Bac blanc

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  • Publié le : 28 mars 2011
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Barème Compréhension -Expression Traduction 14 6


Thursday 29th November. 9 p. m. Bedsit. At last I have good news. Today I met a pretty English girl. Lizzie (small for Elizabeth). She said she had seen me in the college bar. I did not want to tell she is mistaken. I do notgo to the bar. It is not like home. People do not say hello and offer drinks. They look at me and talk in each others ears. But all that is finished. I will tell from the beginning. I was in the café drinking hot chocolate. A treat (new word) for getting an A in my essay on farming. Mad cow is not funny. The teacher liked that, she said I had a good 'grasp' on English humour. Lizzie was having acup of tea with milk and much sugar. She wore yellow glasses and a woolly hat and a scarf. Like me, she doesn't like the cold I think. I walked her to a tube station of Marble Arch and then she asked me to a party. I need to be cool but I was too happy. She is beautiful, even behind the big yellow glasses. I have taken out my money and I have went shopping. This is my big night out in the town. I donot feel sick for Dubrovnik so much but I still miss the fish and ice cream. Daniel placed the biro back in the ring binder and closed the notebook. The diary was part of a year-long assignment, his first entries had been abysmal. Miserable, homesick and unable to express himself. After three months life had barely changed much for Daniel. Although his English was much improved, Daniel stillchose not to fully express himself in his diary; he didn't want anyone reading about his loneliness or his fear of this giant, grotesque city. He looked at his newest possessions lying on the metal-framed bed. Things were going to be much better now he'd made a friend. Daniel had re-budgeted his month's allowance. By reducing his food to eggs and bread and walking to and from the bedsit in Bayswaterto the language college, he had found an extra £72 to spend on his first party in London. So far he had spent £3.40 on new hair gel, 75p on a new comb and £12.99 on a new shirt. It was denim. It went well with the jeans his father had brought for him when he left Croatia. He had carefully and painstakingly washed the jeans in the sink, wrung them out and hung them from the plastic curtain rail todry. This new life was a shock to Daniel. In Dubrovnik he was someone. He and his father ran a boating business, which had greatly benefited from peace and the increasing influx of tourists from England, Italy and Germany.


The sharp, clear coastal water of Dubrovnik enticed even the sea-fearing tourists, everyone wanted to hire boats, sip cold beer and watch shards of light dance on thesea floor. Daniel's father was too old to learn a new skill, so Daniel was the one sent to England to improve his English, Italian and German. Daniel could still taste the envy among his friends; he was going to London. London! But the city had not welcomed him into its arms, it was a secret society and Daniel didn't know the password. London didn't depend on him, it had no reason to throw open itsdoors and beckon him inside. Every day made him feel less and less significant. He wasn't weak by nature but London had the tools to mine your confidence, self-belief, your will to live. Daniel hung up his shirt and placed his gel and comb on the edge of the brown-stained sink. He regretted the money he had wasted trying to clean the sink. None of the expensive products would shift the mark left...
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