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紫砂壶茶楼

桂子落画亭,梅影弄碧洲。胜迹追武陵,美酒流心沟。

 
 
 

日志

 
 

(原创)The 19th Week in Notts, UK  

2007-03-15 20:27:43|  分类: 酒花飘香 |  标签: |举报 |字号 订阅

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Sunday, 16 February 2003

    I woke up at 5 and couldn’t sleep any longer. I began to be lost in thought staying in bed.

    What is love? Love is kind, patient and not rude. Love is long suffering and love endures all things. True Love comes from the very bottom of your heart and not just the surfacing work you have done. To love is also a living sacrifice. Being Loved by someone is the most wonderful of all and just remember to Love is to sacrifice willingly.

    Love is when I am thinking of you.

    Love is when I am sitting in front of you looking at your eyes.

    Love is when I am talking with you exchanging feelings.

    Love is when I am holding your hands.

    Love is when I am cuddling you and kissing you.

    Love is when I am coming to you sick in bed.

    Love is when I am coaxing you giving you strength in life and work.

    Love is when I am writing to you every day.

    Love is when I am singing a song and writing a poem.

    Love is when I am on the journey of love with you.

    Love is when I am shedding tears for joy or for pain.

    Love is when I am dreaming of your figure in my sleep.

    Love is when I am trying but fail to put it away temporarily.

    Love is when I am waiting for any of your information reaching me.

    Love is when I am weaving the rosy dreams.

    Love is when I am turning the dreams into truth.

Love is when you are showing me radiant smiles.

Love is when you are chuckling sweetly.

Love is when you are shedding happy tears.

Love is when you are waiting for my messages anxiously.

Love is when you are putting your head on my broad shoulders.

Love is when you are caressing me passionately.

    Love is when we are communicating with our souls.

    Love is when we are giving each other spiritual support.

    Love is when we are totally combined both physically and mentally.

    Love is when we are walking out of the shadow to meet the glorious sunlight.

    Love is when we are sharing good ideas to fight against the rain and storm in life. Love is all about life.

Love is charity.

Love is hope.

Love is faith and strength.

Love is spring rain.

Love is winter snow.

Love is summer breeze.

Love is autumn sky.

    Love is the feeling in your heart when you see your loved one smile. Love is when you feel complete if your dear one manages to achieve something important in life. Love is the thought of that someone special so deep enough that you can imagine him or her right next to you, holding your hand. Love is the thought of losing someone special when you have them right in front of you. Love can be best defined not by an answer but by its own question. What is love?

  

 

Fulfilling their requests

    There were 3 men who died and before God would let them into heaven, he gave them a chance to come back as anything they wanted.

    The first guy said " I want to come back as myself, but 100 times smarter. So God made him 100 times smarter.

    The second guy said "I want to be better than that guy, make me 1000 times smarter.   So God made him 1000 times smarter. The last guy decided he would be the best. So he said "God, make me better than both of them, make me 1,000,000 times smarter.

    So God made him a woman!!

 

Monday, 17 February 2003

 

    The sun was shining when I was on the way to the university. It’s nice to see many daffodils were in bud, ready to bloom. The daffodils were planted on the grassland in the campus. It’s quite different from what we do with the daffodils. We put them into a water plate and they usually bloom in winter or early spring. But here the daffodils are just in bud on the ground. When they are in full bloom, they must be very beautiful. But at that time, I will have to say goodbye to those beauties.

    Mike gave us a lecture on Literature and Language. He wanted us to debate whether it’s necessary to teach students literature. Half of us are supposed to be in the group of for and the other half to be in the group of against. We debated a lot. Mike was glad to see us doing like that. Then he gave us a poem to read. After that he asked us to read our text and tried to get the idea of teaching literature.

    The following poem is what we learned today.   

 

Imagine living in a strange dark city for twenty years.

There are some dismal dwellings on the east side

And one of them is yours. On the landing, you hear

Your foreign accent echo down the stairs. You think

In a language of your own and talk in theirs.

 

Then you are writing home. The voice in your head

Recites the letter in a local dialect; behind that

Is the sound of your mother singing to you,

All that time ago, and now you do not know

Why your eyes are watering, and what’s the word for this.

 

You use the public transport. Work. Sleep. Imagine one night

You saw a name for yourself sprayed in red

Against a brick wall. A hate name, red like blood.

It is snowing on the streets, under the neon lights,

As if this place were coming to bits before your eyes.

 

And in the delicatessen, from time to time, the coins

In your palm will not translate, inarticulate

Because this is not your home, you point at fruit. Imagine

That one of you says Me not know what these people mean.

It like they only go to bed and dream. Imagine that. 

 

    Since there was no lesson for us this afternoon, I came to the computer room to go on reading the novels at bibliomania.com. For me it’s much easier to read on the net than sitting in the library now. I can choose freely from the net library what I like to read.

    At four o’clock I went to Beeston Travel World with Ms Yiao, one of our leaders, to ask for some information on going travelling to Highland, Scotland. We decided to go there on March 31 with 21 of us.

    In the evening I read on the bed as usual. Another day passed.

