Lyrics to Ms. Kati Svaby

English as a Second Language Playground
21

Hello Kyaw,

I would like to boast of my old English teacher’s letter. I began to learn from him about 5 yeas ago. He is a writer and a poet also + a very good teacher than your Jacky, your British Teacher used to be. He also British.
He wrote to me:
“Dear Kati, it is so nice to hear from you! How are you? Did you have a good Christmas? Your English is excellent! I’m glad you enjoyed the films - they were made by my brother Ashley, the artist in Paris, and were shot on location at the family home in Wiltshire, England. The Lala he talks about is me! mon petit nom by which I’m called in my family, which derives from Alastair. I’ll send you another film he made in Paris. I heard from Alex the other day - we’re probably going to start having lessons again. I hope your health is good and I wish you all happiness in the new year, Ash”

Bye for now:
Kati

22

I’ll catch you up my lady.

kind regards.

kyaw.

23

Dear Mr. Kyaw,

This evening I’ve read the all thread “She is my hero”.
I don’t want to make excuses because not me was the first who began an other theme.

Many thanks, for your incredible kindness as you tried conciliate us.
Now I see and I think Ralf also see that it was an enormous misunderstanding.
Ralf disparaged our commemoration, the poem what Hungarian people recite on this day whether they live in Hungary or in the US, in Canada, in our neighbours countries and everywhere on the world.

Maryjam described that they celebrated at the statue of this poet and recited this poem.This tradition remained at the Hungarian. About this poem nobody thinks what kind of poet was this young man who wrote this proclamation in a form of a poem. Besides,the translation isn’t good, isn’t so animating than the original one.

The lesson of this event that the Hungarian situation can’t be understandable here in the Forum. I never more speak about it, but I read the English and the American newspapers and the article about Hungary I put on the thread of Speaking 20 minutes every day. On 16th Mars I put three articles: The Guardian, New York Times and BBC.

I quoted one sentence from The Guardian:
“Hungarians will not live as foreigners dictate, will not give up their independence or their freedom, therefore they will not give up their constitution either,” he thundered in a speech with strong nationalist overtones."-this is a contemptuous sentence our PM. Bur unfortunately this is true.

I put only this single sentence. What was the reaction? Who answered was at loss to understand it.Because she is clever. There were French our commemoration and they said on TV that France claimed these rights in 1789 in the French Revolution. How could understand a west European who live in democracy I din’t know for how many years? That’s why I forgive Ralf it.

So I never try to make our situation understand with anybody. Who is curious find articles in the best newspapers.

Believe me the situation is terrible.

Dear Mr. Kyaw as you didn’t know what means the nationalism in Europe, and I can explain very difficultly.
Today I wrote on the Google:Did the nationalism contribute to the break-out of WWII? Vast number of articles deal with it.

If you are interested what means the nationalism in Europe write this on the Google.
The nationalism was one of the reason of the outbreak of WWI and WWII.

Many thanks for your friendship.

Kati Svaby

P.S. We should finish poor Margaret Thatcher thread. Perhaps open an Margaret Thatcher 2. thread. What is your opinion. I promise that I will write only about her.

24

Hello Mr. Kyaw,

My Jacky was Ash. He also an English teacher from England.I boasted you once of his letter. Today I received another letter, he wants to come back to Hungary to teach us. He wrote to me.

I would learn with him but not the third one, Alex who is extreme right guy. That’s why I left them earlier because I always disputed with this Alex about our opponent opinion. In the text “jobbik” means extreme right. I am unable to call this guy and to tell him what Ash intends to do.

I hope no problem that I shared with you this letter, I dared to do because I know that you respected your Jacky, and this teacher was my Jacky, a very good teacher.

Best regards:
Kati Svaby

25

Hello Mr. Kyaw,

As you wrote that you like our village, I thought that I take some pics about it. What you see here I’ve taken only the streets,(there is a one single high street and about five or six very short streets.)

In the street of the village the trees and flowers in April 2012 before Easter

[Buildings:

The gate of a peasant house

A shop you can buy everything

A grocery store

Protestant church from a distant

The protestant church more closely

The gate of the church

The pulpit where the priest stands to speak to the people.

Inside of the church

The garden of the church with old tombstones.

Our street.

At the end of the street the port of the ferry and the small Danube.

At the end of the street the view

Regards:
Kati Svaby

26

Dear Mr.Kyaw

I would like to write something cheerful.

Your letter made me sad.

I can’t say anything that the Libra are in bad period now because I can’t say any

cheerful but I don’t like if you sad.

