Supply the given below words and word combinations with their Russian equivalents and remember the contexts in which they are used

Manhood

By John Wain

Swiftly free-wheeling, their breath coming easily, the man and the boy steered their bicycles down the short dip which led them from woodland into open country. Then they looked ahead and saw that the road began to climb.

"Now, Rob," said Mr Willison, settling his plump haunches firmly on the saddle, "just up that rise and we'll get off and have a good rest."

"Can't we rest now?" the boy asked. "My legs feel all funny. As if they're turning to water."

"Rest at the top," said Mr Willison firmly. "Remember what I told you? The first thing any athlete has to learn is to break the fatigue barrier."

'I've broken it already. I was feeling tired when we were going along the main road and I -"

'When fatigue sets in, the thing to do is to keep going until it wears off. Then you get your second wind and your second endurance."

"I've already done that."

'Up we go," said Mr Willison, "and at the top we'll have a good rest." He panted slightly and stood on his pedals, causing his machine to sway from side to side in a laboured manner. Rob, falling silent, pushed doggedly at his pedals. Slowly, the pair wavered up the straight road to the top. Once there,

Mr. Willison dismounted with exaggerated steadiness, laid his bicycle carefully its side, and spread his jacket on the ground before sinking down to rest. Rob slid hastily from the saddle and flung himself full-length onthe grass.

"Don't lie there," said his father. "You'll catch cold."

“I'm all right. I'm warm."

"Come and sit on this. When you're over-heated, that's just when you're prone to-"

“I'm all right, Dad. I want to lie here, my back aches."

"Your back needs strengthening, that's why it aches. It's a pity we don't live near a river where you could get some rowing."

The boy did not answer, and Mr Willison, aware that he was beginning to sound like a nagging, over-anxious parent, allowed himself to be defeated and did not press the suggestion about Rob's coming to sit on his jacket. Instead, he waited a moment and then glanced at his watch.

"Twenty to twelve. We must get going in a minute."

"What? I thought we were going to have a rest."

"Well, we're having one, aren't we?" said Mr Willison reasonably.

"I've got my breath back, so surely you must have."

"My back still aches. I want to lie here a bit."

"Sorry," said Mr Willison, getting up and moving over to his bicycle.

"We've got at least twelve miles to do and lunch is at one."

"Dad, why did we have to come so far if we've got to get back for one o'clock? I know, let's find a telephone box and ring up Mum and tell her we -"

"Nothing doing. There's no reason why two fit men shouldn't cycle twelve miles in an hour and ten minutes."

"But we've already done about a million miles."

"We've done about fourteen, by my estimation," said Mr Willison stiffly.

"What's the good of going for a bike ride if you don't cover a bit of distance?”

He picked up his bicycle and stood waiting. Rob, with his hand over his eyes, lay motionless on the grass. His legs looked thin and white among the rich grass.

"Come on, Rob."

The boy showed no sign of having heard. Mr Willison got on to his bicycle and began to ride slowly away. "Rob," he called over his shoulder, "I'm going."

Rob lay like a sullen corpse by the roadside. He looked horribly like thevictim of an accident, unmarked but dead from internal injuries. Mr Willison cycled fifty yards, then a hundred, then turned in a short, irritable circle and came back to where his son lay.

"Rob, is there something the matter or are you just being awkward?"

The boy removed his hand and looked up into his father's face. His eyes were surprisingly mild: there was no fire of rebellion in them.

"I'm tired and my back aches. I can't go on yet."

"Look, Rob," said Mr Willison gently, "I wasn't going to tell you this, because I meant it to be a surprise, but when you get home you'll find apresent waiting for you."

"What kind of present?"

"Something very special I've bought for you. The man's coming this morning to fix it up. That's one reason why I suggested a bike ride thismorning. He'll have done it by now."

"What is it?"

"Aha! It's a surprise. Come on, get on your bike and let's go home and see.”

Rob sat up, then slowly clambered to his feet. "Isn't there a short cut home?"

"I'm afraid not. It's only twelve miles."

Rob said nothing.

