Rosi McNab's Blog

Jed's story

noreply@blogger.com (Rosi) — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 11:20:00 +0000

Jeudi 14 janvier                         Cromignon
                                       L’anniverssre de Uge

Il y a 2 million d’années, loin dans les grandes montagnes Uge avait invitée toute sa famille pour fêeter son anniversaire. Il les attendait. Enfin Uge voyait des tout petit points noirs.

-Maman, papa, je les vois, ils arrivent.
-“Où?”
-“La bas,” dit Uge, j. “Je vais aller les chercher.”
-“Non,” dit son pèere et l’attrapa par l’’oreilles.
“-Vas plutâot chercher de la viandes pour la soupe,” lui dit sa maman.
-“D’accord,” dit Uge dans une voix déeçcue.
-“Attend une seconde,” dit son pèere.
-“Quoi?” dit Uge.
-“Je te donne des armes,;’ dit son peère.
-“Je peux avoir le plus pointu?” dit Uge.
-“Je te donne celui- la.”
-“D’accord,” dit Uge, et il parta.

Une demi heure plus tard il trouva une grande pierre. Il monta dessus.
-“Je vois un mammouth,” se dit-il. “Il arrive de plus pres en plus prèes. Il va m’attaquer. Je descesndsit du rocher. Je me cachea sous le rocher. Je le regardea.”
Le mammouth Il éetait en trainet de manger un arbre de dieu.
Quand le mammouth éetait parti Uge rentra chez lui. Il y avait sa famille qui’il l’attendait.

-“Joyeux anniversaire.” dit sa famille. “T’éetais ou?”
Uge en tremblant dit: “Il y a avait un un ma...mammouth àa grande corne.
“-Il éetait comment?” demmandaits son pèere.
“-Je vais le dessiner sur le mur,” dit Uge.
Dix minutes plus tard.
-“On ira le tuer demain pour ton gâateau d’anniversaire. “

Le lendemain, il y alla toôt. Il faisait beau. Il vitu que le l’arbre de dieu avait eétée mangée. Ils reparta en pleurant.

-“Attendezais- moi,” dit Uge. Mais ils eéttaient déejàa partis. Quand il etait rentera chez lui sa mèere avait trouver des fruits dans les montagnes. Le gâateau aux fruits éetait son préreféeréer. Et, de son pèere. il eut a eu des boutes de bois pour construire une luge.
Enfin Uge éetait trèes content.

Par Jed McNab, 8 ans.

The town

noreply@blogger.com (Rosi) — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 11:10:00 +0000

'The Town' a poem by Rosi McNab written after a visit to Rouen

La ville

Les cloches de l¹église annoncent le petit matin
et la ville commence à se réveiller;
L¹armée des ébouers passent dans les petites rues étroites de l¹ancienne
ville,
en ramassant les déchets de la veille;
Les balayeuses descendent dans les rues
en effaçant les traces des fêteurs de la nuit;
Le boulanger ouvre sa porte
en laissant l¹odeur du pain frais se répandre dans la rue;
Mme Hortense, toujours dans ses pantouffles descend l¹escalier de son
immeuble en tirant sa petite caniche derrière elle.
Elle la pousse dans la rue pour faire ses besoins dans le jardin du voisin;
Au tabac N. Gilbert ouvre sa jalousie
en fumant sa première cigarette de la journée;
Au bar Charlotte essuie les tables et vide les cendriers
en chantant avec le chanteur à la radio;
Son père descend pour brancher la machine à café
toujours en toussant;
Les talons des bottes noires de Mlle Jacqueline clic-clac sur la pavé;
En ouvrant la porte de sa boutique elle se penche pour ramasser le courier
M. Norbert, portefeuille et portable à la main fait semblance de ne pas
regarder
Et la ville est prête pour reçevoir ses clients.

Neil's medal

noreply@blogger.com (Rosi) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 20:36:00 +0000

Neil is to be awarded with his medal at the Kendal Mountain Film Festival on
22nd November.

Berlin

noreply@blogger.com (Rosi) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 12:46:00 +0000

I am sitting at my desk looking out of my window at the clear pale blue wintry sky and the flat calm silver blue sea, the islands in front of the house are pinkish in the morning light and my thoughts are on long ago in Berlin. Why Berlin? Well, I am working on an audio course for learning German. I have finished the French and the Mandarin and it has been translated into Spanish, Italian and Polish. Now it is going in to Greek, Turkish and Portuguese. It is the sort of thing you put on in your car or on your MP3 player whilst jogging or commuting and pick up enough language to make you not feel such an idiot when you arrive in a foreign country. Everyone else is supposed to speak English, but guess what? – some of them are no better at English than I am at Swahili and apart from recognising most of the names in the Lion King, Simba means lion etc. that is as far as my Swahili goes.