I am in the same state than you. This is a bad period for the Libra.

AFTER RAIN COMES THE SUNSHINE.

Good night. you probably sleeping ,I go to bed now.11:30

Sweet dreams:

Kati

27

Hello Mr. Kyaw,

How are you? I hope you are well. Don’t be angry with me. I am a little foolish and I

speak more than I should do.

If there is somebody in this course whom I would NEVER want to hurt - this is you. I

debated with you about posh, because I didn’t agree with you. But this doesn’t mean

that I was right.

This short video cheered me up. Enjoy it.

youtube.com/watch?v=HECa3bAF … ure=fvwrel

Regards:

Kati

28

Dear Mr. Kyaw,

I don’t understand anything. Where have you disappeared. This Forum is very empty without you. Now I’ve read your letters, and I couldn’t find one single letter where you would have hurt anybody on this Forum. You loved everybody, you could pardon to everybody.

This is incredible you are not here. Lately Alicja’s birthday was, and you didn’t write to her.

Now I really fear for you. What happened with you? Are you ill? Are you depressed ? You told me: That’s a typical Libra mind - yes, I am so depressed that you couldn"t imagine and to write here something it helps me. Now I don’t have any dictionary, and without a dictionary I couldn’t express that I see every day your last letter, and I am waiting for the others.And there isn’t anything.

Please write to us and console us that you are well.

I broke my ankle, and I have been bedridden for 4 weeks, it was terrible and I see that what a luck that I broke my leg now and not 5 years later, because it is very difficult to move with this frame when you have to hold your body on three centers of gravity. On my palms there are calluses, and I jumped - till yesterday - on my left leg only to the bathroom and the kitchen. It is sure that I couldn’t have done it 5 years later. Now I don’t wonder that I heard that people died because they were totally bedridden with their broken leg.

I hope you are healthy. Don’t forget us and PLEASE write to us.We are waiting for your participation HERE, dear Mr. Kyaw.

Best regards:
Kati Svaby

29

F. Tennyson Jesse

THE LACQUER LADY

Preface

A preface is a portentousthing and coming from the author of a novel, may seem to imply an over-valuation, but it would not be honest to issue The Lacquer Lady without thanking those people to whose expert knowledge I am deeply indebted.

To the late Rodway Swinhoe, expert in matters Burmese and " The Father of Mandalay Bar", I owe my first thanks, for it was he who told me the true story of the causes which led to the Annexation of Upper Burma - how it was “Fanny” and her love affair, and not the pretext (justified as that would have been) of the Bombay-Burma Corporation that drove the Indian Government into action at last. Roadway Swinhoe was one of the earliest dwellers in Mandalay after the Annexation, and knew most of the people in the drama. He had planned to write the story himself, but with great generosity he gave it up to me.

I might, dazzled* by the roundness and irony of the story - for, as it is no invention, I can say as much - have launched on the writing of it gaily enough, but I should soon have found it impossible to continue with any sense of confidence in my own statements had it not been for the expert help of others.

Sir George Scott K.C.I.E., a British authority on Burmese life and literature, and himself author of standard books that will always be vital to the serious student, was my court of appeal. He gave me vivid description of the men of that day who made this particular piece of history.

Sir Herbert Thirkell White, K.C.I.E., one-time Lieutenant Governor of Burma , with his memories and research also helped me much.

Everyone connected with this story is dead so I can mention the real names of the characters, which I could not do when I firs wrote the book. Fanny was not the daughter of an Italian father and a Burmese mother, and her name was Mattie.

Selah’s real name was Hosannah Manook, and without her help I could never have written the book. She was the daughter of an Armenian who was the Kalawun, or Minister for Foreigners. Kalá means foreigner (and I put an accent on the word here. so that the reader may know where the stress falls). It also means a barbarian and everyone was a Hosannah Manook ( who eventually married an Armenian cousin) became European Maid of Honour* at the Court of Ava*, and it is to her that I owe the intimate details of Palace life. Not even Burman could have known these things, because only a woman was allowed in the women’s part of the Palais.

it is to M. Duroiselle, Master of Ceremonies , that I owe my knowledge of their details. He was in charge of the lacquer* palanquins*, the court robes and the other paraphernalia* of the Palace.

Mattie Calogreedy herself was still alive when I first wrote the book in 1929, though she had lost all her charm.

