Last week I went to the theatre. I had a very good seat.
The play was very interesting. I did not enjoy it.
A young man and a young woman were sitting behind me.
They were talking loudly. I got very angry.
I could not hear the actors. I turned round.
I looked at the man and the woman angrily.
They did not pay any attention. In the end,
I could not bear it. I turned round again.
‘I can't hear a word!’ I said angrily.
‘It's none of your business, ’ the young man said rudely.
‘This is a private conversation!’
It was Sunday. I never get up early on Sundays.
I sometimes stay in bed until lunchtime.
Last Sunday I got up very late. I looked out of the window.
It was dark outside. ‘What a day!’ I thought.
‘It's raining again. ’ Just then, the telephone rang.
It was my aunt Lucy. ‘I've just arrived by train, ’ she said. ‘I'm coming to see you. ’
‘But I'm still having breakfast, ’ I said.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
Postcards always spoil1 my holidays.
Last summer, I went to Italy. I visited museums and sat in public gardens.
A friendly waiter taught me a few words of Italian. Then he lent me a book.
I read a few lines, but I did not understand a word.
Every day I thought about postcards.
My holidays passed quickly, but I did not send cards to my friends.
On the last day I made a big decision. I got up early and bought thirty-seven cards.
I spent the whole day in my room, but I did not write a single card!