Engelsk B

stx-ENG/B-
Engelsk B
Studentereksamen
1. delprøve, uden hjælpemidler
kl. 09.00 - 10.00
Tirsdag den . maj
kl. . - .

Nedenstående rubrikker udfyldes.
Side 1 af 9 sider
Efter prøven afleveres dette hæfte med din besvarelse til en tilsynsførende.
Skolens/kursets navn:
Elevens/kursistens navn:
Klasse/hold:
Elevens/kursistens nummer:
Elevens/kursistens underskrift:
Tilsynsførendes signatur:
1stx121-ENG/B-29052012
Denne delprøve besvares uden brug af hjælpemidler.
Besvarelsen afleveres kl. 10.00

Side 2 af 9 sider
Besvar opgaverne i A-D
Ret fejlene i følgende sætninger og forklar på dansk dine rettelser. Der er kun én
fejl i hver sætning. Skriv den korrekte sætning på linjen nedenunder.
1. News about important events are always posted on the website.
2. When Harry Potter is admitted to Hogwarts, meets he new friends, but also new
enemies.
A

Side 3 af 9 sider
3. After all, the former Prime Minister of this country was a very responsibly person.
4. I sleeped so badly that night that I had to call in sick the next day.
5. I simply can’t remember were I left my sunglasses this morning.

Side 4 af 9 sider
6. On my way to school I came across a cat whose leg and tail was broken.
7. Gerard has a daughter, Lucy, which is eight years old.

B
Side 5 af 9 sider
De markerede verber (udsagnsord) nedenfor skal sættes i præsens (nutid).
Skriv præsensformen i skemaet, og forklar kort kongruensen (overensstemmelsen)
mellem subjekt og verballed (grundled og udsagnsled). Skriv dit svar på dansk.
The New Sun newspaper [to appear] with a manifesto that [to attempt] to set out a fresh
start to replace the News of the World.
The newspaper [to claim] to be “fearless and fun” after the scandals that [to have]
rocked Britain.
One of the first pages [to show] an exclusive interview with the Britain’s Got Talent
judge Amanda Holden. A picture of Holden cradling her daughter [to accompany] the
story, in which she [to describe] how she was “moments from death”.
Verbum
to appear
to attempt
to claim
to have
to show
to accompany
to describe
Præsensformen Forklaring af kongruensen
www.guardian.co.uk, 2012

Side 6 af 9 sider
Beskriv ligheder og forskelle mellem de to tekster nedenfor med hensyn til sætningsopbygning
og ordvalg. Underbyg dit svar med eksempler fra begge tekster.
Skriv dit svar på dansk.
TEXT 1
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C
TIME TO SPARKLE
PERMANENT & SEASONAL SALES PROFESSIONALS
All Tiffany & Co 1 . Sales Professionals, whether permanent or seasonal, share our
customers’ delight in finding that perfect piece. It will be your warmth and sparkle
that will add the final glow to your gift recommendations.
You will create the legendary “Tiffany Experience” with your impeccable customer
service and natural graciousness which makes our luxurious store environments
memorable. Your understanding of our brand will shine through in your immaculate
standard of presentation.
In return, you will enjoy competitive hourly rates, commission potential, the opportunity
to work in our elegant environment and be part of our legendary brand.
TEXT 2
To discover more about our Central London opportunities, please visit
TiffanyCareersUK.com
Please note that short-listed candidates will be invited to an interview in Central
London on Thursday 14 October 2010.
Tiffany & Co.
At Tiffany & Co. we believe a diverse workforce makes a difference.
Equal Opportunity Employer.
1 berømt smykkeforretning.
CAR MECHANIC
required for busy
private garage in Vauxhall.
Reasonable experience
required in diesel engines.
Salary negotiable.
Call 020 XXXX 5151 ext
2036 or 2055
Evening Standard, September 30, 2010

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Side 8 af 9 sider
Oversæt følgende sætninger til engelsk.
1. Bemærk venligst, at kontoret er lukket på mandag.
D
2. Efter at hun havde ringet til politiet, blev hun helt rolig og satte sig ned for at vente.
3. Folk vil gerne rejse så nemt og billigt som muligt nu til dags.