The French weaver’s daughter, whom I have called Julie Delange , but whose name was Denigré, was alive though stone blind when I met her. She died, aged nearly one hundred, shortly before Burma fell in the last war. She, too, remembered very well the old Palace life and was most interesting,

Sandreino’s real name was Andreino. His chief source of income was as argent of the Bombay-Burma Teak Company, for his own country, Italy, was in no condition to jockey* for position against France and England. The new Consul-General for France whom I have called Maas was really Haas, and the villain* of the piece whom I call Bonvoisin had the suitable name of Bonvilain.

The only thing that remains to be said is that I have in every case simplified the spelling of native names as much as possible. I might, to give only one example, have spelt Supayalat ( which is a title meaning Middle Princess and not really a name at ail*) in many different ways: Su-payaw-lat; Su-paya-lat; Soopayahlat; I now realise that I ought to have had no hyphens and I might have spelt it Tsaubhuralat! I hope my readers will think I settled on the simplest version. Both hyphens and accents have been abandoned ages ago, for there is no standard system and therefore most Far Eastern authors avoid them. The only deliberate inaccuracy in this version of the book is that I have referred to the Alè Nammadow, or Center Queen, by her best known title of Sinbyew-machin. this, which means Lady of the White Cow Elephant, was a title only conferred* on her after death of the Chief Queen. But Sybyew-machin (here again I must ask the reader to bekieve that I have settled on the simplest spelling - how would he have liked to grapple* with Hsenghbyumasheng?) is bad enough; and to have called the lady one thing in the beginning of the book and by this staggering* name afterwards would have made a needless complication. I only mention this inaccuracy lest the pundits write and correct me. I have kept the accent on Alè Nammadaw for the greater ease of the reader, as I have kept one hyphen in Supaya-lat.

In the Second World War and the Americans, with the help of some of her people, freed Burma. It was a tremendous combined operation, one of the most important war, and too little is known about it and this is no place to write what one does know. But at least we can say that we have lost among our bravest and best in Burma. It is a mistake to talk about Myitkyna and Bharmo as though they were important towns, though Bharmo was centuries old, but the towns of Burma were little more than big villages but the houses were all of wood. Only Rangoon was built of stone and more or less modern city. Mandalay itself is hardly recognisable as it was burnt out in the course of the fighting, The rose brick walls remain but the great timber Palace with its magnificent wood carving went up in flames. So Mandalay has ceased to be, it exists no longer save in our memories, in old prints and photographs. And we English, too, have all departed. We no longer rule Burma. She is now a sovereign state styling herself the Union of Burma which denotes the union of her many peoples, Burmese, Karen,Shan, and Kachin, to mention only more important. When we left in January 1948, the future of Burma looked bright. If things have turned out , as alas they have, not to have that gleam* that once we believed in, it is because civil war between Burmese and Karens followed upon dissension* amongst Burmese themselves. We can but hope these troubles will soon cease and there will be a true union of her peoples, This will be necessary if - as is likely - she is overwhelmed by a greater power.
Mandalay: Palace

30

Vocabulary
portentous = here:momentous, important
Mandalay = earlier Mianmar=the second-largest city and the last royal capital of Burma.
[b]lacquer/b (U) =syn: hairspray
indebted= grateful
dazzled = dizzy-eyed
K.C.I.E.=Knight Commander, one of the ranks of the Order of the Indian Empire
roundness =(u)not angular like a ball
Court of Appeal = an appellate court= a court in which people can appeal against decisions made in other courts of law
Maid oh Honour =The principal bridesmaid, if one is so designated, may be called the chief bridesmaid or maid of honor if she is unmarried,
Inwa or Ava located in Mandalay Region, Burma (Myanmar), is an ancient imperial capital of successive Burmese kingdoms from the 14th to 19th centuries.
palanquin=(formerly in India and other Eastern countries) a passenger conveyance, usually for one person, consisting of a covered or boxlike litter carried by means of poles resting on the shoulders of several men.
paraphernalia = personal belongings.
jockey = a person who rides horses professionally in races.
to jockey( informal.) = to operate or guide the movement of;
villain = a cruelly malicious person who is involved in or devoted to wickedness or crime; scoundrel.
ail7to cause pain, uneasiness, or trouble to. verb (used without object). 2. to be unwell; feel pain; be ill: He’s been ailing for some time.
confer = to consult together; compare opinions; carry on a discussion or deliberation.
grapple = to try to overcome or deal (usually followed by with
pundit =Hindi paṇḍit < Sanskrit paṇḍita learned man, (adj.) learned
Myitkyna and Bharmo = get permission to visit areas of the country untraveled since World War II.