So for Unit 7 I wanted to find some nice places to suggest that one might want to go and visit on a trip to Germany. When I was writing about France it was easy – I could find enough well known buildings in Paris alone… but Berlin? What buildings have you heard of that are in Berlin? Well there is the Gedächtniskirche – the ruined church they keep as a monument to the war, and then there is … well … the Kölner Dom but that is in Cologne, the Cologne cathedral and there is Munich or München as they call it after the little Monks who founded the city, the original Munchkins presumably, and … can you think of one piece of amazing architecture that would make you want to get on a plane and go to Germany to see it? I remember being shown the concert hall in Berlin in 1959. It was referred to as the Pregnant Oyster and as I remembered it it was painted blue and pink, though I may be suffereing from false memory syndrome. Of course the Wall had not yet been built but the difference between the East and West was extraordinary. We travelled in the S-Bahn between the two sectors and were warned not to laugh, smile or joke when we were in the east. In the East the facades of buildings were left standing but behind them there were often just huge wooden props holding them up. The facades were draped with red banners proclaiming the glories of the Soviet state and “Lenin lived. lives and will live on forever!” Guess they got that one wrong.

One of the things which most struck us was that the streets in the East were empty. They were like a big film set waiting for a military parade, which is I suppose what they were. I was travelling to Moscow and Leningrad with the first group that the National Union of Students had ever sent there. We had been met at Victoria station and the most senior amongst us had been given an envelope of tickets, visas and other imprtant paper work and instructions. The journey to Berlin had been relatively uneventful. In those days you had to walk from the train in Dover to the boat down endless white tiled corridors and up the exposed gang plank. We sat on the deck shivering the nearly four hours it took to cross to Ostend. You could sit on folding wooden seats but the Belgian sailors used to put them away and charge you for the use of them even though the word GRATIS was printed on each one, and we were students, so we sat on the floor until the sailors gave up on us and went off to look for better prey. The train was pulled across Belgium by a large black engine belching out smoke. The German customs surged on to the train at Aachen in their jack boots and grey uniforms and the black engine was changed for another bigger one, but whilst they were changing engines you could get off the train for long enough to buy a small oblong cardboard plate with a frankfurter in a long bread bun and a good dollop of mustard and a plastic glass of beer to swill it down. After that it was back to the ‘cattle truck’. We were locked in our carriages like prisoners whilst the train crossed through East Germany to get to that island in the middle which was Berlin. We piled our luggage between the seats to try to make it as flat as possible so people could sleep and two of use slept in the luggage racks, which gave us more room but it was very uncomfortable as although they were made of netting they had metal bars across at incovenient places.

When we arrived in Berlin we were taken to the Free university for a meal and then taken on a tour of some of the west of the city before being sent off by ourselves to the East for our train to Warsaw. The Eastern station was like something out of a black and white war film. People standing in huddles with suitcases wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. When the train came in the doors were locked. Everyone surged forward and fought to get on as the doors were opened. When we got inside the compartment doors were locked too. We had reserved seats, but that made no difference. One of the more enterprising member of the group managed to ‘unlock’ some doors and we commadneered a couple of compartments, which caused a lot of shouting and screaming, but the train moved off and we were inside and hungry, thirsty and exhausted. A friendly Polish family offered us something to drink, which I naively thought was water. The Russian word for water is Voda so I wasn’t far wrong and we soon fell asleep.

Not much luck for inspiration there then, so it looks like it’s back to Google and Wiki for the time being. Anyone out there got any better ideas? Where do you think of as a tourist ‘must see’ sight in Germany?

Latest releases

noreply@blogger.com (Rosi) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 18:56:00 +0000

My latest 'books' will be out on July 7th but they are already discounted on
Amazon and Tesco books! They are Collins Easy Learning Audio language
courses, French Italian Spanish Polish and Mandarin. Have a look and Pre-order your copies now!

Neil awarded 'Citizens Medal of Valor'

noreply@blogger.com (Rosi) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 18:54:00 +0000

Neil McNab awarded the 'Citizens Medal of Valor' for the brave rescue of a fallen Korean climber on Denali (Mount McKinley 6194m) in Alaska 2004.
Read about Neil's dramatic rescue and medal - HERE

China Visit

noreply@blogger.com (Rosi) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 18:53:00 +0000

Keep watching for articles on my trip to China last month...

Voyage of the Aranui 3

noreply@blogger.com (Rosi) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 18:50:00 +0000

[ The Aranui 3 is a Polynesian boat based in Tahiti which carries supplies and passengers to the Marquesas islands].

Day one and the anglophone passengers were assembled in the lounge for the first of our daily briefings: Tall, beautiful Vai in her bright Polynesian dress and her long black tresses wound up behind her head and kept in place with what? a ball point pen? flashed a beaming smile around the assembled passengers like a primary teacher greeting a new class and determined to start well. READ MORE.....

Here we go

noreply@blogger.com (Rosi) — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 15:57:00 +0000

Travel stories and much more coming soon