浙江省嘉兴市2015年优质课评比学习资料《The Christmas Visit》ppt（11份打包）
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浙江省嘉兴市2015年优质课评比学习资料 高二组 The Christmas Visit （11份打包）
│高二原始材料 (印刷版).doc
├─高二1
│Christmas visit.ppt
│改编后的材料.doc
│简要说明.doc
├─高二2
│The Christmas Visit.doc
│The Christmas Visit.ppt
│Thumbs.db
└─高二3
the christmas visit最终版.ppt
Thumbs.db
高二原始材料（评委版终极稿）.doc
高二原始材料（学生版终极稿）.doc
A Christmas visit
I live in a house in Scotland, UK, with the front entrance and windows directly onto the road facing the Haven Restaurant. P1
Standing at the kitchen window loot, I could see brightly lit houses and families together. It was in the days between Christmas — a time of goodwill to all men and the New Year — a time when we usually pledge our kindness of change. The streets were empty, not a soul to be seen. P2
Then, at the corner of the Haven Restaurant, a man moved, slowly, and with care, as though to show he was not there, standing cold and hungry. It was an old tramp with no home. There he stood! Long messy grey hair and beard, worn-out trousers. I knocked on my kitchen window. He noticed and stared, as though scared, ready to run away. P3
“ Will you have a cup of tea? ” I put a cup to my lips to show my invitation. He nodded unsurely and smiled, sliding into the building as the door opened. He stopped at the door as if he was uncertain how far my welcome will extend — I gestured with my arm in the direction of the kitchen, standing back when he passed to avoid the smelly body. P4
In the kitchen, he reached his hand out from his ragged coat sleeve quickly with a dirty finger pointing to the coffee. And then, cup after cup, strong and black. P5
Potatoes, sandwiches of lamb, sardines from the can were all in his jackets. Cans disappeared into his long pockets together with a small tin opener — he had smiled when that was offered. P6
What a hunger he had! He even took away the crumbs which he gladly sought. He smiled again saying words I hardly understood, then he left. Moved on. Gone! P7
The streets were empty and bare! Not a soul to be seen. In the kitchen only the terrible smell, together with the cups and plates showed that the Christmas visitor had been, and gone. I stood at the kitchen window, loot at the bright lights. The streets were empty, desolate and bare! When you live alone this time of the year you can feel very empty with people taking a rest during Christmas. It is a time when most people are relaxing at home with gifts and delicious food all around the room. Not a time for leaving the warmth of the house to go visiting. P8
The visit of the old tramp brought a sense of unreality. During these years, even familiar friends to me had never asked me for their needs. Now I toore dipping deep into my pockets, which usually closed fast. P9
I’m searching for words when I thinld write something to convey the feelings of special significance in this Christmas visit. P10
New words
goodwill n.善意 pledge vt.保证；发誓 tramp n.流浪汉
extend vt. vi.延伸、扩大 sleeve n. 袖子 tin opener 开瓶器
crumb n.面包屑 desolate adj.荒凉的；无人烟的 dip vt.vi.伸入
convey vt.传达；运输 significance n.意义
After experiencing this special significant Christmas visit, I wThe Christmas Visit
By Howard Murphy
I live in a house in Scotland, UK. The bedrooms at the side of the house loot over the Cellardyke harbour with the front entrance and windows directly onto the road facing the Haven Restaurant.
I stood at the kitchen window loot; what houses I could see were brightly lit, families together — husbands, sons, home from the sea. It was in the days between Christmas, that time of goodwill to all men and the New Year, a time when we usually pledge our good intentions of change. The streets were bare, not a soul to be seen. Then, in the lee of the wall by the Haven Restaurant, a figure moved, slowly, and with care, as though to deny he was there, standing cold and hungry at this time of festivity and cheer. It was the wanderer, an old tramp, The Man o’ The Road, with no abode. No home.
There he stood! Long straggling hair, and beard so grey. Trousers ripped, patched any old way. I knocked on my kitchen window, startled; he stared, as though scared, ready to take flight. He was caught in the warm glow cast by the fluorescent light as it cut through the darkness of the night. “Will you have a cup of tea?” My hand making the universal action of putting a cup to my lips.
He nodded and tentatively smiled, blinking like a startled owl as the door opened, then he shuffled up the flight of stairs. He halted at the door of the flat as if uncertain how far the welcome extended — I gestured with my arm in the direction of the kitchen, standing back as he passed, and, as the acrid-sour smell of the man struck my nostrils.
In the kitchen his keen glance had taken in that there was a coffee percolator on the worktop. A hand quickly shot out of the ragged coat sleeve, a grimy finger pointing to indicate — not tea — but coffee was his brew, cup after cup, strong and black.
Potatoes in their jacickly cooked in the microwave oven), one, two, three and four. Sandwiches of lamb, sardines from the can. And cans that disappeared into his long pockets together with a small tin opener — he had smiled when that was offered.
What a hunger he had! Not just for food of the edible t crumbs of communication he gladly sought, taking his fill. He smiled again muttering words hardly understood, then he left. Moved on. Gone!
The streets were empty and bare! Not a soul to be seen. In the kitchen only the lingering acrid smell, together with the cups and plates, showed that the Christmas visitor had been, and gone.
I stood at the kitchen window, loot, at the bright lights. The streets were empty, desolate and bare! When you live alone this time of year can feel very empty with people taking a rest after the festivities of Christmas. It is a time when most folk are relaxing at home with gifts scattered around the room, mince pies and the turkey remains placed before comatose revelers. Not a time for making an effort to get out of the chair and going through the routine of dressing. Not a time for leaving the warmth of the house to go visiting.
The visit of the old tramp brought a sense of unreality. Although a familiar figure to me over the years as a man who had never asked in any way for the often expected, indeed demanded, pecuniary gifts, I toore dipping deep into pocsually fast closed.
I’m struggling for words when perhaps I should leave those written to convey the feelings of special significance in the Christmas visit.
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