31

Hi Kati,

How are you my friend. I miss you very much. I enjoyed the picture of your village very much. It is a beatiful village. I also enjoyed the video of cats. I think that you are the most reactive (sociable) person in this forum. you are lovely and all your posts are excellent. I’m waiting for more. I also saw your progress report, you are excellent too.
The playground is your Excellent idea too. Believe me Kati you are a talented person. I wish you more progress.

Bye bye

32

Dear Mona,

Many thanks for your truthful lines. I believe you, and I am also straight with you. I never wanted to hurt anybody , yet I hurt. I can’t speak so well in English that I could express clearly myself - so misunderstanding happens. It is good that you didn’t misunderstand me if I expressed myself with not current English politeness. I forget use: please, sorry, etc. and my letters become insolent. I detest to be insolent only I translate my Hungarian thoughts into English without courtesy formulae. It is enough to hurt anybody whose mother tongue isn’t Hungarian. This happened to me last Sunday. I hurt anybody who I respect very much.

Bye, bye

33

My best friend Kati,

You never hurt me. You were very kind, and generous with me. You are a very respectful lady. I like you as you are. I like your frankness, straightforwardness, kindness, and your culture.

I felt very sadness when, I saw those words which you had written.

Please kati, do not say that again. Me and all your friends can not imagin this forum without you. I feel that you and the forum are members of my family. How can you abandon your family. I’m sure it will be impossible. When I saw your progress report, I wished you to be the top learner of this site soon. You really deserve this. Please, give me a promise Kati, that you will never abandon the forum, when you achieve your target.

I wish you that, you would be the top learner for ever, but please stay with us.

I visit other sites, but I always return here. because this site and www.Rocket.com (especially Spanish. I think that Mauricio Evlampieff is a very excellent Spanish teacher.) are the origin. They always encourage me to study which they offer.

Please, be in contact, and feel free to deal by any way in any language. Your deed and talk are always excellent, and nice. You are really [color=red]a mutual friend as Face book says.

Hugs

34

b]BOOK I
Chapter I
THE SHIP[/b]

Nothing, thought Fanny, on board the SS. Bengal, is like What you expect it to be. The weather had been rough till Sivily was passed, and Fanny had felt5 and looked like a sick monkey. Since then sahe had emerged in the sunshine, and was attractive young woman, but in spite of her draped* and fluted* skirts, her hair caught up, on the crown of her head save for the two sausage ringletstied by a bow at the nape of her neck and her grown-up airs*, people would i9nsist on treating her a schoolgirl. That was partly Aghata’s fault, of course. Aghata, who was so absurdly raw in spite of bei8ng in reality two years older. It had been a disappointment to hear that Agatha was to come too. She had been useful enough at school, but somehow the fact that she also was going to Mandalay to join her missionary father, who had been transferred there from Southern India, seemed to make the edge off Fanny’s uniqueness - though of course it was a very different thing going out to a mere mission school, from going out to join your father, when he was a great Court favourite and you yourself were bound to be summoned* to Court. Still, there it was undoubtedly the presence of Agatha, still full of interest in the dead-and-gone* school-life and friends left behind, did drag into exciting present much of the old Brighton atmosphere that had no longer any interest for Fanny. Oh the whole, how she’d hated it all…!

The female missionary - no officer’s wife, alas! - who was chaperoning* the two girls, was not liked even by the amiable Agatha, and was actively hated by Fanny. Mrs. Murgatroyd…a harsh name and an ugly woman with a long pale nose, the end of which twitched* all by itself, like the nose of a rabbit, when she was agitated. She said dreadful things, things that made you go hard and fierce and want to kill her. Don’t try and show off*, Fanny. You must remember that you’re only an ignorant little girl. Let me see, Fanny, didn’t I hear of a certain little girl who pretended that something she’d got at a Brighton shop, had come from the Queen of Ava… And that she didn’t even pay for it?.. I think that girl should watch herself very carefully and pry for grace to withstand* the terrible tendency of dishonesty she has inherited… If you were only blessed enough to be completely English how much less you would have of this and spirit of boasting! Of course it’s not your fault, Fanny, and Heaven forbid you should be blamed for what is not your fault, that you have this temptation to tamper with* the truth. Providence has seen fit to make you very largely a foreigner, and we all know what foreigners are, but it should make you very, very careful. …

The only consolation was that there were several gentlemen on board who took Fanny seriously as a young lady. There were the third officer and the stout Rangoon merchant at whom some of the other passengers sneered* for being “eight annas* in the rupee” but who knew how to amuse Fanny, and there were a couple of young men, gong to Ceylon as tea-partners. They had all vied * with each other in explaining to her all about the new Suez Canal as the Bengal passed through it. :Mrs. Murgatroyd could say what she liked, but these people did not think of Fanny as a little schoolgirl.They thought her very beautiful and clever, and Fanny’s heart swelled happily. Agatha disapproved, but, then, poor Agatha, through she was quite pretty when he nose didn’t get pink, wasn’t that sort of girl.