Side 9 af 9 sider
4. Efter at have fundet Troy Davis skyldig i mord, idømte retten ham dødsstraf.

Opgaven er produceret med anvendelse af kvalitetsstyringssystemet ISO 9001 og miljøledelsessystemet ISO 14001

stx-ENG/B-
Engelsk B
Studentereksamen
2. delprøve
kl. 09.00 - 14.00
Tirsdag den . maj
kl. . - .

Answer either A or B
A
Side 1 af 12 sider
The texts in section A focus on the UK riots in August 2011. Write a paper (700-1000
words) in which you answer the following questions. Answer the questions separately.
1. Give an outline of the views on what caused the UK riots presented in texts 1 and 2.
2. Characterise the tone and style used in text 3. Illustrate your answer with examples
from the text.
3. Taking your starting point in one of the texts, discuss how society can prevent
similar problems in the future.
Texts Page
1. Al Pessin, “Experts Cite Underlying Causes for UK Riots”, a news report
from Voice of America website, August 10, 2011 ....................... 2
2. Camila Batmanghelidjh, “Caring costs – but so do riots”, an article
from The Independent website, August 9, 2011 ......................... 4
3. “The Fightback”, an editorial from The Sun website, August 10, 2011 ....... 6
B
Write an essay (700-1000 words) in which you analyse and interpret Viv McDade’s short
story “A Gift for My Mother”. Your essay must include the following points:
- a characterisation of the narrator
- the setting
- the main character’s relationship to her parents
- the main theme
Text Page
Viv McDade, “A Gift for My Mother”, a short story, 2011 ..................... 8

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Side 2 af 12 sider
TEXT 1
A
Al Pessin
Experts Cite Underlying Causes for UK Riots
London was largely calm Wednesday, but the rioting that engulfed the British capital for
the past four nights has spread to other cities, including Manchester and Birmingham.
British Prime Minister David Cameron authorized police to use water cannons, which is
a first for the British mainland, saying a “fightback” is under way to restore law and order
to Britain’s streets.
Observers say the rioting was not based on specific political or economic demands, but
they acknowledge there are underlying reasons that so many young people are willing to
take part in looting, arson and vandalism – on a scale the country has not seen in many
years.
In London and other British cities, young people burned cars and buildings, looted
stores and fought with police.
The riots broke out after a still-unresolved shooting by police 1 in a poor North London
neighborhood. However, that was just the spark. Many Londoners initially assumed the
violence was a backlash from chronic unemployment, slow economic recovery and cuts
to public service spending by the country’s new government.
But there were no slogans, no chanting, no demands. And it soon became clear to many
that this was something different.
Geography Professor Chris Hamnett, of King’s College, lives in North London, not far
from some of the worst rioting.
“Essentially, what we’ve seen is rioting for fun and profit. This is not people expressing
their anger against an oppressive state,” said Hamnett. “This is people thinking it would
be nice to get a slice of the action.”
The riots were concentrated in neighborhoods with large African and Caribbean populations,
which have a history of tension with the police. Hamnett said those Londoners
generally have less education, more unemployment and higher crime rates than other
Britons.
“There’s a racial dimension to the rioting and the looting, but it’s not one of racial
oppression. But there is undoubtedly a quite strong class and economic element,” said
Hamnett.
Not far from the professor’s house, police stood guard as crews worked to clean up the
damage from the previous night’s rioting. Basani Mabyalane lives in the neighborhood.
1 the death of a young man during an arrest.

