Listen To This1lesson 30

Lesson Thirty
Section One:
Tapescript.
Telephone Conversations:
(1)
(Ringing of phone)
Woman: Four six hour oh. Can I help you?
Narrator: Stop.
(2)
Man: His line’s busy at the moment. Do you want to hold?
Narrator: Stop.
(3)
Woman: There’s no reply on that number. I’ll try Mr. Shaw.
Narrator: Stop.
(4)
(Ringing of phone)
Man: This is Karim Premji speaking. I’m afraid I’m out of the office at the moment. If you could leave your name and number when you hear the tone, I’l1 get back to you as soon as possible.
(Tone)
Narrator: Stop.

Section Two:
Tapescript.
A. Offers:
Henry: Cigarette?
Tony: Oh ... er ... thanks, Henry... Um, do you have a light?
Henry: Sorry. Here.
Tony: Thanks. Lovely day. Pity I’m on duty.
Henry: I’ll stand in for you if you like. I’ve got nothing else to do.
Tony: Oh no, I couldn’t possibly...
Henry: Go on. Go off and have a good time. Here—you can have the Mini if you like.
Tony: But... are you sure, Henry?
Henry: Of course I am. Take Jill up the mountains, or something.
Tony: That’s ever so good of you, Henry. Oh, you ... er ... you won’t tell anyone, will you ... I mean, I am on duty.
Henry: Not a word. Bye, Tony—enjoy yourself.
Tony: Thanks, Henry. I won’t forget this ...
Henry: Damned right you won’t, you poor fool!

B. Dreams:
Three people are describing their dreams.
1. I knew that the brakes of my car needed repairing, but I did nothing about it, until one night I dreamt I was driving my car along a familiar road. Suddenly I had to brake because I was driving towards a wall. However, when I put my foot on the brake nothing happened and I crashed into the wall.

2. I was walking down an unfamiliar road when I reached a dark and miserable house. Grey clouds covered the sky, and so I went inside the house where I found a poor, pathetic person, wearing clothes similar to those my wife wore. I didn’t recognize her and felt sorry for her. There was nothing else in the dream but when I woke the next morning, I felt the misery and unhappiness of it all day.

3. One day I was sitting in my office, listening to a group of colleagues whispering and talking about me. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but it worried me. That night I dreamt exactly the same sequence again, except that in my dream I saw something I’d missed during the day. While they were whispering they were all looking down at something. The next morning when I woke up I realized exactly why they’d been whispering and talking about me. That day was my birthday. Wasn’t it possible that they’d been looking down at a birthday card? My dream was right. I did get a card from my colleagues, whom I’d suspected of talking about me.

C. Faults:
Woman: The trouble with education in Britain, I think, lies with the teachers. I don’t think teachers get nearly enough training in actually how to teach rather than the subject. I think they’re too serious, too academic, they’re not imaginative enough. And that means that there’s not enough excitement in the classroom for children to get interested in the subject.
Man: Yes, I agree. I think there’s too much theoretical teaching given and not enough practical education, with the result that pupils are far too busy studying for exams to have time to learn about life itself and how to, how to live in the world.
Woman: Mm. I think all teachers should be at least twenty—five before they start teaching. I think they should be forced to live in the outside world, rather than go from the classroom to the university and back to the classroom again.

D. A Japanese Girl:
I had a working mother when I was a young girl. She went back to work when I was ten and my brother was fourteen. She taught at a school of dress design. I studied English at university. Then I got a job with an advertising agency as an assistant. I studied English so I could get a good job with a good company. In 1980 I went abroad with a friend. We spent a month in California. Then I worked for a company which sold cassette tapes and books for English conversation. I was still single at twenty-five, then my parents started to worry because their daughter wasn’t married. Our neighbors and relations were asking when I would marry and they began to talk about an arranged marriage. In Japan they don’t force you to marry someone, but they may give you a chance to meet someone. I am very interested in jazz and I met my husband in a jazz club. My parents didn’t want their daughter to marry a foreigner. They didn’t want me to come to England, but now I work in London for a Japanese newspaper.

Section Three:
Tapescript.
A. The Appointment:
Once upon a time, there was a rich Caliph in Baghdad. He was very famous because he was wise and kind. One morning he sent his servant, Abdul, to the market to buy some fruit. As Abdul was walking through the market, he suddenly felt very cold. He knew that somebody was behind him. He turned round and saw a tall man, dressed in black. He couldn’t see the man’s face, only his eyes. The man was staring at him, and Abdul began to shiver.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Abdul asked.
The man in black didn’t reply.
"What’s your name?" Abdul asked nervously.
"I ... am ... Death," the stranger replied coldly and turned away.
Abdul dropped his basket and ran all the way back to the Cal iph’s house. He rushed into the Caliph’s room.
"Excuse me, master. I have to leave Baghdad immediately," Abdul said.
"But why? What’s happened?" the Caliph asked.
"I’ve just met Death in the market," Abdul replied.
"Are you certain?" said the Caliph.
"Yes, I’m certain. He was dressed in black, and he stared at me. I’m going to my father’s house in Samarra. If I go at once, I’ll be there before sunset."
The Caliph could see that Abdul was terrified and gave him permission to go to Samarra.
The Caliph was puzzled. He was fond of Abdul and he was angry because Abdul had been badly frightened by the stranger in the market. He decided to go to the market and investigate. When he found the man in black, he spoke to him angrily.
"Why did you frighten my servant?"
"Who is your servant?" the stranger replied.
"His name is Abdul," answered the Caliph.
"I didn’t want to frighten him. I was just surprised to see him in Baghdad."
"Why were you surprised?" the Caliph asked.
"I was surprised because I’ve got an appointment with him ... tonight... in Samarra!"

