Let the students translate the following article into Chinese in 60 minutes. (The article is from UN’s examination for recruiting translators)
Pulling a sickie is not something I'm prone to do. And, while I'd like to say I feel sick, I don't. Not unless prewedding nerves, last-minute jitters, and horrific amounts of stress count.
But nevertheless this morning, I decided I deserved a day off -- hell, possibly even two -- so I phoned in first thing, knowing that as bad a liar as I am, it would be far easier to lie to Penny, the receptionist, than to my boss.
I did think vaguely about doing something delicious for myself today, something I'd never normally do. Manicures, pedicures, facials, things like that. But of course guilt has managed to prevail, and even though I live nowhere near my office in trendy Soho, I still know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that should I venture outside on the one day I'm pretending to be sick, someone from work will just happen to be at the end of my street.
So here I am. Watching dreadful daytime television on a cold January morning (although I did just manage to catch an item on "updos for weddings", which may turn out to be incredibly useful), eating my way through a packet of custard creams (my last chance before the wedding diet goes into full acceleration), and wondering whether there would be any chance of finding a masseuse -- a proper one -- to come to the house at the last minute to soothe the knots of tension away.
The problem with feeling guilty about pulling sickies, as I now discover, is that you end up too terrified to leave the house, and therefore waste the entire day. And of course the less you do, the less you want to do, so by two o'clock I'm bored, listless, and sleepy. Rather than taking the easy option and going back to bed, I decide to wake myself up with strong coffee, have a shower, and finally get dressed. (word count 324 words)
Let the students translate the following article into Chinese in 60 minutes. (The article is from UN’s examination for recruiting translators)
Pulling a sickie is not something I'm prone to do. And, while I'd like to say I feel sick, I don't. Not unless prewedding nerves, last-minute jitters, and horrific amounts of stress count.
But nevertheless this morning, I decided I deserved a day off -- hell, possibly even two -- so I phoned in first thing, knowing that as bad a liar as I am, it would be far easier to lie to Penny, the receptionist, than to my boss.
I did think vaguely about doing something delicious for myself today, something I'd never normally do. Manicures, pedicures, facials, things like that. But of course guilt has managed to prevail, and even though I live nowhere near my office in trendy Soho, I still know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that should I venture outside on the one day I'm pretending to be sick, someone from work will just happen to be at the end of my street.
So here I am. Watching dreadful daytime television on a cold January morning (although I did just manage to catch an item on "updos for weddings", which may turn out to be incredibly useful), eating my way through a packet of custard creams (my last chance before the wedding diet goes into full acceleration), and wondering whether there would be any chance of finding a masseuse -- a proper one -- to come to the house at the last minute to soothe the knots of tension away.
The problem with feeling guilty about pulling sickies, as I now discover, is that you end up too terrified to leave the house, and therefore waste the entire day. And of course the less you do, the less you want to do, so by two o'clock I'm bored, listless, and sleepy. Rather than taking the easy option and going back to bed, I decide to wake myself up with strong coffee, have a shower, and finally get dressed. (word count 324 words)