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“I feel there is maybe more that could be done to empower the young people because,
from what I saw yesterday, to me it looked like they don’t have much to do,” said Mabyalane.
“They have got the time. They have got the energy. But they are using that energy
on negative things.”
In the North London neighborhood of Haringey, some young people are trying to do
something positive, through a group called HYPE – “Haringey’s Young People Empowered.”
One of them is Erica Lopez.
“To be honest, I think at the moment it’s mainly to do with looting. A majority of people
are just looting to loot, with no reason, just because they want to do it. Simple as that,”
said Lopez.
Lopez said she does not condone the violence, but understands and shares the pent up
anger many of her young neighbors feel about a lack of job opportunities and cuts in government
funding to youth services.
“The government really needs to actually take time and listen to these young people
because for a long time they have been crying in silence saying, ‘This is what matters to
me.’ They have really been crying for a long time,” she said.
But on Wednesday, after cutting short his vacation, meeting with police officers and
chairing 1 two emergency government meetings to deal with the unrest, the British prime
minister was not showing any sympathy toward those who engaged in violence and looting.
Cameron attributed the unrest to selfishness, lack of responsibility, poor discipline in
schools and bad parenting.
“It is all too clear that we have a big problem with gangs in our country. For too long
there’s been a lack of focus and a complete lack of respect shown by these groups of thugs.
I’m clear that they are in no way representative of the vast majority of young people in our
country, who despise them, frankly, as much as the rest of us do. But there are pockets of
our society that are not just broken, but frankly sick.”
Cameron promised tougher police tactics, harsh punishment for those convicted of
crimes during the riots, and that looters caught on film, whose pictures have been published
online and in British newspapers, would be arrested and prosecuted.
Officials are determined to regain control, regardless of the reasons for the violence.
1 leading.
(2011)

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TEXT 2
Camila Batmanghelidjh
Caring costs – but so do riots
These rioters feel they don’t actually belong to the community. For years, they’ve felt cut
adrift from society.
Shops looted, cars and buildings burnt out, young adults in hoods on the rampage.
London has woken up to street violence, and the usual narratives have emerged – punish
those responsible for the violence because they are “opportunist criminals” and “disgusting
thieves”. The slightly more intellectually curious might blame the trouble on poor
police relations or lack of policing.
My own view is that the police in this country do an impressive job and unjustly carry
the consequences of a much wider social dysfunction. Before you take a breath of sarcasm
thinking “here she goes, excusing the criminals with some sob story”, I want to begin by
stating two things. First, violence and looting can never be justified. Second, for those of
us working at street level, we’re not surprised by these events.
Twitter and Facebook have kept the perverse momentum going, transmitting invitations
such as: “Bare shops are gonna get smashed up. So come, get some (free stuff!!!!)
F... the feds 1 we will send them back with OUR riot! […] So if you see a brother... SALUTE!
If you see a fed... SHOOT!”
If this is a war, the enemy, on the face of it, are the “lawless”, the defenders are the lawabiding.
An absence of morality can easily be found in the rioters and looters. How, we
ask, could they attack their own community with such disregard? But the young people
would reply “easily”, because they feel they don’t actually belong to the community. Community,
they would say, has nothing to offer them. Instead, for years they have experienced
themselves cut adrift from civil society’s legitimate structures. Society relies on
collaborative behaviour; individuals are held accountable because belonging brings personal
benefit. Fear or shame of being alienated keeps most of us pro-social.
Working at street level in London, over a number of years, many of us have been concerned
about large groups of young adults creating their own parallel antisocial communities
with different rules. The individual is responsible for their own survival because the
established community is perceived to provide nothing. Acquisition of goods through
violence is justified in neighbourhoods where the notion of dog eat dog pervades and the
top dog survives the best. The drug economy facilitates a parallel subculture with the
drug dealer producing more fiscally efficient 2 solutions than the social care agencies who
are too under-resourced to compete.
The insidious flourishing of anti-establishment attitudes is paradoxically helped by the
establishment. It grows when a child is dragged by their mother to social services scream-
1 (her): strisserne.
2 økonomisk fordelagtige.