B. Legal Advice:
Dennis: You’ve been seeing Steve again, haven’t you?
Cynthia: What are you talking about?
Dennis: You know as well as I do. One of my friends saw you together in a restaurant yesterday evening.
Cynthia: Listen, Dennis. Look, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you. I really was.
Dennis: Well, why didn’t you? Why did you lie to me?
Cynthia: I didn’t lie! How can you say that?
Dennis: Yes, you did! You told me that your relationship with him was all over.
Cynthia: But it is, darling! It ended more than a year ago.
Dennis: Did it? Then why did you go out with him yesterday?
Cynthia: Because he phoned me and said he had some business to discuss with me. What’s wrong with that?
Dennis: Nothing. But if that’s true, why did you tell me you were going to have dinner with your mother yesterday evening?
Cynthia: Because ... because I thought you’d be terribly jealous if I told you I was going to see Steve. And you are.
Dennis: I’m not. I simply can’t understand why you lied to me.
Cynthia: I’ve already told you. But you just won’t believe me.
Dennis: That all you did was discuss business together? Of course, I can’t believe that!
Cynthia: Well, that’s exactly what we did! And it isn’t true that I lied to you about my mother. When I told you that, I intended to see her. But then Steve rang and said he needed my advice about something.
Dennis: About what?
Cynthia: A legal matter.
Dennis: A legal matter? Why should he ask your advice about a legal matter? You aren’t a lawyer.
Cynthia: No, but you are! And that’s what he wanted to talk to me about. You’ve been recommended to him. But before he contacted you, he just wanted to know if I thought you’d be willing to help him. I said I didn’t know.
Dennis: Help your ex-boyfriend? Give him legal advice? I’m not going to do that.
Cynthia: That’s what I thought you’d say. I knew it.

C. At the Police Station:
Policeman: Good morning, madam. Can I help you?
Mrs. Trott: Oh, I do hope so, constable. Something dreadful has happened.
Policeman: Well, sit down and tell me all about it and we’ll see what can be done.
Mrs. Trott: I’ve lost my Harold. I think he’s left me.
Policeman: Oh, it’s a missing person case, is it? Let me just fill in this form, madam. Here we are. Now, the name is Harold. Right?
Mrs. Trott: That’s right; little Harold.
Policeman: I’ll just put ‘Harold’ on the form, madam. What is his second name?
Mrs. Trott: Well, the same as mine, I suppose. Trott. Yes, yes, Harold Trott.
Policeman: Address?
Mrs. Trott: 15 Bermard Street, W12.
Policeman: 15 Bermard Street, W12. And when did you last see Harold, Mrs. Trott?
Mrs. Trott: Early this morning. In the park.
Policeman: And had there been any quarrel? Any argument? Anything which would account for his leaving?
Mrs. Trott: Well, he’d been a very naughty boy so I hit him with a stick and he tried to bite me and I’m afraid he got very angry and just ran away. My little Harold.
Policeman: Yes, madam. I can see that this is very upsetting for you, but I’ll have to ask you a few more questions. Now, what time exactly did you go to the park with Harold?
Mrs. Trott: Oh, eight o’clock. On the dot every day. We go for a nice stroll in the park each morning, you see.
Policeman: Eight o’clock.
Mrs. Trott: Yes, I take him out to do his ... er ... to do his job.
Policeman: Sorry, madam?
Mrs. Trott: His job, you know.
Policeman: Oh. Ah. Er... yes. Er... How old is Harold, madam?
Mrs. Trott: He must be six and a half now.
Policeman: And you have to take him into the park to do his ...
Mrs. Trott: Yes. He loves it.
Policeman: What’s his height?
Mrs. Trott: Oh, I don’t think he could be more than eleven inches tall.
Policeman: Eleven ... er ... we are talking about a little boy, are we not, madam?
Mrs. Trott: A boy? A little boy? Good heavens, no! It’s my Harold, my little Harold.
Policeman: (sighs) Dog or cat, madam?
Mrs. Trott: Dog, of course. You couldn’t call a cat Harold, could you?
Policeman: Of course not, madam. What breed?
Mrs. Trott: Poodle. From a very good family. He’s a dark brown with lovely velvet fur and has two little white rings on his front feet and a dear little spot on his forehead. Oh, constable, you’ll do everything you can to find him for me, won’t you? And he’ll be wandering around all lost and doesn’t know how to look after himself. He’s so friendly, he’d just follow any stranger…