11 клас. Контроль читання ( підсумкова робота) " A “Househusband”? "

Read the text and decide if the statement is True or False

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Choose the true or false statement. Вкажіть правильне твердження чи ні.

1) The man chose to stay at home because he could not find any job.

Read the text and decide if the statement is True or False

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Choose the true or false statement. Вкажіть правильне твердження чи ні.

2) His wife spends most of her time working outside the home.

Read the text and decide if the statement is True or False

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Choose the true or false statement. Вкажіть правильне твердження чи ні.

3) The man enjoys doing all the household chores every day.

Read the text and decide if the statement is True or False

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Choose the true or false statement. Вкажіть правильне твердження чи ні.

4) At the end of the story, the man feels depressed and unsure about his future.

Read the text and choose the right option for the questions and statements.

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Сhoose the right option

5) Why does the author have to be a stay-at-home husband and father?

Read the text and choose the right option for the questions and statements.

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Сhoose the right option

6) What does the author not do before going to the library on Tuesday?

Read the text and choose the right option for the questions and statements.

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Сhoose the right option

7) After leaving the library...

Read the text and choose the right option for the questions and statements.

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Сhoose the right option

8) After dinner the author’s wife...

Read the text and choose the right option for the questions and statements.

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Сhoose the right option

9) The evening finishes with the author

Read the text and choose the right option for the questions and statements.

A “Househusband”?

Frankly, I hate work because my work is all at home — I’m a stay-at-home husband and father. A few years ago I was made redundant and at approximately the same time my wife was promoted and had to start spending much more time at work. So it was decided I wouldn’t look for any job but stay at home and burden all the responsibilities for our home on my broad shoulders.

Have a brief look at my life. Up at 7.15 am, a smoke and a cuppa, the fire lit, the kids downstairs. See they’re washed, given their bit of breakfast, properly turned out, packed off to school. Another cuppa, another smoke, switch on “Housewives’ Choice”, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the ironing or sometimes get something fixed, and after an hour of this lot switch off “Housewives’ Choice”. Get washed, dressed, take our lovely dog for a walk by way of the railway line, then to the High Street where I make a round of greengrocer’s shops and pick up some fruit and vegetables, put all that in a bag carried for that purpose. The dog carries it home in his teeth, which used to amuse all my neighbours, but now they are quite used to that. Back to the house, put the fruit in a vase on the dinner table and the vegetables and other food into the fridge, tell our dog to be good, then off down the road to the laundry or dry cleaner’s and if it happens to be a Tuesday, to the local library for changing my library books.

After that I do the rest of the shopping, then come back home, brew another cuppa, this time with a slice of bread and marmalade, another smoke, then start in on the drudgery (household chores): keep all the rooms neat and tidy, dusting the furniture, vacuuming and putting everything to its place. When that’s done I plunge into the armchair for a bit of a doze which lasts about half an hour. Then it’s time to think about getting the kids’ tea ready, as they will soon be home.

When they’re fed, there’s dinner to fix for self and wife. She, by the way, is earning a welcome shilling or two running the household utensils department in the biggest department store in the city center while I am writing this in our kitchen, surrounded by all the labour-saving devices she sells, but I use. Then after she’s back home and we’ve eaten, got selves and dishes washed, we sit down in front of the telly for the remainder of the night, except, round about 9 o’clock, for another short walk with our dog.

When bedtime comes, my wife is sound asleep in her chair worn out after her day behind the counter; and I am bleary-eyed and very often depressed by some stuff I’ve been looking at on the box. Soon now my wife will be pushing off to bed where she likes to read a bit, and I take in perhaps the last hour by the dying fire.

Lovely life if you happen to be a turnip. But I am not a turnip, mate. I am a thoughtful, sensitive, widely-read man. I’m getting really depressed. At the same time, if I start looking for a job my wife will have to give up hers and I am not sure I will be able to bring in as much money as she does. What shall I do?

Сhoose the right option

10) Because the author is not happy with his life he is thinking about

Give your own answer to the following question.

Do you think it is natural for a husband to stay at home while his wife earns the family’s living?

Give your own answer to the following question.

Do you think the husband can cope with household chores as efficiently as the wife?