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ing for help and security guards remove both; or in the shiny academies which, quietly,
rid themselves of the most disturbed kids. Walk into the mental hospitals and there is
nothing for the patients to do except peel the wallpaper. Go to the youth centre and you
will find the staff have locked themselves up in the office because disturbed young men
are dominating the space with their violent dogs. Walk on the estate stairwells with your
baby in a buggy manoeuvring past the condoms, the needles, into the lift where the best
outcome is that you will survive the urine stench and the worst is that you will be raped.
The border police arrive at the neighbour’s door to grab an “over-stayer 1 ” and his kids are
screaming. British children with no legal papers have mothers surviving through prostitution
and still there’s not enough food on the table.
It’s not one occasional attack on dignity, it’s a repeated humiliation, being continuously
dispossessed in a society rich with possession. Young, intelligent citizens of the
ghetto seek an explanation for why they are at the receiving end of bleak Britain, condemned
to a darkness where their humanity is not even valued enough to be helped. Savagery
is a possibility within us all. Some of us have been lucky enough not to have to call
upon it for survival; others, exhausted from failure, can justify resorting to it.
Our leaders still speak about how protecting the community is vital. The trouble is, the
deal has gone sour. The community has selected who is worthy of help and who is not. In
this false moral economy where the poor are described as dysfunctional, the community
fails. […]
It costs money to care. But it also costs money to clear up riots, savagery and antisocial
behaviour. I leave it to you to do the financial and moral sums.
1 (her): illegal immigrant.
(2011)

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TEXT 3
The Sun 1 says
The Fightback
Parliament meets tomorrow in emergency session to discuss the riots. What should it do?
Expressing outrage is not enough.
MPs must ask how they can help police defeat the anarchy engulfing our cities.
The Sun demands decisive action.
The law on rioting must be toughened. Our brave police must be given a free hand to
smash the mobs whatever it takes.
Wearing masks on the street should be made illegal. Let’s reduce overseas aid and
reverse police cuts.
The courts must be ruthless. The maximum sentence for riot is ten years. So let’s see it
applied.
Jailed thugs must serve every day. And no let-off for young rioters.
MPs must also demand the Home Office 2 provide more prison spaces.
As The Sun has warned, we have not built enough jails. If the cells are full, deport foreign
criminals. Too bad about human rights laws.
Rioting morons must be put behind bars, and the nastier the conditions the better.
Terrorised
You can help. If you recognise a thug from our Shop A Moron 3 pictures today, call
Crimestoppers.
Parliament must also think about popular social networking sites.
Yesterday, they had a positive role as decent Londoners used Twitter and Facebook to
arrange clean-up squads and support the police.
1 British tabloid newspaper.
2 Indenrigsministeriet.
3 opfordring til at indsende billeder af formodede bøller til offentliggørelse.

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But these sites were also used to co-ordinate riots. Site bosses must hand all such messages
to cops.
As for water cannon, Sun readers overwhelmingly demand their use.
We’re told they are not used in mainland Britain. But they are acceptable in Northern
Ireland. Crazy. Surely a thug is a thug, whether in London or Londonderry.
Parliament must not be squeamish about tear gas and plastic bullets. They are there to be
used.
Above all let’s not see tomorrow’s Commons 1 debate descend into cynical political
point-scoring.
We’ve had enough of that from Labour’s Red Ken Livingstone 2 , ably supported by BBC
toadies trying to blame evil crimes on “the cuts”.
Order must be restored and justice delivered for those who have been terrorised and
robbed, those who have been burned out of house and home, and those who have seen
their businesses torched and a lifetime’s hard work destroyed.
Britain looks to Parliament to rise to the occasion and provide the leadership we
have been lacking.
1 House of Commons.
2 Ken Livingstone, British Labour politician. His nickname is ”Red Ken”.
(2011)