Fanny comming into the cabin she shared with Agatha late at night, her ivory cheeks flushed, her eyes glowing, Fanny tinglingwith life, with the lovely sense of power of power and skill that meant life… made Agatha feel envious, yet censorious She looks quite pretty, although her nose is so flat, admitted Agatha; But she’s not good
, not really, I am sure. Looks don’t matter, it’s the heart that matters; but it doesn’t seem right she should look so lovely…she isn’t really, not if you pull her to pieces; her face is too round and flat as well as her nose, and of course she does look-foreign… And the waves of femininity that came out of Fanny seemed to pass over Agatha’s shrinking* flesh and she felt her mouth going tight and hard. It was disgusting to be as Fanny was, so that she made you think, do what you would, of all the things that weren’t nice. Agatha shook with anger at the sense of sex that filled the little cabin on Fanny’s entry.

“You’ve no business to be so late” said sharply; “you know Mrs. Murgatyord doesn’t like it.”

Funny hummed a little tune and broke off to say she didn’t care what Mrs. Murgatyord liked. Old cat! Fanny couldn’t think how anyone had ever married her.

“It isn’t right, Fanny; it isn’t really. Fanny, what to do you do all this time on deck?
“Oh, I talk; and they talk. To-night Mr.Jacobs showed me the Southern Cross.”
" Well, he ought to show it you by daylight”
Fanny’s laugh rang out.*
“Silly Agatha! It’s stars You couldn’t see it by day.”
"Well, you know what I mean. And Mr. Jacobs too… he’s so fat
Fanny widened innocent eyes at her.
“What has that got to do with me?”
“What you don’t…he doesn’t…” Agatha stammered.*
“Oh, Agatha, what a goose you are! I suppose you mean do I let him to kiss me?”
Agatha blushed a slow painful blush that burned over her fair skin. It sounded awful said right out like that. Fanny thought for second. Agatha would despise* her if she knew that Mr. Jacobs had kissed her, and she didn’t like Agatha to despise her to envy her. Impossible to explain to Agatha that there was something about the expert kisses of fat Jacobs that was more pleasing than the kisses of the young and handsome third officer… Stout and middle-aged as Mr. Jacobs was, he had a message for Fanny’s flesh that the younger man had not. Fanny, at the very threshold* of experimenting, found everything of interest, but it was no good trying to explain things to herself, let alone Agatha.
So - " Of course not, Agatha, " she said indignantly.
Agatha stared at her, feeling a curious excitement.
Yes,yes, thought Fanny, I am going to have lots and lots of men in love with me. I’m always going to get everything I want. And she felt a lovely warmth that was tingling throughout her frame, she was aware of her flushed cheeks and her shining eyes, she was the most living thing in the whole world , she was Fanny …And Agatha, the first shock of Fanny’s avowal* over, also felt a stirring of new interest, as though she were recognising something different about life for the first time. Was it possible that flirting - even that “it” itself provided, of course, you were married, mightn’t be so very wicked and disgusting after all…? Of course we all had to come into the world somehow, or there wouldn’t be any souls to save. It was all very confusing. Agatha was only vaguely aware of “something” the big, looming “something” that was never acknowledged by nice girls, but that was there all the time, in the background, waiting…Of course if he were a good man that might make it all right; you had children and brought them up to be good Anglo-Catholic…

Fanny broke the spell by beginning to let down the masses of her shining black hair. Agatha saw its silken folds slip like water over Fanny’s slight shoulders and pour down below her waist, with a contraction of the heart.But -

“Oh Fanny, your hair!” she ejaculated generously.

She never could help it. Fanny’s hair was magical. Fanny did not tell her that all over Burma peasant women might be seen by any wayside* well with tresses as amazing. Perhaps Fanny had forgotten it in the wonder that her hair was to Brighton.

