Three men in a boat / Трое в лодке, не считая собаки. Книга для чтения на английском языке. Джером Клапка Джером

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      8. George said two suits of flannel would be sufficient.

      9. Answer the following questions.

      1. Who reminds of Uncle Podger? Why?

      2. Does Uncle Podger need any help? What help does he need?

      3. Why was the first list of things torn up?

      4. What does the narrator say about our “boats of life”? What does he mean?

      5. How will the friends manage to travel without a tent?

      6. Does the narrator swim much when he goes to the sea-side? Why / why not?

      7. Who protests against Harris having a bath? Why?

      8. Why did George withdraw his opposition?

      9. Why would two suits of flannel be sufficient?

      10. What set of things did the friends decide to take?

      10. Retell the chapter for the persons of the narrator, George, Uncle Podger, Aunt Maria.

      CHAPTER IV

      Then we discussed the food question. George said:

      “Begin with breakfast.” (George is so practical.) “Now for breakfast we shall want a frying pan” – (Harris said it was indigestible) – “a tea-pot and a kettle, and a methylated spirit stove.”

      “No oil,” said George, with a significant look; and Harris and I agreed.

      We had taken up an oil-stove once, but “never again.” It had been like living in an oil-shop that week. It oozed. We kept it in the nose of the boat, and, from there, it oozed down, filling up the whole boat and everything in it on its way, and it oozed over the river, and saturated the scenery and spoilt the atmosphere. Sometimes a westerly oily wind blew, and at other times an easterly oily wind, and sometimes it blew a northerly oily wind, and maybe a southerly oily wind. At the end of that trip we met together at midnight in a lonely field, under an oak, and took an awful oath never to take paraffine oil with us in a boat again. Therefore, in the present instance, we agreed on methylated spirit. Even that is bad enough. You get methylated pie and methylated cake.

      For other breakfast things, George suggested eggs and bacon, which were easy to cook, cold meat, tea, bread and butter, and jam. For lunch, he said, we could have biscuits, cold meat, bread and butter, and jam – but no cheese. Cheese, like oil, makes too much of itself.42 It wants the whole boat to itself. It gives a cheesy flavour to everything else there. You can’t tell whether you are eating apple-pie or German sausage, or strawberries and cream. It all seems cheese. There is too much odour about cheese.

      I remember a friend of mine, buying a couple of cheeses at Liverpool. Splendid cheeses they were, ripe and mellow, and with a strong scent about them that might have knocked a man over at two hundred yards43. I was in Liverpool at the time, and my friend asked me to take them to London.

      “Oh, with pleasure, dear boy,” I replied, “with pleasure.”

      I called for the cheeses, and took them away in a cab. The cab was very old, dragged along by a sick somnambulist, which his owner, in a moment of enthusiasm, during conversation, called a horse. I put the cheeses on the top, and we started off and all went merry as a funeral bell, until we turned the corner. There, the wind carried a whiff from the cheeses on to our horse. It woke him up, and, with a snort of terror, he dashed off at three miles an hour. It took two porters as well as the driver to hold him in at the station; and I do not think they would have done it, if one of the men hadn’t put a handkerchief over the horse’s nose, and lit a bit of brown paper.

      I took my ticket, and marched proudly up the platform, with my cheeses, the people falling back respectfully on either side. The train was crowded, and I had to get into a carriage where there were already seven other people. One grumpy old gentleman objected, but I got in; and, putting my cheeses upon the shelf, squeezed down with a pleasant smile, and said it was a warm day.

      A few moments passed, and then the old gentleman began to fidget.

      “Very close in here,” he said.

      “Quite oppressive,”44 said the man next to him.

      And then they both began sniffing, and, at the third sniff, they caught it right on the chest, and rose up without another word and went out. And then a plump lady got up, and said it was disgraceful that a respectable married woman should be treated in this way, and gathered up a bag and eight parcels and went. Then the other three passengers tried to get out of the door at the same time, and hurt themselves.

      I smiled at the black gentleman, and said I thought we were going to have the carriage to ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some people made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely depressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked him to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into the buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a quarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted anything.

      “What would you like to drink?” I said, turning to my friend.

      “I’ll have half-a-crown’s worth of brandy, neat, if you please, miss,45” he responded.

      And he went off quietly after he had drunk it and got into another carriage, which I thought mean.

      From Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded. As we drew up at the different stations, the people, seeing my empty carriage, would rush for it. “Here you are, Maria; come along, plenty of room.” “All right, Tom; we’ll get in here,” they would shout. And they would run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get in first. And one would open the door and mount the steps, and fall back into the arms of the man behind him; and they would all come and have a sniff, and then go away and squeeze into other carriages, or pay the difference and go first46.

      From Euston, I took the cheeses down to my friend’s house. When his wife came into the room she smelt round for an instant. Then she said:

      “What is it? Tell me the worst.”

      I said:

      “It’s cheeses. Tom bought them in Liverpool, and asked me to bring them up with me.”

      And I added that I hoped she understood that it had nothing to do with me; and she said that she was sure of that, but that she would speak to Tom about it when he came back.

      My friend was detained in Liverpool longer than he expected; and, three days later, as he hadn’t returned home, his wife called on me. She said:

      “What did Tom say about those cheeses?”

      I replied that he had directed they were to be kept in a moist place, and that nobody was to touch them.

      She said:

      “Nobody’s likely to touch them. Had he smelt them?”

      I thought he had, and added that he seemed СКАЧАТЬ