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B
Viv McDade
A Gift for My Mother
In the year I turned ten I picked my mother a bunch of wild flowers in the bushveld 1
behind our house, tiny star-shaped flowers with white on the top and pink underneath,
daisies the colour of egg yolks and a sprig from a lucky bean creeper.
“They’re beautiful,” she said, turning the little bunch to look at the shape and colour of
each flower, the red and black lucky beans snug in their dry brown pod. She arranged the
flowers in a jar of water and put them on the windowsill beside the stove so she could see
them while she was cooking.
“I love a fresh flower in the house,” she said in her dreamy voice. “If I had my time
over, Lucy, I’d have everything just perfect, nothing but the best.” I knew she was thinking
about the houses on the other side of the railway line, houses with hallways and moulded
skirting boards and neighbours who didn’t go down to the shops with chiffon scarves over
their curlers. But that evening they weren’t on her mind long enough to make her angry or
sad and after a little while she moved the jar of flowers along the windowsill into the last
of the sunlight, and she was humming when she wiped down the sink.
I sat at the kitchen table doing my maths homework until I heard Dad’s car and ran out
to meet him. He opened the door and leaned out to kiss me. “Hello, my precious.” My
mother hates that. “For God’s sake, it’s a wonder the child hasn’t grown up thinking her
name was My Precious.”
“I was the only one who could spell illiterate,” I tell him.
“Fantastic. You’re the best speller I know.”
“I’m stuck with a maths problem. If eight men dig a ditch in two hours how many eighthour
days will it take two men to dig the same ditch?”
“We’ll work it out when we put our minds to it.”
He’s very good at explaining things and never makes you feel nervous or stupid. My
mother thinks his job at the garage isn’t much, but he’s a far better teacher than Mrs
Emmerson.
He wiped his shoes on the mat before we went into the kitchen. “Hello,” he said, as if
he was asking a question, and my mother’s voice was tired and small when she answered
him. He took a deep breath and slapped the little brown envelope of wages down on the
table.
“How much is there this week?” asked my mother, and she gave a little laugh.
“As much as I’ve earned, that’s how much.”
“What you’ve earned isn’t enough for us to live on.”
“Then die on it,” he said, walking out of the kitchen, “because it’s all there is.”
My mother snatched a pot from the cupboard, banged it into the sink and opened the
1 well-grassed plains in South Africa.

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tap so wide the water ran over the top. After she switched off the tap she looked out the
window for a long time.
It was getting dark outside when she told me to set the table. I switched on the light,
and she pulled the curtains closed, leaving the jar of flowers in the darkness.
Next day after school I went around the back of the supermarket and searched for a box
in the yard. Most were cardboard and too big or too deep but in the end I found a shallow
wooden peach box that was perfect.
At home I put tins of water in the box, changed into old clothes and went out the back
gate with the box and scissors from the kitchen. The paths that led through the bush over
to the factories on the road to the airport were sharp and clear but I chose an overgrown
path. The leaves of the msasa 1 trees were shiny, and the sun made it look as if there were
diamonds on the big granite boulders.
After a while my arms got tired holding the box so I sat on the edge of the path and
watched a line of polished black ants follow each other into the long yellow grass and
listened to birds calling pttt pttt from the trees. I left the box in the shade of a boulder. The
ground felt hot through my sandals and the long dry grass scraped my legs. There were all
kinds of daisies: tiny and white, and yellow and orange ones as big as my hand. I cut the
stems as long as I could and took each handful back to the box to put them in water. I was
reaching over a clump of blackjacks to cut off their flowers and they’d scattered their tiny
black spikes on my T-shirt and shorts when I spotted my first flame lily, its wavy sweptback
petals bright red at the top and yellow at the bottom exactly as if it was on fire. Mrs
Emmerson had shown us a picture and told us it was illegal to pick them and you were
very lucky if you saw one. I longed to give my mother something so beautiful and precious
but shivered at the thought of becoming a criminal. I was lucky to find a big bush
full of tiny white candle-shaped flowers with yellow tips and trumpets of witch weed 2
with black spots in their hearts. […]
By the time I got home the long grass was making shadows across the path and I’d
worked out everything I needed to do. I laid out the flowers and divided them into ten
bunches – some all one kind of flower, others different flowers but shades of the same
colour and others I mixed up. I made daisy chains out of string and used them to tie up the
flowers before arranging the bunches in the tins of water and putting my purse in the box
beside them.
On the street I decided not to start with the du Toits or the Thompsons because they
lived beside us and might tell my mother. Instead I walked five streets away and went to
the house at the end. It felt safer to start with strangers.
There was a tricycle in the garden and a puddle of water around the sprinkler in the
middle of the yellowy lawn. A safety chain held the front door slightly open and inside a
voice on the radio was talking about a shop that had been burgled and a man who was
helping the police with their investigations.
A woman’s voice called out, “I’m telling you for the last time, put those toys away.”
I knocked on the door, a soft knock at first and then louder. I was thinking about leav-
1 African trees.
2 African plants.