But the next night, when Fanny slipped into the cabin with her hair already about her shoulders, the old anger welled up* in Agatha. Fanny was disgusting, horrible. No, nice girl would have…Agatha knew quite surely that a man’s fingers had been playing with those soft silken strands, that must be so deep, so different from her own thin locks, to plunge into… She found herself trembling, speaking icily, contemptuously. Fanny, ever wishful to avoid blame, tried to justify herself. The pins had slipped out, her hair was so heavy, it hadn’t happened on purpose, and then it wasn’t worth while putting it up again.
“You’re lying.”, said Agatha furiously.
“Oh. well then,” said Fanny, “what does it the matter?”
You make such a silly fuss, Agatha. And anyway, you needn’t pretend you are always so pi* What about the drawing you have in your Prayer Book?"

Fanny! What do you mean? Why…? Agatha began to stammer in her indignation as she remembered that her Prayer Book was always kept locked away in her glove-box with the Crytal Palace on he lid. Fanny must have deliberately stolen the key from her handkerchief sachet where it was kept and made an examination.

“It’s easy to see you’re not English!” cried Agatha. " You’ve been prying* in my things. What a dishonourable things to do !"

Funny shrugged her shoulders.
“You shouldn’t always pretend to be so good.” was all she remarked.
Agatha rummaged* in her handkerchief sachet with trembling fingers, found the key and unlocked the glove-box. There, under the gloves, lay the Prayer Book with brass clasps; she seized it and opened it. The precious drawing was still there. It was a pencil drawing made by Agatha’s own not too skilful fingers, and represented a young man in a clerical collar, over which dropped a long fair moustache. Beneath was written -" My Confessor."*

Fanny, proceeding with her undressing, laughed a little maliciously.

“Did you think I had taken it? I don’t want your Young man, Agatha! I can’t bear clergymen.”

“it’s nit anyone” said Agatha indignantly. " It’s not my young man. How can you be so vulgar? It’s just drawing I made of someone I imagined."

Fanny , who knew that Agatha always spoke the truth, thought this is sillier. Not even a real clergyman!

“Don’t you see” went on Agatha, " if it were real he wouldn’t have a moustaches. I only drew him with one because I’ve always thought of Sir Galahad with one".

“Wh’1s Sir Galahad? I didn’t know you knew any titled people, Agatha?”
“Oh, you don’t know anything!” said Agatha impatiently; “it’s no good being cross with you.”

She tore the pencil drawing across and across and, going to the port-hole*, dropped the fragments out into the darkness. Fanny, who disliked unpleasentless, cuddled up* to her.

“I’m sorry I looked in your Prayer Book if you didn’t want me to,” she said, skilfully gliding over such matters as abstracting the key from the sachet and unlocking the glove-box. “I was hurt at your keeping in a secret from me. I thought it was real young man, you see. And I have no secrets from you Agatha…”

Agatha, wishing to believe this, felt her face first melt and then re-set into its mentor look.

“You’re such a child, Fanny,” she murmured, feeling that to treat Fanny’s triumphs as the harmless escapades of a child was the best way to get out of having to envy her as a woman. “You’re so dreadfully thoughtless and unwise.”

Oh, am I? Everyone doesn’t think so, I assure you. Gentlemen don’t think so."

“Don’t be so silly and conceited. None of the gentlmen worth anything talk to you, only a vulgar merchant like Mr. Jacobs and those silly boys. You couldn’t get anyone like Mr. Danvers to talk to you if you tried.”

A dreadful pang* shot through Fanny as the thought of the grave, clever, important Mr. Danvers and realised the truth of what Agatha said. From sense of power she fell swiftly* upun a knowledge of utter futility*, of an inescapable* cheapness. Her lips quivered* Her eyes brimmed* with tears. Aloud she said:
“Oh, he’s dreadfully dull, Mr. Danvers. I should not bother to talk with him!”

And to herself she vowed that Mr. Danvers should be seen talking to her as soonas, she could manage it. Mr. Jacobs, whose thick hands had trembled so in her loosened hair, the young planters*, the handsome third officer with his uniform, ceased to interest her, they were nothing, she felt. Mr. Danvers was in the Indian Civil Service and an important man. Agatha should see… but in her heart she felt that Mr. Danvers would not care twopence about her, and she hated Agatha for having made her face such a disagreeable truth.