"And a lot of that's downhill," Mr Willison added brightly. His own legs were tired and his muscles fluttered unpleasantly. In addition, he suddenly realized he was very thirsty. Rob, still without speaking, picked up his bicycle, and they pedalled away.

Where is he?" Mrs Willison asked, coming into the garage.

"Gone up to his room," said Mr Willison. He doubled his fist and gave the punch-ball a thudding blow. "Seems to have fixed it pretty firmly. You gave him the instructions, I suppose."

"What's he doing up in his room? It's lunch-time."

"He said he wanted to rest a bit."

“I hope you're satisfied," said Mrs Willison. " A lad of thirteen, nearly fourteen years of age, just when he should have a really big appetite, and when the lunch is put on the table he's resting -"

“Now look, I know what I'm-"

"Lying down in his room, resting, too tired to eat because you've dragged him up hill and down dale on one of your-"

”We did nothing that couldn't be reasonably expected of a boy of his age."

“How do you know?" Mrs Willison demanded. "You never did anything that kind when you were a boy. How do you know what can be reasonably-"

"Now look," said Mr Willison again. "When I was a boy, it was study, study, study all the time, with the fear of unemployment and insecurity in everybody's mind. I was never even given a bicycle. I never boxed, I never rowed, I never did anything to develop my physique. It was just work, work, work, pass this exam, get that certificate. Well, I did it and now I'm qualified and in a secure job. But you know as well as I do that they let me down. Nobody encouraged me to build myself up."

"Well, what does it matter? You're all right-"

"Grace!" Mr Willison interrupted sharply. "I am not all right and you know it. I am under average height, my chest is flat and I'm -"

"What nonsense. You're taller than I am and I'm -"

"No son of mine is going to grow up with the same wretched physical heritage that I -"

"No, he'll just have heart disease through overtaxing his strength, because you haven't got the common sense to -"

"His heart is one hundred per cent all right. Not three weeks have gone by since the doctor looked at him."

"Well, why does he get so over-tired if he's all right? Why is he lying down now instead of coming to the table, a boy of his age?"

A slender shadow blocked part of the dazzling sun in the doorway. Looking up simultaneously, the Willisons greeted their son.

"Lunch ready, Mum? I'm hungry."

"Ready when you are," Grace Willison beamed. "Just wash your hands and come to the table."

"Look, Rob," said Mr Willison. "If you hit it with your left hand and then catch it on the rebound with your right, it's excellent ring training." He dealt the punch-ball two amateurish blows. "That's what they call a right cross,"he said.

"I think it's fine. I'll have some fun with it," said Rob. He watched mildly as his father peeled off the padded mittens.

"Here, slip these on," said Mr Willison. "They're just training gloves. They harden your fists. Of course, we can get a pair of proper gloves later. But these are specially for use with the ball."

"Lunch," called Mrs Willison from the house.

"Take a punch at it," Mr Willison urged.

"Let's go and eat."

"Go on. One punch before you go in. I haven't seen you hit it yet."

Rob took the gloves, put on the right-hand one, and gave the punch-ball one conscientious blow, aiming at the exact centre.

"Now let's go in," he said.

"Lunch!"

"All right. We're coming ..."

"Five feet eight, Rob," said Mr Willison, folding up the wooden ruler.

"You're taller than I am. This is a great landmark."

"Only just taller."

"But you're growing all the time. Now all you have to do is to start growing outwards as well as upwards. We'll have you in the middle of that scrum. The heaviest forward in the pack."

Rob picked up his shirt and began uncertainly poking his arms into the sleeves.

"When do they pick the team?" Mr Willison asked. "I should have thought they'd have done it by now."

"They have done it," said Rob. He bent down to pick up his socks from under a chair.

"They have? And you-"

"I wasn't selected," said the boy, looking intently at the socks as if trying to detect minute differences in colour and weave.

Mr Willison opened his mouth, closed it again, and stood for a moment looking out of the window. Then he gently laid his hand on his son's shoulder.

“Bad luck," he said quietly.

"I tried hard," said Rob quickly.

"I'm sure you did."

"I played my hardest in the trial games."

"It's just bad luck," said Mr Willison. "It could happen to anybody."