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ing and going next door when I heard flip-flops slapping to the door. A woman carrying
a baby, so small its head had hardly any hair and its cheek was squashed against her shoulder,
looked through the gap in the doorway. “Good afternoon,” I said. “Would you like to
buy some flowers for sixpence a bunch?”
A telephone started ringing in the house, and she hesitated for a moment as if she might
go to answer it, then changed her mind. “Flowers?” she said. “You must be joking!” She
turned her head. “I’m not going to say it again. Put those toys away this minute.” Then she
looked at me again, took the chain off and opened the door.
“Does your mother know what you’re doing, pet?”
“No,” I said. “I’m going to surprise her.”
“Well, your flowers are beautiful. It cheers me up just looking at them.”
She took one of the mixed bunches into the house, and when she came back she gave
me a sixpence and four toffees in waxy white paper with blue writing. “You be careful
crossing the road with that box,” she said.
On the way out I put down the box and closed the gate, then opened it again when I
remembered that was how I’d found it.
In the garden two houses down a man was pruning a creamy rose bush beside his
veranda, standing back a little to look at it and pinching his cheek slowly before he cut off
each branch. He turned when he heard the click of the gate latch and put his head to one
side as he walked down the drive to meet me.
“Those look nice,” he said.
“Do you think you might like some?”
“Of course I would like some,” he said. “What are you charging?”
“Sixpence a bunch,” I said, and immediately wished I’d lowered my price. “Bring them
up here,” he said, going onto the veranda. “I’ll go in and get my wife so we can choose
together.”
His wife was round and quick with a smile that took up her whole face. “What will you
do with the money you get from the flowers?”
“It’s going to be a surprise.”
“That’s nice,” said the man.
“For my mother,” I said.
His wife loved all the flowers but the little white daisies were her favourite because she
said “Definitely these” when her husband asked “What’ll we get?”
In the end they bought three bunches: daisies for the kitchen and two mixed bunches
for the lounge. The man fetched his wallet and gave me two shillings.
“There you go,” he said, “and you can keep the change.” When I looked back from the
gate he held up his thumb and called out, “Good luck.”
I could feel the purse in my pocket and I knew the flowers were even more beautiful
than I’d thought. People were friendly and interested to know my name and where I lived
and if my mother was at home, and although the bunches with longer stems went first,
nearly everyone found it hard to know which ones to choose.
At one house a boy with pimples and a black T-shirt that had “So what?” in pink writing
on the front, came to the door with a cigarette in his hand.

