) in the autumn

(d) in the winter

ADVERBS OF FREQUENCY

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- | | | | | | | | | | | NEVER | RARELY | SOMETIMES | OFTEN | USUALLY | ALWAYS

HARDLY SELDOM | NOT VERY VERY ALMOST EVER OCCASIONALLY OFTEN OFTEN ALWAYS

WORD ORDER i) Lexical Verbs ii) Auxiliary Verbs & ‘To Be’ I often go to the cinema I don’t always do my homework She sometimes listens to Jazz He can never remember my name I have rarely got the time to have breakfast

The train is usually late

THE PRESENT CONTINUOUS

FORM

Infinitive = to work

+ I am working We are working

You are working You are working

He / she / it is working They are working

__ I am not working We aren’t working

You aren’t working You aren’t working

He / she / it isn’t working They aren’t working

? Am I working ? Are we working ?

Are you working ? Are you working ?

Is he / she / it working ? Are they working ?

SPELLING

Infinitive -ing form Infinitive -ing form

Enjoy Enjoying Make Making

Study Studying Take Taking

Stop Stopping Admit Admitting

Sit Sitting Prefer Preferring

Enter Entering Lie Lying

Limit Limiting Die Dying

USE

i) For things happening now or in this period e.g. “I am watching TV”

ii) For things that are changing e.g. “The price of gold is going up”

iii) For arrangements in the future (but you must say WHEN)

e.g. “I’m flying to New York next Friday”

MAKING COMPARISONS

Adam Bill Charles David

20 30 20 15

Adam is older than David

Charles is younger than Bill

Bill is the oldest

David is the youngest

Adam is as old as Charles

David is not as old as Bill

Now make comparisons between two hotels using adjectives like:

hot luxurious spacious close to a casino quiet relaxing tasteful

cool far from civilisation technologically advanced large family-friendly tall

easy to get to big close to the sea elegant modern attractive

HOTELS & RESORTS

1) Watch this video

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPFllfd4nM8

How would you describe the Nihi Sumba resort?

How would you describe the island of Sumba?

What can guests do at the Nihi Sumba resort?

2) Watch this video

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BAvTqA2stHo

How would you describe the Trump International Hotel in Las Vegas?

3) Which hotel would you prefer to stay at? Why?

1. A canner, exceedingly canny, One morning remarked to his granny: “A canner can can, Whatever he can, But a canner can't can a can, can he ?”

2. I once fell in love with a blonde, But found that she wasn't so fond, Of my pet turtle Odle, Whom I'd taught to yodel, -- she dumped him outside in the pond.

3. A crossword compiler named Moss, Who found himself quite at a loss, When asked, “Why so blue ?” Said, “I haven’t a clue, I’m 2 Down to put 1 Across.”

4. The incredible Wizard of Oz, Retired from his business because, Due to up-to-date science, To most of his clients, He wasn't the Wizard he was.

My Last Will When I am safely laid away, Out of work and out of play, Sheltered by the kindly ground From the world of sight and sound, One or two of those I leave Will remember me and grieve, Thinking how I made them gay By the things I used to say; — But the crown of their distress Will be my untidiness. What a nuisance then will be All that shall remain of me! Shelves of books I never read, Piles of bills, un-docketed, Shaving-brushes, razors, strops, Bottles that have lost their tops, Boxes full of odds and ends, Letters from departed friends, Faded ties and broken braces Tucked away in secret places, Baggy trousers, ragged coats, Stacks of ancient lecture-notes, And that ghostliest of shows, Boots and shoes in horrid rows. Though they are of cheerful mind, My lovers, whom I leave behind, When they find these in my stead, Will be sorry I am dead. They will grieve; but you, my dear, Who have never tasted fear, Brave companion of my youth, Free as air and true as truth, Do not let these weary things Rob you of your junketings. Burn the papers; sell the books; Clear out all the pestered nooks; Make a mighty funeral pyre For the corpse of old desire, Till there shall remain of it Naught but ashes in a pit: And when you have done away All that is of yesterday, If you feel a thrill of pain, Master it, and start again. This, at least, you’ve never done Since you first beheld the sun: If you came upon your own Blind to light and deaf to tone, Basking in the great release