There was silence as they both continued with their dressing. A faint smell of frying rose into the air, and they could hear Mrs Willison laying the table for breakfast.

"That's it, then, for this season," said Mr Willison, as if to himself.

"I forgot to tell you, though," said Rob. "I was selected for the boxing team,"

"You were? I didn't know the school had one."

"It's new. Just formed. They had some trials for it at the end of last term.

I found my punching was better than most people's because I'd been getting plenty of practice with the ball."

Mr Willison put out a hand and felt Rob's biceps. "Not bad, not bad at all," he said critically. "But if you're going to be a boxer and represent the school, you'll need more power up there. I tell you what. We'll train together."

"That'll be fun," said Rob. "I'm training at school too."

"What weight do they put you in?"

"It isn't weight, it's age. Under fifteen. Then when you get over fifteen you get classified into weights."

"Well," said Mr Willison, tying his tie, "you'll be in a good position for the under-fifteens. You've got six months to play with. And there's no reason why you shouldn't steadily put muscle on all the time. I suppose you'll be entered as a team, for tournaments and things?"

"Yes. There's a big one at the end of next term. I'll be in that."

Confident, joking, they went down to breakfast. "Two eggs for Rob, Mum," said Mr Willison. "He's in training. He's going to be a heavyweight."

"A heavyweight what?" Mrs Willison asked, teapot in hand.

"Boxer," Rob smiled.

Grace Willison put down the teapot, her lips compressed, and looked from one to the other. "Boxing? she repeated.

"Boxing," Mr Willison replied calmly.

"Over my dead body," said Mrs Willison. "That's one sport I'm definite that he's never going in for."

"Too late. They've picked him for the under-fifteens. He's had trials and everything."

"Is this true, Rob?" she demanded.

"Yes," said the boy, eating rapidly.

"Well, you can just tell them you're dropping it. Baroness Summerskill -"

"To hell with Baroness Summerskill!" her husband shouted. "The first time he gets a chance to do something, the first time he gets picked for a team and given a chance to show what he's made of, and you have to bring up Baroness Summerskill."

"But it injures their brains! All those blows on the front of the skull. I've read about it-"

"Injures their brains!" Mr Willison snorted. "Has it injured Ingemar

Johansson's brain? Why, he's one of the acutest business men in the world!"

"Rob," said Mrs Willison steadily, "when you get to school, go and see the sports master and tell him you're giving up boxing."

"There isn't a sports master. All the masters do bits of it at different times."

"There must be one who's in charge of the boxing. All you have to do is tell him -"

"Are you ready, Rob?" said Mr Willison. "You'll be late for school if you don't go."

"I'm in plenty of time, Dad. I haven't finished my breakfast."

"Never mind, push along, old son. You've had your egg and bacon, that's what matters. I want to talk to your mother."

Cramming a piece of dry toast into his mouth, the boy picked up his satchel and wandered from the room. Husband and wife sat back, glaring hot-eyed at each other.

The quarrel began, and continued for many days. In the end it was decided that Rob should continue boxing until he had represented the school at the tournament in March of the following year, and should then give it up.

"Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, a hundred," Mr Willison counted. "Right, that's it. Now go and take your shower and get into bed."

"I don't feel tired, honestly," Rob protested.

"Who's manager here, you or me?" Mr Willison asked bluffly. "I'm in charge of training and you can't say my methods don't work. Fifteen solid weeks and you start questioning my decisions on the very night of the fight."

"It just seems silly to go to bed when I'm not-"

"My dear Rob, please trust me. No boxer ever went into a big fight without spending an hour or two in bed, resting, just before going to his dressing- room."

"All right. But I bet none of the others are bothering to do all this."

"That's exactly why you're going to be better than the others. Now go and get your shower before you catch cold. Leave the skipping-rope, I'll put it away."

After Rob had gone, Mr Willison folded the skipping-rope into a neat ball and packed it away in the case that contained the boy's gloves, silk dressing own, lace-up boxing boots, and trunks with the school badge sewn into the correct position on the right leg. There would be no harm in a little skipping, to limber up and conquer his nervousness while waiting to go on. Humming, he snapped down the catches of the small leather case and went into the house.