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He looked at the two bunches I had left. “So how much money have you made?”
“Four shillings and sixpence so far,” I said.
“Cool. Almost enough to buy yourself some wheels. Look here, my old lady’s out at the
moment but if she wasn’t I reckon she’d buy.”
In less than an hour I’d sold the ten bunches and went home with the purse full of
money. I emptied it onto the kitchen table and made a little tower of each kind of coin. Five
and sixpence: five shillings for the flowers, and the extra sixpence from the people who’d
bought three bunches.
I thought about boiling the kettle and setting out the cups. I’d make the tea when I heard
the bus, and when we were settled at the table I’d casually show her the money. But I was
too excited to stick to the plan so I washed my face and legs, changed into fresh shorts and
my lace-collar blouse, ran down the road to the bus stop and sat on the verge, jiggling my
leg against the fat purse in my pocket.
The bus pulled in and my mother was sitting right at the front. As soon as she got up
from her seat she saw me and waved, and hugged me against her when she came down the
steps. “That blouse is lovely,” she said. “You’re a good girl to come down to the bus in it.”
I took the shopping bag from her and saw there was milk and a packet of meat. “Are we
having chops?” I asked.
“Chops?” she said. “Where would the money come from for chops?”
“I’ve got a present for you.”
“A present?” she said. ”Have you really?”
In the kitchen I opened the purse and emptied it onto the table. “It’s for you. It’s the
present.”
She looked at the money and then at me.
“Where did this money come from?”
“I got it from flowers, flowers like the ones I gave you.”
“What are you talking about, Lucy?”
I started to tell her about the peach box I’d found in the yard behind the supermarket,
the daisy chains and the flowers, but before I could finish she slapped the table hard with
both hands. “Are you telling me, are you really telling me that you went around the neighbourhood
selling bits of flowers you got from the bush?” She sat down like an old woman
and put her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. A big sob came out of her, and
when she looked up her face was twisted and wet. “People will think I sent you, they’ll
think I dressed you up and sent you out to sell flowers from the bush.”
“I didn’t dress up,” I said. “I dressed up for you.”
“Look at you!” She pressed her fingers against her eyes and shook her head. “I want
you to go back. Go and give the money back. Tell them your mother won’t let you keep it.”
“I don’t want to keep it,” I said. “It’s for you.”
“Listen to what I am saying, Lucy. You are to say your mother will not allow you to
keep the money. That’s what you must say.”
I went back with my purse to each of the houses and told the people I had to give back
the money. “Well, if that’s what your mother wants,” some said. Others asked why I had
to give it back but I wasn’t able to tell them. The man and his wife who had bought the

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three bunches weren’t at home so I left the money on the mat in front of their door.
The last person I went to was the woman who’d bought the first bunch and given me
the toffees. “Look,” she said. “I don’t know what all this is about but you can tell your
mother I will not give back the flowers. If she’s not happy with that, she can come up here
to me and we’ll talk about it.” I walked home thinking about how everyone else had taken
back their money as though it had nothing to do with the flowers.
“Well,” said my mother, “What did they say? Did you tell them your mother wouldn’t
let you keep the money?”
I put the sixpence on the table. “One woman wouldn’t take it. She said you can go and
see her about it.”
“What woman?”
“I don’t know. She lives in the big yellow house near the shop.”
My mother reached across the table for her handbag. “I have nothing to say to her, or
to any of them,” she said. She put the coin in her purse and then went over to the sink. Her
knife was sharp and fast against the potatoes, and the water splashed when she threw
them into the pot.
(2011)

Anvendt materiale (til brug for Copydan):
Cass Jones. “Rupert Murdoch: ‘Sun on Sunday will be fearless, fun … and ethical’”. The Guardian website,
February 26, 2012, viewed February 2012. (www.guardian.co.uk)
Evening Standard, September 30, 2010.
Al Pessin. “Experts Cite Underlying Causes for UK Riots”. Voice of America website, August 10, 2011,
viewed August 2011. (www.voanews.com)
Camila Batmanghelidjh. “Caring costs – but so do riots”. The Independent website, August 9, 2011,
viewed August 2011. (www.independent.co.uk)
“The Fightback”. The Sun website, August 10, 2011, viewed August 2011. (www.thesun.co.uk)
Viv McDade. “A Gift for My Mother”. New Irish Short Stories. Ed. Joseph O’Connor. London: Faber and
Faber, 2011.

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