Of unconsciousness and peace, You would never, while you live, Shatter what you cannot give; — Faithful to the watch you keep, You would never break their sleep. Clouds will sail and winds will blow As they did an age ago O’er us who lived in little towns Underneath the Berkshire downs. When at heart you shall be sad, Pondering the joys we had, Listen and keep very still. If the lowing from the hill Or the tolling of a bell Do not serve to break the spell, Listen; you may be allowed To hear my laughter from a cloud. Take the good that life can give For the time you have to live. Friends of yours and friends of mine Surely will not let you pine. Sons and daughters will not spare More than friendly love and care. If the Fates are kind to you, Some will stay to see you through; And the time will not be long Till the silence ends the song. Sleep is God’s own gift; and man, Snatching all the joys he can, Would not dare to give his voice To reverse his Maker’s choice. Brief delight, eternal quiet, How change these for endless riot Broken by a single rest? Well you know that sleep is best. We that have been heart to heart Fall asleep, and drift apart. Will that overwhelming tide Reunite us, or divide? Whence we come and whither go None can tell us, but I know Passion’s self is often marred By a kind of self-regard, And the torture of the cry “You are you, and I am I.” While we live, the waking sense Feeds upon our difference, In our passion and our pride Not united, but allied. We are severed by the sun, And by darkness are made one.

E. M. Cioran, the Philosopher of Despair

E. M. Cioran, a Romanian-born writer known for his essays on philosophy

and culture and his emphasis on despair, emptiness and death, died on

Tuesday in the Broca Hospital in Paris. He was 84 and had lived in Paris since

1937.

Mr. Cioran has been widely read by modern writers and thinkers. Susan

Sontag called him a practitioner of "a new kind of philosophizing: personal,

aphoristic, lyrical, anti-systematic." And Edmund White, writing in The New

York Times Book Review in 1991, said that Mr. Cioran "has contemplated

suicide for decades, esteems extremists, fanatics and eccentrics of all sorts

and has instituted vertigo into his daily life."

Mr. Cioran himself once wrote: "However much I have frequented the

mystics, deep down I have always sided with the Devil; unable to equal him in

power, I have tried to be worthy of him, at least, in insolence, acrimony,

arbitrariness and caprice."

Norman Manea, a Romanian who is currently a writer in residence at Bard

College, said yesterday: "He was a brilliant rebel and a challenging

misanthrope who tried again and again to awake us to the nothingness of

human existence."

Mr. Cioran's hair-shirted world view resonated in the titles of his books: "On

the Heights of Despair" (1933), "Syllogisms of Bitterness" (1952), "The

Temptation to Exist" (1956), "The Fall Into Time" (1964) and "The Trouble

with Being Born" (1973).

He was widely admired for the elegant French prose style that he employed in

his pessimistic reflections. He himself said sourly that he was "obsessed with

the worst." The French poet St.-John Perse once wrote that Mr. Cioran was

"one of the greatest French writers to honor our language since the death of

Paul Valery."

Mr. Cioran's first major work in French was published by Gallimard in 1949

and he later used French in writing a dozen books of short stories, essays and

aphorisms.

The source of his world view, he said in an interview published in 1994, was

severe insomnia that began plaguing him as a youth and led him to give up his

faith in philosophy after years of studying it. He gave this account:

"I lost my sleep and this is the greatest tragedy that can befall someone. It is

much worse than sitting in prison. I went out of the house at about midnight

or later and roamed through the alleys. And there were only a few lunatics

and me, all alone in the entire city, in which absolute silence reigned.

"Everything that I thought in consequence and later composed was 'born'

during those nights. Because I could not sleep at night and roamed about, I

was naturally useless during the day and could therefore practice no

profession."

"Seven years of sleeplessness" ensued, he recalled, "and my vision of things is

the result of this years-long wakefulness. I saw that philosophy had no power

to make my life more bearable. Thus I lost my belief in philosophy."

The readership for his writings, despite their gloom, has grown in recent

years, in France and elsewhere. Gallimard paid him homage early this year by

publishing his complete works in a single volume, "Oeuvres" ("Works").

Mr. Cioran lived reclusively in a simple Left Bank apartment, frequenting the

area around the Luxembourg Gardens and avoiding the company of other

literary figures. He rejected two French literary awards, the Prix Rogier

Namier and the Grand Prix Paul-Morand.