Mrs Willison did not lift her eyes from the television set as he entered. "All ready now, Mother," said Mr Willison. "He's going to rest in bed now, and go along at about six o'clock. I'll go with him and wait till the doors open to be sure of a ringside seat." He sat down on the sofa beside his wife, and tried to put his arm round her. "Come on, love," he said coaxingly. "Don't spoil my big night."

She turned to him and he was startled to see her eyes brimming with angry tears. "What about my big night?" she asked, her voice harsh. "Fourteen years ago, remember? When he came into the world."

"Well, what about it?" Mr Willison parried, uneasily aware that the television set was quacking and signalling on the fringe of his attention, turning the scene from clumsy tragedy into a clumsier farce.

"Why didn't you tell me then?" she sobbed. "Why did you let me have a son if all you were interested in was having him punched to death by a lot of rough bullet-headed louts who -"

"Take a grip on yourself, Grace. A punch on the nose won't hurt him."

"You're an unnatural father," she keened. "I don't know how you can bear to send him into that ring to be beaten and thumped - Oh, why can't you stop him now? Keep him at home? There's no law compels us to -"

"That's where you're wrong, Grace," said Mr Willison sternly. "There is a law. The unalterable law of nature that says that the young males of the species indulge in manly trials of strength. Think of all the other lads who are going into the ring tonight. D'you think their mothers are sitting about crying and kicking up a fuss? No - they're proud to have strong, masculine sons who can stand up in the ring and take a few punches."

"Go away, please," said Mrs Willison, sinking back with closed eyes. "Just go right away and don't come near me until it's all over."

"Grace!"

"Please. Please leave me alone. I can't bear to look at you and I can't bear to hear you."

"You're hysterical," said Mr Willison bitterly. Rising, he went out into the hall and called up the stairs. "Are you in bed, Rob?"

There was a slight pause and the Rob's voice called faintly, "Could you come up, Dad?"

"Come up? Why? Is something the matter?"

"Could you come up?"

Mr Willison ran up the stairs. "What is it?" he panted. "D'you want something?"

"I think I've got appendicitis," said Rob. He lay squinting among the pillows, his face suddenly narrow and crafty.

"I don't believe you," said Mr Willison shortly. "I've supervised your training for fifteen weeks and I know you're as fit as a fiddle. You can't possibly have anything wrong with you."

"I've got a terrible pain in my side," said Rob. "Low down on the right-hand side. That's where appendicitis comes, isn't it?"

Mr Willison sat down on the bed. "Listen, Rob," he said. "Don't do this to me. All I'm asking you to do is to go into the ring and have one bout.

You've been picked for the school team and everyone's depending on you."

"I'll die if you don't get the doctor." Rob suddenly hissed. "Mum!" he shouted.

Mrs Willison came bounding up the stairs. "What is it, my pet?"

"My stomach hurts. Low down on the right-hand side."

"Appendicitis!" She whirled to face Mr Willison. "That's what comes of your foolishness!"

"I don't believe it," said Mr Willison. He went out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The television was still jabbering in the living-room, and for fifteen minutes Mr Willison forced himself to sit staring at the strident puppets, glistening in metallic light, as they enacted their Lilliputian rituals.

Then he went up to the bedroom again. Mrs Willison was bathing Rob's forehead.

"His temperature's normal," she said.

"Of course his temperature's normal," said Mr Willison. 'He doesn't want to fight, that's all."

"Fetch the doctor," said a voice from under the cold flannel that swathed Rob's face.

"We will, pet, if you don't get better very soon," said Mrs Willison, darting a murderous glance at her husband.

Mr Willison slowly went downstairs. For a moment he stood looking at the telephone, then picked it up and dialled the number of the grammar school.

No one answered. He replaced the receiver, went to the foot of the stairs and called, "What's the name of the master in charge of this tournament?"

"I don't know," Rob called weakly.

“You told me you'd been training with Mr Granger," Mr Willison called. "Would he know anything about it?"

Rob did not answer, so Mr Willison looked up all the Grangers in the telephone book. There were four in the town, but only one was M.A. "That's him," said Mr Willison. With lead in his heart and ice in his fingers, he dialed the number. Mrs Granger fetched Mr Granger. Yes, he taught at the school. He was the right man. What could he do for Mr Willison?