35

Vocabulary
draped and fluted skirt = goffered and ruffled skirt
ringlet = a long curl hair hanging down sb’s head
nape = to back of the neck
grown-up airs = adult countenance
be dead-and-gone = to be dead
summon sb = to order sb to appear in court
to chaperon sb = to take care of children
to twitch = if a part of your body makes a sudden quick movement
(Her lips twitched with amusement.)
show off = to try to impress others by talking your abilities
to withstand = to be strong enough not to be hurt or damaged by extreme conditions
to sneer = to show you have no respect for sb by the expression on your face(syn: mock)
vie = to compete strongly with sb in order to obtain sth
They had all vied with each other.
anna = Indian money
censorious = tending to criticise persons or things a lot.
ring out = to be heard loudly and clearly
to loom (IV) = to appear important and threatening and likely to happen soon
avowal = acknowledgement
wayside (n) (sing) = the area of at the side of the road, path
well up (of an emotion) = to become stronger
Confessor = a Roman Catholic priest who listen sb’s confession
cuddle up = to hold sb/sth close in your arms to show love , affection syn:hug
porthole = a round window in the side of a ship or an aircraft
pang (n)= a sudden strong feeling of physical or emotional pain.
swiftly = quickly/immediately
futility (U) = having no purpose because there is no chance of success/irrationality/ meaninglessness/pointlessness/senselessness/unimtelligibelity
[inescapable [/u]= a situation what you can’t avoid or ignore syn: avoidless
quiver = to shake slightly; to make a slight movement
brim = to be full of sth; to fill it
planter = a person who manage the plantation in a tropical country

36

Chapter II
The Dhow*

The scorching rocks of Aden lay twenty-four hours astern*, and the S.S. Bengal was well into the Indian Ocean, the bleak*,dry mountains of Arabia making a faint* purplish pattern away* to port. A storm had only been missed by a couple of days, and the sea still ran with a long swell*;it was the hour before sunset, and the shadows by long and dark upon the decks, whose whiteness was tinged*with gold by the evening light.

Suddenly, in the telepathic manner in which things become known on board ship, word flashed round amongst the passengers that the course had been altered, thaat " something" had been seen…the Bengal was making for it, whatever “it” was. Field-glasses* were fetched, ladies asked a dozen questions of any man within sight, touchingly confident that gentlemen know everything at sea. Fanny, running to the rail, started with a rest.

A dark dot marked the sunlight waters far ahead*,and people stared alternately at it and navigating bridge*, where the Captain directed the matters. What is it? Can you see it yet? Is it ban open boat:? Oh, I wonder if there are people dying in it… Presently, the Bengal slowed down, and it became apparent that the object was not a romantic thing, a ship’s boat laden* with castaways*, but a native dhow, her sail down, rolling on the swell. It was, however, still permissible to hope that all on board her might be dying, and as the Bengal’s engines stopped everyone redoubled the effort to see all that was to be seen. Fanny, small and fragile, was being elbowed out of her place at the rail, when a genial*voice said:

" Too bad, little girl. Let me give you a helping hand."

And Mr. Jacobs breathing down the back of her neck, placed this two hands about her waist and lifted her up so that her feet rested on the second rail.

“Lean over. i WONT LET YOU FALL.” he advised.

Fanny, giggling, let herself in his grasp and leaned well forward. The dhow was now rolling on the paleburnished green of the swell about a hundred yards away. Although an open vessel of not more than fifteen tons, she was crowded with people. As the Bengal hailed her, two negroes, naked save for their loin-cloths, dropped her gunwale into a tiny dug-out, and started to make for the steamer. The negroes paddling with long, strong strokes, called in English:
"Water! Water! We wanting water.
Water…Water! The classic ever-dramatic cry rang thrillingly through the evening air.

“Water! Poor things! they want water…” said everyone much gratified.

( to be continued )

vocabulary:
dhow:an Arab ship with one large sail in the shape of a triangle
astern:if a ship or boat is moving astern, it is moving backwards
far ahead = far in front
bleak = exposed, empty, or with no pleasant features
,navigating bridge = where the Captain navigates
field-glasses = binoculars
faint = that cannot be clearly seen, heard or smelt
pattern away = sail away
permissible = admissible
slow = to go or to make something/somebody go at a slower speed or be less active
slowdown = a reduction in speed or activity
tinge =to add a small amount of colour to something (árnyal)
far afead = far in front
swell = to increase or make something increase in number or size
laden with = heavily loaded with something
Castaway a person whose ship has sunk (= who has been shipwrecked ) and who has had to swim to a lonely place, usually an island
permissible = admissible
genial = cosy, friendly
on the pale = on the aeria
hail = call out to sb
gunwale = the upper edge of the side of a boat or small ship
dug-out = a place where gold is dug out of the ground
thrillingly = excitingly
gratify = grant

