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propaganda.net : Skole & Jobb
The Three LionsSkriv ut Utskrift
Eksamensbesvarelse, våren 1999. Toppkarakter.
Engelsk - FortellingForfatter:



As I walked down the dim street I was cursing the English weather, while I could feel the rain water run slowly down my back. Yet another rainy day. The light was so dim that I could hardly see the street infront of me, and every now and then I managed to step into one of the water puddles that was starting to take shape. "Bloody hell!" i shouted while standing up to my ancles in water, the shoues I was wearing were more suited for walks on the beach, not for attempting to walk on water like some historical person.As i proceeded ot walk down the street, I started to hear noises, almost like a group of people gathered at one place. And much to my delight I stumbled oupon a old fasion english pub. A place to seek refuge from the terrencial rainfall that was flooding down on me. I looked up and saw a old, worn down sign, "The Three Lions" it said, or so it seemed, the light, or lack of it, and the rain made it rather difficult to read.As I opened the heavy oak door, the noise inside hit me straight in the face. "Seems like I’m not the only one seeking shelter from the pouring rain." I thought to myselfe.

 

The pub was close to packed full, and I could hear groups of people in heated debates. Maybe they were discussing the conflict in the balkans, or the new tax-reformes the government had started, maybe even foreign politics. The most likely answer to what they were discussing were probably to be found in the sport section of all the newspapers.While I was standing in the doorway soaking up the atmosphere I saw the counter in the far end of the pub and decided to make my way over to it. As I was sneaking past all the people standing around the small tables, trying not to bump into them I by accident walked straight into a huge man carrying 4-5 pints, and much to my horror he spilled quite alot of beer on himselfe. At that time I thougth the next thing i would see was the ceiling of a hospital. Looking up at his face I could see what appeared to me as a relative of Jack The Ripper. But much to my suprise he just smiled at me and said "Sorry mate.", and walked on.After a few minutes of dodging people and sneaking past other people I had finaly managed to get to the front of the counter. And again, much to my suprise, I found a empty chair to sit in, and placed myselfe gentry ontop of it. After a minute or so a well built man came up to me behind the counter, from the looks of it he must have been working here all his life. He looked at me the way people look at you when they are asking you something, and I lifted up a finger as to tell him "One pint, please." He obviously understood me as he walked a little further down and started pouring me a pint of dark beer. Once he got back I handed him a pound and he wandered off to serve other people.

 

After taking a large mouthfull of the beer, I started to get more relaxed, as I could feel the round taste of the beer all the way down to my toes. I let my eyes wander across the crowd and all I could see was happy people. One thing that struck me was the friendlyness to everyone, almost like one big happy family at a sunday picknick. I also started to think about that huge guy I had bumped into, the most striking was that he apologized to me after I had walked into him. If he had wanted to he could have put me in the hospital for weeks, but all he did was smile at me. Amazing how friendly people can be at times when you least expect it.Another thing that came to my mind, was how many people came to this pub, as if it was the only oasis in a vast desert, a gathering point for all kinds of people. But not to get drunk, but to share a pint with good friends, a social gathering. Guess it shows what a importaint role the small, cramped pubs have in the english history and tradition, and it’s well known that English people stick to traditions.After finishing the pint I looked out one of the few stained glass windows that were located on the wall towards the street, from the looks of it the rain had stopped, or atleast the worst part of it. I climbed down from the chair and started to make my way back to the entrance. Once at the entrance I took one quick glance over the crowd, as to say good bye, then I stepped back out to the street. I started on my long, boring way home again. One experience richer. One memory richer.


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