Emil M. Cioran was born in Rasinari, a village in central Rumania. His father

was a Romanian Orthodox priest. He studied literature and philosophy at the

university of Bucharest, where he devoted himself particularly to the

philosophy of Kant, Fichte, Schopenhauer, Hegel and the French philosopher

Henri Bergson (1859-1941). Mr. Cioran wrote a thesis on Bergson's thought,

and earned a degree in 1932. When his first book, the essays entitled "On the

Heights of Despair," was published in 1933 in Bucharest it won the Prize of

the Royal Academy for young writers.

His writings were banned in Rumania under the Ceausescu Government, but

in 1989 he and the playwright Eugene Ionesco were made honorary members

of the Romanian Writers' Union.

The Trouble With Being Born (1973)

French title: De l'inconvénient d'être né

• To have committed every crime but that of being a father.

• Unlike Job, I have not cursed the day I was born; all the other days, on the contrary, I have

covered with my anathemas...

• I long to be free—desperately free. Free as the stillborn are free.

• Where are my sensations? They have melted into... me, and what is this me, this self, but the

sum of these evaporated sensations?

• Lucidity is the only vice which makes us free — free in a desert.

• We cannot consent to be judged by someone who has suffered less than ourselves. And

since each of us regards himself as an unrecognized Job...

• What to do? Where to go? Do nothing and go nowhere, easy enough.

• Some have misfortunes; others, obsessions. Which are worse off?

• What is that one crucifixion compared to the daily kind any insomniac endures?

• I do not forgive myself for being born. It is as if creeping into this world, I had profaned a

mystery, betrayed some momentous pledge, committed a fault of nameless gravity. Yet in a

less assured mood, birth seems a calamity I would be miserable not having known

• For a long time—always, in fact—I have known that life here on earth is not what I needed

and that I wasn't able to deal with it; for this reason and for this reason alone, I have

acquired a touch of spiritual pride, so that my existence seems to me the degradation and the

erosion of a psalm.

• There was a time when time did not yet exist... The rejection of birth is nothing but the

nostalgia for this time before time.

• He who hates himself is not humble.

• The feeling of being the thousand years behind, or ahead, of the others, of belonging to the

beginnings or to the end of humanity...

• It's not worth the bother of killing yourself, since you always kill yourself too late.

• When you know quite absolutely that everything is unreal, you then cannot see why you

should take the trouble to prove it.

• Characteristic of sickness: to stay awake when everything sleeps, when everything is at rest,

even the sick man.

• I never met one interesting mind that was not richly endowed with inadmissible deficiencies.

• To claim you are more detached, more alien to everything than anyone, and to be merely a

fanatic of indifference!

• What are you waiting for in order to give up?

• No one is responsible for what he is nor even for what he does. This is obvious and

everyone more or less agrees that it is so. Then why celebrate or denigrate? Because to exist

is to evaluate, to emit judgments, and because abstention, when it is not the effect of apathy

or cowardice, requires an effort no one manages to make.

• There is no limit to suffering.

• After a sleepless night, the people in the street seem automatons. No one seems to breathe,

to walk, Each looks as if he is worked by clockwork: nothing spontaneous; mechanical

smiles, spectral gesticulations. Yourself a specter, how would you see others as alive?

• A man who fears ridicule will never go far, for good or ill: he remains on this side of this

talents, and even if he has genius, he is doomed to mediocrity.

• Only what has been conceived in solitude, face to face with God, endures - whether one is a

believer or not.

• We must learn how to explode! Any disease is healthier than the one provoked by a hoarded

rage.

• We must suffer to the end, to the moment when we stop believing in suffering

• Won over by solitude, yet he remains in the world: a stylite without a pillar.

• "You were wrong to count on me." Who can speak in terms? God and the Failure.

• All my life, I have lived with the feeling that I have been kept from my true place. If the

expression "metaphysical exile" had no meaning, my existence alone would afford it one.

• A phantom cannot be cured, still less an enlightened mind. We can only cure those who

belong to the earth and still have their roots in it, however superficial.

• I pride myself on my capacity to perceive the transitory character of everything. An odd gift

which has spoiled all my joys; better: all my sensations.

• A relief bordering on orgasm at the notion that one will never again embrace a cause, any

cause...

• When you know yourself well and do not despise yourself utterly, it is because you are too

exhausted to indulge in extreme feelings.

• An impostor, a "humbug," conscious of being so and therefore a self-spectator, is

necessarily more advanced in knowledge than a steady mind full of merits and all of a piece.

• No longer wanting to be a man…dreaming of another form of failure.

• Nothing is tragic. Everything is unreal.