37

The inevitable passenger who knows everything declared that the crimson flag fluttering* from the dhow was the flag of Zanzibar, the passenger who always contradicts maintained it was merely a signal of destress. In the bows of the dhow a tiny boy at huddled up, twelve other people , one a woman, crowded the thwarts, a tall, bearded man clad in flowing white robes gave the impression of being in authority.
An accommodation ladder had been swung overboard from the Bengal, the first officer, down in the waist, leaned over the bulwark, a crowd of deckhands and coloured third-class passengers around him. The tiny dug-out reached the ladder, but there is rocked so upon the swell that it perpetually filled with water, and there was no possibility that it could bear back a cask safety. The end of a hawser was dropped overboard and the two negroes started to paddle back, towing it to the dhow.

to be continued

vocabulary
flutter =to move lightly and quickly; to make something move in this way
Flags fluttered in the breeze.
de-stress = to relax after working hard or experiencing stress; to reduce the amount of stress that you experience
bow(n) the front part of a boat or ship
bulwark = the part of a ship’s side that is above the level of the deck
De-stress yourself with a relaxing bath.
huddle (up/together) (+ adverb/preposition) (of people or animals) to gather closely together, usually because of cold or fear
People huddled up close to each other
clad = dressed
flowing = fly-away (adj)
accommodation ladder = well-set rope ladder
overboard = over the side of a boat or a ship into the water
deckhand = a worker on a ship who does work that is not skilled
hawser = rope on the ship
cask = barrel
paddle back = row back
taw = drag/pull/

38

PICS:
lacquer box

Lacquer Lady: An account of a young girl who leaves Brighton for the Kingdom of Mandalay and Burma where she becomes the favourite of the Burmese Queen. In this novel, she tells the story of the downfall of the Burmese kingdom .

KCIE:In the centre was an image of Victoria surrounded by a dark blue ring

British governor Hubert Elvin Rance and Sao Shwe Thaik at the flag raising ceremony on 4 January 1948 (Independence Day of Burma).

bride and maids of honour

armorial ensign of Court of Appeals on Phillipines


Burmese–Siamese War (1765–67)
The siege of Ayutthaya began during the first Chinese invasion of Burma. This war was the continuation of the war of 1759–1760, the casus belli of which were over the control of the Tenasserim coast and its trade,[10] and the Siamese support for ethnic Mon rebels of the fallen Restored Hanthawaddy Kingdom of Lower Burma.he Burmese would launch their next invasion in 1765, and topple the four-century-old … In 1745, they sent a diplomatic mission to Ava (Inwa) to evaluate the political … Burma now had a firmer, though still by no means complete, hold on the …
palanquin:

paraphernalia:drugpipesbongs


a pundit who meets a …

draped skirt:

fluted skirt:

hair in ringlets:

nape of woman’s neck

grown-up air:

Chaperon:

pictures twitching:

1.

2.

3.

sneered face:

Indian anna-money

loom

wayside

Confessor: Attributed arms of King Edward the Confessor (who lived before standardized coats of arms came into use), by Matthew Paris.

porthole

planter

39

Hello Mona,

Last time when I looked for this thread I was surprised that I saw your letter. You are really a very good friend or best friend, but you believe it, or not I didn’t receive any notification about your letter. It was a chance that I noticed it because I wanted to continue on The Lacquer Lady. I continued on because I wanted to wrote down the whole book.

What I felt earlier that I have to leave this course I was right. Unfortunately I didn’t leave I waited till the last moment, till I became a “persona non grata”, an unwelcome person who doesn’t receive any notification, who can’t send a post because I meet with one hundred of obstacles.

I wrote my problem to Torsten, I can say I humiliated myself, because I knew that I wouldn’t receive any answer.

This last period was a nerve-trying and time-consuming. (that I have to wait for a long-time for that I receive a possibility to write a post, to wait minimum for half an hour that I could send.

Maybe I am elderly but not idiot, and I know if this Forum worked in this way it could close its gates.

So dear Mona, I disappear for a time, or forever. I am very sorry because from lot of possibilities on the Net I chose the worst for me.

REDARDS:
Kati

40

My best friend Kati,

Please do not go away. Do not do that please. I do not want to loss you. I liked all your posts. Me and all the friends in this forum will miss you. I will miss the most kind friend I had found. Please, give yourself a chance to think about that, how this forum will appear without you. Again,could you please relax and take it easy. I like all what you write. Oh my god, I decided to return to your story after some time, because I was very busy and very tired. The pictures gave me an idea about the subject of the story. give me a chance to Convince (persuade) you. Kati, I’m sorry I’m very tired now. I have some thing which, I must complete. Could you please keep your eyes on this thread? I will return soon.

Hugs