"It's about tonight's boxing tournament."

“Sorry, what? The line's bad."

“Tonight's boxing tournament."

“Have you got the right person?"

“You teach my son, Rob - we've just agreed on that. Well, it's about the boxing tournament he's supposed to be taking part in tonight."

“Where?"

“Where? At the school, of course. He's representing the under-fifteens."

There was a pause. "I'm not quite sure what mistake you're making Mr Willison, but I think you've got hold of the wrong end of at least one stick." A hearty, defensive laugh. "If Rob belongs to a boxing club it's certainly news to me, but in any case it can't be anything to do with the school. We don't go in for boxing."

"Don't go in for it?"

"We don't offer it. It's not in our curriculum."

"Oh," said Mr Willison. "Oh. Thank you. I must have - well, thank you."

"Not at all. I'm glad to answer any queries. Everything's all right, I trust?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr Willison, "yes, thanks. Everything's all right."

He put down the telephone, hesitated, then turned and began slowly to climb the stairs.

TASKS AND EXERCISES

PRE-READING TASKS:

Answer the questions:

-What role does sport play in a child’s life?

-Should all boys and girls be made to do some sport, play some game and take regular exercise? How?

They say that in cycling it never gets easier, you just go faster. Do you agree? Is cycling suited for children? What about boxing?

BUILDING VOCABULARY SKILLS:

Supply the given below words and word combinations with their Russian equivalents and remember the contexts in which they are used.

To wear off

To fix up

To develop one’s physique

To let down

to take a punch at smth

conscientious

to bring up

to turn into smth

to take a grip on oneself

to kick up a fuss

as fit as a fiddle

to get hold of the wrong end of the stick

to answer a query

Find in the story the English equivalents to the following words and expressions:

Второе дыхание

Номер не пройдет! Ни в коем случае!

Отправиться покататься на велосипеде

Надрывать свои силы

Мельчайшие различия

Невезение, неудача

Боксер-тяжеловес

в конце концов

скакалки, прыгалки

схватка, встреча (в боксе)

быть членом клуба

Translate the sentences from English into Russian. Pay attention to the italicized vocabulary items.

a) Don’t buy a cheap carpet. Children running in and out will soon wear the pile off.

b) I bring this story up now only to compare my experience with that of my unhappy fellow.

c) She kicks up a fuss every time I'm late.

d) She turned the top floor into a temporary nursery and bedroom.

e) We climbed with labored breathing for half an hour, but in the end got our second wind and went up more easily.

f) And you've got hold of the wrong end of the stick,’ he added. ‘I have no intention of marrying Rose.’

g) The girl took a grip on herself and tried to think. The thing to do was to find a way out.

h) She got so mad that she took a punch at him.

i) Then my girl asked me to marry her. I told her there was nothing doing.

When will you say the following?

a) He’s been let down so much in the past!

b) Does anyone want to bring up anything further?

c) He’s 86 but as fit as a fiddle!

d) Me, go to the opera? Nothing doing!

e) Bad luck!

f) Why kick up a fuss? The soup isn’t salty at all!

Translate from Russian into English.

a) Потом тренер поднял вопрос о тренировках. Он сказал, что чтобы развивать свои физические данные, боксеры ежедневно прыгают со скакалочкой. Одни боксерские матчи не превратят нас в настоящих профессионалов. И если мы являемся членами клуба, мы должны придерживаться этих правил.

b) Мне кажется, ты неправильно понял ту ситуацию. Добросовестный работник никогда бы не понял шум из-за пустяка. Вероятно, он не смог удержать себя в руках из-за семейных неурядиц.

c) Если бы ты вчера не отправился покататься на велосипеде, ты бы не подорвал свои силы. Ты не сможешь участвовать в завтрашнем поединке. – Ничего подобного! Я абсолютно здоров!

