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Олимпиада по английскому языку 7 класс с ответами фгос
КОНКУРС ПОНИМАНИЯ УСТНОЙ РЕЧИ (PAPER 1. LISTENING)

Часть 1 (Part 1)

The place was a small town in Massachusetts, North America. It was a cold evening in December 1862. Snow was falling softly.

In the living room of a small house, four sisters were sitting by the fire. Their names were Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March. Meg was sixteen years old. Joe was fifteen. Beth was thirteen years old and Amy was twelve.

Their mother, Mrs March, was not in the house. She was visiting a poor, sick family. Their father, Mr March was far away from home. It was wartime. Mr March was working in a hospital for soldiers.

The four sisters were knitting with wool. They were knitting socks for the soldiers. They worked and they talked.

‘We are poor,’ said Meg, the eldest girl. ‘It is terrible.’ Meg was very pretty. She had large eyes and soft brown hair.

‘Other girls have lots of pretty things,’ said Amy, the youngest girl. Amy had golden hair and blue eyes.

‘I hate girls’ work and girls’ things,’ said Jo. She was tall and thin. She had beautiful, long, red hair. ‘I don’t want to stay at home,’ she said. ‘I want to fight in the war.’

Then Beth spoke. ‘Yes, we are poor,’ she said. ‘But we are lucky too. We have Father and Mother and we have each other.’

Beth was very shy. She was afraid of strangers but she loved her family very much.

‘Yes, we have each other,’ said Jo. And the girls were happy again.

‘It’s six o’clock!’ said Meg. ‘Be quick, everybody! Mother is coming! We must get supper ready.’

Jo brought more wood for the fire. Meg lit the lamps. Beth and Amy put the food on the table.

The door opened and Mrs March came into the room. Mrs March was not beautiful but she was very kind and good. Her daughters had a special name for her. They called her ‘Marmee’.

‘How are you, my dears?’ said Mrs March. ‘Did you have a good day?’

‘Yes, thank you, Marmee,’ replied the four sisters.

‘Come. Sit down by the fire, Marmee,’ said Meg. ‘Supper is ready.’

After supper, Mrs March said, ‘Girls, I have a wonderful surprise.’

Everybody was excited.

‘Is it a letter from Father?’ asked Jo.

‘Yes,’ replied Mrs March. ‘Father has a Christmas message for all of you.’

The girls read their father’s letter.

To my four little women.

My dears,

I will not see you again for a long time. I think of you all every day. Take care of your mother. Be good and work hard.

Happy Christmas from your loving father.

текст для членов жюри (7-8 классы)

КОНКУРС ПОНИМАНИЯ УСТНОЙ РЕЧИ (PAPER 1. LISTENING)

Часть 2 (Part 2)

SIR ANTHONY EVANS PLAYS LISZT. The words above the door of the theatre were a metre high. On the wall there was a big picture of Sir Anthony at the piano. Hundreds of people were waiting outside the ticket office. It was Sir Anthony's eightieth birthday concert and everybody wanted a ticket. I had a special ticket, because I was a newspaper reporter. I wanted to talk to the famous pianist before his concert. I showed my ticket to the doorman and went into the theatre.

Then I walked upstairs to the dressing-rooms. On my way upstairs I thought about the famous pianist. I was a little afraid. My mouth was dry and my hands were shaking.

I arrived outside the dressing-room. There was a big gold star on the door. I knocked, and a tall man opened it. He was very old, but his eyes were blue and bright. He was wearing black trousers and a beautiful white shirt. He had a lot of straight, silvery hair. He looked just like his picture on the wall of the theatre.

'My name's Sally Hill,' I began. ' I . . .' The old man saw my notebook and smiled at me. 'Don't tell me. You're a reporter. Which newspaper do you work for?'

'The Sunday Times, sir.'

'A very good newspaper. Come in and sit down. Ask your questions. We were young once, weren't we, Linda? But of course that was a long time ago.'

He turned to a tall woman, who was standing in the corner. She smiled at me with friendly brown eyes. 'So this is Lady Evans,' I thought. 'What a nice face she has! She looks like a farmer's wife.'

I was not afraid any more. I sat down and opened my notebook.

Tell me about yourself, please, Sir Anthony. Did you come from a musical family? Did you start to learn the piano when you were three, like Mozart?'

The famous pianist smiled. 'No, no, my dear. I am the first musician in my family. And I was fourteen years old before I touched a piano for the first time.'

He saw the surprise on my face. 'We have a little time before my concert. I'll tell you my story. It's a strange story, but every word of it is true. You see, I left school when I was thirteen. Everybody called me Tony in those days. I worked on a farm . . .'

It was an exciting story and he told it well. At first I tried to write everything down in my notebook. Then the pen fell from my hand and I just listened. I was lost in Sir Anthony's wonderful story. He told me about an old school behind a high wall in a dirty street. There was broken glass on top of the wall. The school yard was very small. As he spoke, pictures came into my mind. I saw a little boy called Tony Evans, playing football with an old tin . .
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