 

Tuesday, 18 February 2003

    Sarah gave us a poem about the 12 months to read. It’s interesting. The poem was written by George Barker.

 

January jumps about

in the frying pan

trying to heat

his frozen feet

like a Canadian.

 

February scuttles under

any dish’s lid

and she thinks she’s dry because she’s

thoroughly well hid

but it still rains all month long

and it always did.

 

March sits in the bath tub

with the taps turned on.

Hot and cold, cold or not, has the winter gone?

In like a lion, out like a lamb

March on, march on, march on.

 

April slips about

sometimes indoors

and sometimes out

sometimes sheltering from a little

shower of bright rain

in an empty milk bottle

then dashing out again.

 

May, she hides nowhere,

nowhere at all.

Proud as a peacock

walking by a wall.

The Maytime O the Maytime

full of leaf and flower

the Maytime O the Maytime

is loveliest of all.

 

June discards his shirt and

trousers by the stream

and takes the first dip of the year

into a jug of cream.

June is the gay time

of every girl and boy

who run about and sing and shout

in pardonable joy.

 

July by the sea

sits dabbling with sand

letting it run of her rather lazy hand,

and sometimes she sadly

thinks: ‘As I sit here

ah, more than half the year is gone,

the evanescent year.’

 

August by an emperor

was given his great name.

It is gold and purple

like a Hall of Fame.

(I have known it rather cold

and wettish, all the same.)

 

September lies in shadows

of the fading summer

hearing, in the distance,

the silver horns of winter

and not very far off

the coming autumn drummer.

 

October, October

apples on the tree,

the partridge in the wood and

the big winds at sea,

the mud beginning in the lane

the berries bright and red

and the big tree wildly

tossing its old head.

 

November when the fires

love to burn, and leaves

flit about and fill the air

where the old tree grieves.

November, November

its name is like a star

glittering on many things that were

but few things that are.

 

Twelfth and last December.

A few weeks away

we hear the silver bells

of the stag and the sleigh

flying from the tundras

far far away

bringing to us all the gift

of our Christmas Day.

 

    After two apples and two oranges for lunch, I entered the computer room to read BBC news first the China news. Then I downloaded an article about laughter.

    At two thirty I went to my tutorial. I asked Sarah two questions about the poem she taught us this morning. After her explanation I understood the poem quite well. Here, if you don’t understand something, you should keep on asking questions.

    The main theme of today’s tutorial was different kinds of word puzzles, such as a crossword, a game of a Hangman, acrostics, angrams and rebuses etc. it’s interesting.

    After the tutorial I went home.

 

Wednesday, 19 February 2003

    English weather is very nice for this time of the year. Now it seldom rains. I remembered the weather of the first two months, October and November was so changeable that I took my umbrella every day. The whole December was cloudy with only one hour of average sunshine each day. But since I came back from Europe, the weather has become so nice that I seldom use my umbrella.

    Now the branches of many trees here began to sprout announcing the coming of spring. The grass in the campus looks more green with daffodils in light yellow bud dotted among it. Some crows strut on the ground in their funny-looking way. I am always amused by their peculiar steps.

    Sarah gave us a lesson on drama teaching. She introduced briefly the story of Romeo and Juliet to us.

    I was free this afternoon. I had nothing important to do so the best way to kill the time was to go on the net.

 

    A laugh-a-day keeps the doctor away! It's the best medicine in the world. And it will help your English at the same time! Laugh and learn English! Learn English and laugh!

Catch the baby

    A man is walking down the street in London when he hears a woman screaming and detects a faint smell of burning in the air. He runs down the street and around a corner and sees a huge group of people standing watching a blazing building. On the tenth floor of the building a woman, clutching a bundle to her chest, is leaning out of a window screaming for someone to save her baby.

    The man steps forward and calls up to the woman, "Throw down your baby and I'll catch it!"

    "No! No!" the woman shouts back. "You might miss or drop my baby and she'll be killed!"

    "No I won't!" shouts the man. "I am David Seaman. I was the goalkeeper for England in Euro 96 and I didn't miss a match all through the tournament. In all that time I only let the ball into my net a few times."

    "What? Hardly ever?" calls the woman.

    "Yes!" shouts back the man. "Every football player in the land agrees that I was the best keeper in the competition and I'm now worth over 3 million pounds ".

    And with that he adopts the classic goalkeepers stance - legs apart and slightly bent at the knees, body slightly bent forward at the waist and with his arms stretched downwards at a slight angle away from his body, with palms facing forward.

    "OK!" screams the woman. "I'll trust you. I've no choice! Here she comes!"

So, with the flames roaring all around her, the woman throws the baby from the window. However, the edge of the baby's shawl catches on the woman's watch with the result that the child goes spinning off to one side, tumbling head over heels and with her little arms and legs flailing.

    The woman screams and the crowd gasps, all sure that the baby will perish because she will fall out of reach of the man.