Insert the right prepositions and adverbs where necessary to make the sentences complete. Check your answers by finding the exact sentences.

a) There’s no reason why two fit men shouldn’t cycle twelve miles … an hour and ten minutes.

b) We did nothing that couldn’t be reasonably expected … a boy … his age.

c) A slender shadow blocked part … the dazzling sun … the doorway. Looking … simultaneously, the Willisons greeted their son.

d) Rob took the gloves, put … the right-hand one, and gave the punch-ball one conscientious blow, aiming … the exact centre.

e) The first time he gets a chance … something, the first time he gets picked ... a team and given a chance to show what he’s made …, and you have to bring … Baroness Summerskill.

f) … the end it was decided that Robshould continue boxing until he had represented the school …the tournament …March …the following year, and should then give it ….

g) You’ve been picked … the school team and everyone’s depending … you.

Mr Willison asked “Who’s manager here, you or me?” Do you know any other words denoting a person who controls the training of a person or a team? Consult a dictionary.

a) Make sure you understand the difference between the verbs “to breathe” (to take in air into the lungs and send it out) and “to pant” (to breathe with noisy deep gasps when a person is out of breath from exertion or excitement). Which of them and why did the author use to describe Mr Willison’s way of cycling?

Look through the story again and fill in the following table borrowing the words and word combinations from the text. Then consult a dictionary and add some more sports and the corresponding equipment.

Sport	Equipment
	gloves, a punch-ball…
cycling

BUILDING GRAMMAR SKILLS:

Use the right form of the verbs in brackets. Check your answers by finding the exact sentences.

a) “When you …(get) home you …(find) a present waiting for you.” – “What kind of present?” – “Something very special I …(buy) for you. The man …(come) this morning to fix it.”

b) “His heart is one hundred per cent all right. Not three weeks …(go) since the doctor …(look) at him.”

c) “I found my punching …(be) better than most people’s because I …(get) plenty of practice with the ball.”

d) The quarrel began and …(continue) for many days. In the end it …(decide) that Rob should continue boxing until he …(represent) the school at the tournament in March.

e) After Rob …(go), Mr Willison …(fold) the skiping-rope into a neat ball and …(pack) it away in the case.

f) “I …( die) if you …(not get) the doctor.”

g) He went out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The television …(jabber) in the living-room, and for fifteen minutes Mr Willison …(force) himself to sit …(stare) at the strident puppets, …(glisten) in the metallic light. Then he …(go) up to the bedroom again. Mrs Willison …(bathe) Rob’s forehead.

h) I’m not quite sure what mistake you …(make), Mr Willison, but I …(think) you ...(get) hold of the wrong end of at least one stick.

Change direct speech into indirect in the above exercise. Do you remember who the utterances belong to?

READING COMPREHENSION:

14. Discuss the plot of the story answering the following questions:

a) Where did the father and son go cycling?

b) What is a proper sportsman like from the father’s point of view?

c) Did Rob really have a weak back?

d) Why do you think Rob said they had already done a million miles? How many miles had they done?

e) What present did Rob find when he got home?

f) Why was Mr Willison happy?

g) How did Mrs Willison feel?

h) Was Rob selected for the school boxing or rugby team?

i) Why did Mr Willison call his wife a hysterical woman?

j) Why didn’t Mr Willison believe Rob?

k) Why didn’t Mr Granger understand what Mr Willison meant?

15. Do this small quiz to test how well you remember the details of the story:

A.Mr Willison thinks that using a skipping-rope is:

1. good exercise.

2. soothing all boxers do.

3. a way to conquer nervousness.

4. something which will build up Rob’s muscles.

B.When Grace Willison says, ”What about MY big night?” she is referring to:

1. her wedding night.

2. the night she was born.

3. the night she met her future husband.

4. the night Rob was born.

C.Rob’s leather case contained all the equipment for boxing:

1. his skipping-rope, gloves and trunks.

2. his dressing gown, gloves, boots and trunks.

3. his dressing gown, gloves, boots, trunks and a skipping-rope.

4. a punch-ball and padded mittens.

D.How old was Rob?

1. 14

2. over 15

3. about 12

4. 7

E.Mr Granger:

1. was ready to help Mr Willison.

2. gave a defensive laugh.

3. was disappointed.

4. was glad that Rob belonged to a boxing-club.