• Everything turn on pain; the rest is accessory, even nonexistent, for we remember only what

hurts. Painful sensations being the only real ones, it is virtually useless to experience others.

• I feel I am free but I know I am not.

• If I have been able to hold out till now, it is because each blow, which seemed intolerable at

the time, was followed by a second which was worse, then a third, and so on. If I were in

hell, I'd want its circles to multiply, in order to count on a new ordeal, more trying than its

predecessor. A salutary policy, with regard to torments at least.

• We had nothing to say to one another, and while I was manufacturing my phrases I felt that

earth was falling through space and that I was falling with it at a speed that made me dizzy.

• Years and years to waken from that sleep in which the others loll; then years and years to

scape that awakening...

• When we discern the unreality of everything, we ourselves become unreal, we begin to

survive ourselves, however powerful our vitality, however imperious our instincts. But they

are no longer anything but false instincts, and false vitality.

• The problem of responsibility would have a meaning only if we had been consulted before

our birth and had consented to be precisely who we are.

• The sole means of protecting your solitude is to offend everyone, beginning with those you

love.

• My merit is not to be totally ineffectual but to have wanted to be.

• Man is a robot with defects.

• Trees are massacred, houses go up - faces, faces everywhere. Man is spreading. Man is the

cancer of the earth.

• Each time I think of the essential, I seem to glimpse it in silence or explosion, in stupor or

exclamation. Never in speech.

• The appetite for torment is for some what the lure of gain is for others.

• Man started out on the wrong foot. the misadventure in paradise was the first consequence.

The rest had to follow.

• God: a disease we imagine we are cured of because no one dies of it nowadays.

• I have never taken myself for a being. A non-citizen, a marginal type, a nothing who exists

only by the excess, by the superabundance of his nothingness.

• A golden rule: to leave an incomplete image of oneself...

• For the man who has got in the nasty habit of unmasking appearances, event and

misunderstanding are synonyms. To make for the essential is to throw up the game, to admit

one is defeated.

• Having destroyed all my connections, burned my bridges, I should feel a certain freedom,

and in fact I do. One so intense I am afraid to rejoice in it.

• Everything is deception - I've always known that. Yet this certitude has afforded me no

relief, except at the moments when it was violently present to my mind...

• The only way of enduring one disaster after the next is to love the very idea of disaster: if

we succeed, there are no further surprises, we are superior to whatever occurs, we are

invincible victims.

• One cannot live without motives. I have no motives left, and I am living.

• My weaknesses have spoiled my existence, but it is thanks to them that I exist, that I

imagine I exist

• Getting up in the middle of the night, I walked around my room with the certainty of being

chosen and criminal, a double privilege natural to the sleepless, revolting or

incomprehensible for the captives of daytime logic.

• On n'habite pas un pays, on habite une langue.

o We inhabit a language rather than a country.

PRONUNCIATION PRACTICE

This That These Those

Father Further Leather Rather

Thick Thin Think Thought Mouth South Path Bath

Hand Hat Hit Heat Hear Hold High Hill

And At It Eat Ear Old Eye Ill

Vet Vest Veal Vine

Wet West Wheel Wine

Current Other Mother Month Money Company Government

Run Cup Hut Suck Bun Bug Hug Putt

Ran Cap Hat Sack Ban Bag Hag Pat

Ship Bin It Sit Lick Sick Hill Pit

Sheep Been Eat Seat Leak Seek Heal Peat

Shop Bond Odd Shone Lock Sock Hot Pot

Sharp Barn Art Start Lark Sarcasm Heart Part

Short Born Ought Sort Law Saw Haughty Port

Shed Ben Et Set Let Wealthy Healthy Pet

Shirt Burn Earned Certain Alert Worthy Hurt Pert

Should Bull Foot Soot Look Wool Hood Put

Shoot Boon Food Soon Luke Wound Hooligan Pool

Shake Bake Fade Sane Lake Wake Hail Pale

Shine Bind File Sign Like While High Pile

Soil Boy Joy Coin Toy Voice Boil Spoil

Shout Bound Found Sound Our Hour Howl Pout

Stone Bone Phone So Own Woe Hoe Boat

Steer Beer Fear Seer Ear Weird Hear Pier

Stair Bare Fair Share Air Wear Hair Pair

Tour Bureau Furious Euro Europe European Tourism Pure

Honour Honourable Honorary Honest Honesty Honestly

Hour Hourly Hourglass Heir Heiress Heirloom