    The man remains motionless as the child descends, spinning and tumbling further and further away from him as she comes. Then when the baby is only feet from hitting the ground the man dives a full 30 feet across the pavement, catches the baby in his outstretched right hand, pulls her in towards his chest and shields her body with his left hand and arm. He hits the ground heavily on his right side and lies motionless on the pavement for a few seconds. Then, slowly, he raises himself to his feet and turns to face the crowd and everyone sees that the child is alive.

    The crowd is awe-struck. Then the crowd erupts with cheers and the woman, still in danger herself, nearly faints with relief. The man, still clutching the child to his chest in his right arm, waves to the crowd of onlookers to acknowledge their appreciation.

Then, slowly and gracefully, he turns away from them, bounces the baby twice on the ground, and kicks her 60 yards down the road.....

 

Thursday, 20 February 03

    Ronald Carter, the world-famous professor, gave us a lecture again this morning on literature and language. He taught us a poem as an example showing us how language is used in poems and how poems use language from ordinary language. Teaching poems is language-based approach.

    He began to write the first line, asking us to predict the next line, then line by line.

Popcorn can cover

Screwed on the wall

Over a hole

So the cold

Can’t _________in.

    He left the last line a blank for us to discuss what the right word should be. We were activated and gave many words that might be possible such as “drop, pop, sneak, slip, come, crawl etc.

    At last he wrote on the blank “mouse”. It gave us a shock and was really beyond our expectation. But immediately I felt the word was so wonderfully used here. Carter said that was the language awareness. We should motivate students thinking at class. The variety of answers is not important. The key point is to ask them to work and discuss. A good literature lesson is also a good language lesson. Students are learning language in a process-based way. They are fully involved in language learning.

   

Our Lord

Three Catholic women and an older Jewish lady were having coffee. The first Catholic woman tells her friends "My son is a priest. When he walks into a room, everyone calls him 'Father.'"

The second woman chirps, "My son is a bishop. Whenever he walks into a room, people call him 'Your Grace'."

The third old woman says "My son is a cardinal. Whenever he walks into a room, he's called 'Your Eminence'".

As the little old Jewish lady sips her coffee in silence, the first three give her this subtle "Well...?" look.

So she says: "My son is 6'5"; he has broad, square shoulders, lean hips and is very muscular; he's terribly handsome, has beautiful hair, dresses very well and always smells wonderful. Whenever he walks into a room, women say 'Oh, my God...'.

 

Friday, 21 February 2003

    It is my mother’s one year death memorial day today. I couldn’t help thinking of many of the things that mother did for us.

    I remember when I was 11 years old, mother was working outdoors that cold winter. It was not far from my school. So after school I often went to her working place. She was building barns using yellow mud mixed with straw. Her hands were stiff with cold and split open. The wind was blowing hard. I was hiding in the half-built barn while mother was standing on the scaffold with other workers going on building by piling up the yellow mud straw. Sometimes when it was raining, all the workers didn’t take a rest. They had to continue their working or the mud would be washed away by the rain. They must work till the cover was built for the barn. She was caught in the rain, wet all over, with her hands throwing the mud straw on the top of the wall to make it stuck. She was risking her life for the poor money, 0.80 yuan every day. I think her rheumatic heart disease which finally killed her, must have something to do with the tough job.

    I will never forget another thing that has impressed upon my mind deeply. That happened after the harvest time every summer when I was very young. Farmers were asked to hand in the rice grain to the government. Then some people must be organized to lift the large bamboo baskets of grain to the weighing place and then got the grain into the barn. There were a lot of boats waiting in the long queue on the river. Mother participated in the lifting team. She lifted one basket after another. From the bank to the barn there were about 50 metres. She went back and forth without stop. Her small weak shoulder was loaded one after another, the heavy basket of grain, usually over 50 kilograms. I couldn’t bear to see mother working in this way. Once I persuaded mother to let me have a try. The young man, mother’s partner, was kind. He let most of the weight fall on his end, so I could lift the basket and walked to the weighing place. But it was difficult for me to walk onto the gangplank leading to the barn where the grain was piled up taller and taller. Mother ran to me and took over the shoulder pole from me. I saw her back figure moving on the gangplank with difficult. My eyes burst into tears. Such a job would last till about 2 o’clock early morning. When mother went back home, her clothes were all wet with sweat and her shoulder was red and swollen. Mother was firm though she was small and short. The next day she went to do the same job again. She just risked her life to earn one fen for each heavy basket! Sometimes I think how her weak body could hold so heavy a load.

    In order to raise three children and support our study, she knew it’s far more than enough on father’s low salary. She did all she could to do odd jobs, washing plastics for a factory in cold winter, working in a dirty plastic factory etc.

    When all the hard days went by, it ought to be good time for mother to enjoy a happy and relaxing life, but she got ill in 1989. She suffered from the rheumatic heart disease and finally left us this day last year.

    Mother once wished when I was a little boy that I would go to college, be a postgraduate student and finally go to abroad to study. Now her wish has become true. I often think it’s my mother who’s blessing me. She was a Buddhist, praying for us three children and our children always.

    Mother, rest in peace! Though I can’t come to your tomb to attend the memorial ceremony, I write this to remember you forever.

  

 

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