Read the sentences and say whether they are right or wrong. Сorrect the false ones.

a) At the beginning if the story Mr Willison suggests that he and Rob should rest for a while before they start cycling up the hill.

b) Both Mr Willison and his son are in good physical shape.

c) Mr Willison and Rob are eager to return home only to enjoy the dinner they know Mrs Willison has prepared for them.

d) Mr and Mrs Willison are in agreement about how to bring up their son Rob.

e) When Mr Willison was Rob’s age he did nothing but study.

f) Rob is delighted because he’s been chosen to play with the school rugby team.

g) Mrs Willison is eager to help with Rob’s training.

h) Mrs Willison is worried about her son’s taking part in the tournament.

i) Mr Granger assures Mr Willison that boxing isn’t on the school curriculum.

Mr Willison described his childhood. List the facts that explain why he was pushing Rob so hard.

Did you expect the story to end in such a way? What could happen next, after the events described in the story? What do you think the father will do?

Account for the title of the story. Think of another title.

DISCUSSING THE BOOK:

Answer the questions based on the story.

a) Are the three members of the family on good terms? Describe their relations.

b) Do you think Mr Willison is a good father? Is Mrs Willison a good mother? What is worse: parents who over-protect their children or parents who don’t bother about them? To what extent do parents have the right to intrude into their children’s life? Consider dress, health, extra-curricular activities, money, smoking…

c) Do fathers and mothers usually have different views on how to bring up children?

d) Why did Mrs Willison call him “an unnatural father”? Do you think so too?

e) Why do you think Rob made up a story about his going in for boxing?

What do you consider to be the theme of the story?

a) Generation gap.

b) What we want our children to be.

c) Life of a family and a family conflict.

What do you consider to be the message of the story?

a) Every family is unhappy in its own way.

b) Every man has his own life to live.

c) Don’t make out of your child a compensation for your own losses.

Comment on the following quotations. How are the characters revealed in them?

a) Rob, falling silent, pushed doggedly at his pedals.

b) Mr Willison, aware that he was beginning to sound like a nagging, over-anxious parent, allowed himself to be defeated and did not press the suggestion about Rob’s coming to sit on his jacket.

c) Rob…looked horribly like the victim of an accident, unmarked but dead from internal injuries.

d) His eyes were surprisingly mild: there was no fire of rebellion in them.

e) When I was a boy…it was just work, work, work, pass this exam, get that certificate. Well, I did it and now I’m qualified and in a secure job. But you know as well as I do that they let me down.

f) No son of mine is going to grow up with the same wretched physical heritage…

g) Rob took the gloves, put on the right-hand one, and gave the punch-ball one conscientious blow…

h) Rob picked up his shirt and began uncertainly poking his arms into the sleeves.

i) Over my dead body… That’s one sport I’m definite that he’s never going in for.

j) Please leave me alone. I can’t bear to look at you and I can’t bear to hear you.

Look through the story again and refer the following adjectives to the characters: passive, strict, worried about smth, very ambitious, resigned, pushy, insensitive, over-protective, ready to please. Account for your choice.

Mrs Willison’s first name is Grace. Look up the word grace in your dictionary. Why do you think the writer has chosen to give her this name? We don’t know Mr Willison’s first name. Why?

“A thin shadow blocked out part of the sunlight” We know that this thin shadow is Rob What is the symbolism of this image?

To describe the state Mr Willison was in the author writes: “With lead in his heart and ice in his fingers, he dialed the number”. What stylistic device is used?

Express your own opinion on the following quotations from the story. Discuss them in pairs.

a) But it (boxing) injures their brains! All those blows on the front of the scull.

b) There is a law. The unalterable law of nature that says that the young males of the species indulge in many trials of strength.

Comment on these statements borrowed from the story.

a) The first thing any athlete has to learn is to break the fatigue barrier.

b) When fatigue sets in, the things to do is to keep going until it wears off. Then you get your second wind and your second endurance.

Do a quick reading of the story and find the information about Ingemar Johansson. Do you know that Jens Ingemar Johansson (1932 – 2009) was a Swedish boxer and former heavyweight champion of the world? Do you know any other world champions? What does their fame rest on?

CONSOLIDATION: