You know we all from time to time have to be hosts and entertain our guests.I, too,  had visitors last Sunday and want to share my observations.

    One of the guests was a sociable guy and he went directly to the pie. He was crunching and munching loudly without a trace of embarrassment. Indeed, I think he could have paid a little more attention to the host.     The other guy was so shy that he wouldn't even look at the treat, let alone support a decent conversation.So, when he finally decided to peep out, there was no pie left!    And it was time to leave.... But I couldn't let him go home disappointed so he had to take at least an apple to devour in his quiet place.     There is one more type of guests that visited me some time ago. Those are the bold type. They come early, take the best places and feel no scruples in demanding for food. It is pure luck that they don't eat much, though I must say they are real gourmets. Best of luck with your guests, my friends!!! :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

              Human nature is one of the most interesting subjects to learn. You can meet such a variety of characters and personalities that you'll never get bored. As it was mentioned by the magnificent Jane Austen, "For what do we live but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?"

          Our neighbours are those lucky people that never have lack of attention from our side. Likewise, we are the target of their critical and watchful eyes.

        My uncle's neighbour in the village was notorous for her criticism. She was the first to notice if there was some disorder in anybody's dress or hair, or something misplaced in the yard or house of other villager. She would point to the discovered drawback immediately! To do her credit, she never uttered such remarks as "There's a stain on your left sleeve, dear".She had an artful way of delivering her criticisms. After seeing on a holiday one of the aunties in a new dress which she considered not very becoming to her, our critical neighbour would accidentally say (carefully choosing a moment when there were many women around) "Oh, I saw such dresses sold at a big discount in town. I'm going to buy one, too, for work in the kitchen-garden."

   However, when her criticism turned to her husband, it became a mere nagging. That man had long ago been humbled by her. We don't know at which point of life she took over him. But at the time of our story the villagers quite often heard her shrill voice speaking to her husband "Look, the Semyonovs have already done the mowing! Why can't you do anything in time?" And I can't say that the villagers sympathized with the husband. Outside his house he was a boastful and arrogant man.

       On early summer mornings when all the women stood at their gates to see their cows off to the pasture her young neighbour, a smart and jolly lad of twenty, would intentionally go past her gate from a still earlier fishing, with a large bucket full of silvery fish. He would pause on the doorstep just long enough to hear her call to her husband "See, that young lout has caught such plenty of fish again! Why can't you do it?"

     But none of them knew that the bucket was more than two-thirds full of grass and stones, and the fish were only on top of them.....

A Fate to Fear
I was my mum’s pet as most people used to think. She took me along with her when she went shopping or to see her friends. I even was a frequent visitor to her work. But no, mum didn’t choose me as her companion because she preferred me to my siblings. The fact is that I was the quietest of her kids. She knew that I wouldn’t bother her with my childish babble or any requests. I would just be there beside her, and speak only when addressed or when there wasn’t anybody near.
So, there was I – a silent witness with dreamy eyes, absorbing the impressions and expressions of adult world. Indeed, those were various. You could hear a whole life story, exciting news of someone’s wedding, or a thrilling narration behind an ordinary purchase of a dress. Women are generally voluble and I sometimes happened to see them unite their sharp tongues and drive away some incautious man with their caustic jokes.
It is during those walks with my mum that I took notice of that woman. She was past middle age but not really old. She always reminded me of an old crow, a fat crow, to be more exact. She never joined a conversation and seemed not to be interested in any local gossip. She just said her “morning”, “what’s the time” or some other common phrase. Her presence hushed the merriment if there was any. It wasn’t dislike, the local folks somewhat shunned her.
Once I heard a neighbour say “God save me from such life!” glancing towards that woman. I caught my chance to satisfy my curiosity and asked mum “Why?..” Her explanation didn’t impress me greatly then but was striking enough to be remembered. She had four children and all of them died in their prime, and none a peaceful death. That woman outlived all her family. Thinking of that now, it horrifies me as much as it did my neighbours. Aren’t the children our future, the continuation of ourselves, the coming true of parents’ dreams? What can be worse than to see it all perish?
God save me from such life…

I met this woman in a summer camp. She was about thirty-five, blue-eyed with thin features of her rather pretty face. She wore her fair hair short not because it became her but because she didn't care for hairstyles. She didn't even trouble to dye the greying strands of hair. Her usual outfit was a colourless T-shirt and old-fashioned baggy jeans.

Her name was Rita if my memory serves me right. She never got married and , indeed, she was so shy it was imposible to imagine her ruling the household. You'd sooner picture her being ordered about by babies. Her voice sounded so faintly that it seemed she could hardly hear it herself. Rita was the last one to take her dinner in the dining room and ate it in hurried quietness sitting in the corner. When anybody addressed her she blushed and stammered replying even if it was the youngest teenager.As she walked on the camp paths she looked down and kept to the side.

Rita was an ornithologist by profession.She knew all birds by their feathers and by their flight. She could tell you which bird it was even if you pointed to a tiny speck in the sky. Birds were the subject in which she was knowledgeable and that was when she became voluble. Rita could talk on ornithology without end. With shining eyes she would describe the habits of birds, her voice would sound excited and it had a nice tone, by the way.

Once she told us of a baby owl which she had found in the woods. She saw it on the ground under a tree. The nest in the hole some feet above the ground was destroyed by some animal. Rita took that tiny baby owl home and was looking after it. She told us that the bird was so small it needed a specially cooked food. So Rita chopped little mice into tiny pieces for that bird. That was the only food the baby owl ate.

The picture of that timid woman depriving  one creature of its life for the sake of another stuck in me. Aren't we all like Rita in this way? Finding courage and being ruthless when we feel we are in the right? Or are we all beasts inside?

I read this tale and it amazed me. It is a German tale but I read it in Russian and translated into English so as to share with you.

Mr. Korbes

Once upon a time there lived a hen and a rooster. One day they decided to go on a trip. The rooster made a beautiful carriage with four red wheels. He harnessed four mice instead of horses.

The rooster and the hen got into the carriages and went on their way. Soon they met a cat. The cat asked them ”Where are you going?”  The rooster answered “ We are hurrying to Mr. Korbes.”

“Oh, let me go with you”, asked the cat. “OK”, replied the rooster. And the cat got into the carriage.

After that they met a millstone, an egg, then a duck, a pin and a needle.They took all those with them and continued their travel.

When they arrived at their destination, Mr.Korbes didn’t happen to be at home.The mice drew the carriage into the shed, the hen and the rooster flew up on the perch, the cat climbed on the stove, the duck sat on the curb of the well, the egg wrapped itself in the towel, the pin stuck itself in the armchair, the needle jumped on the bed, and the millstone climbed on the door.

Mr. Korbes came back home . He approached the stove to make a fire but the cat threw cinders at his face. Mr. korbes ran to the well to wash his face but the duck splashed him with water from head to feet. He took a towel to dry his face but the egg rolled out and smashed into his eyes. After that Mr. Korbes  sat in the armchair but the pin pricked him. Now he really lost his temper and decided to rest on his bed. As soon as he touched the pillow, the needle pricked him. Mr.Korbes  gave a loud cry, jumped from the bed and ran from the house. As he was running to the door, the millstone jumped down – and killed him.

That Mr.Korbes must have been a horribly bad person!!!

You need : 3 eggs, 1,5 glass of sugar, 1,5 glass of flour, 1,5 glass of sour cream, 0,5 glass of raisins, 0,5 glass of prunes, 0,5 glass of poppy seed, 3 teaspoons of baking powder

For the cream: a can of condenced milk, 200 g of butter, any fruits for decorating the cake

     Make dough for the first layer: 1 egg, 0,5 glass of sugar, o,5 glass of flour, 0,5 glass of sour cream, 1 teaspoon of baking powder, then add  poppy seeds

  Second layer: the same ingredients plus prunes

 Third layer : the same ingredients plus raisins

Bake all the three layers and let them cool.

Make the cream: beat up soft butter with condensed milk.

Then spread each layer with cream and decorate with fruits.

        Bon appetite !!!

I read this story quite a while ago, so I may not be very accurate in details. But the main idea is unchanged.I was really impressed by the story.

There lived a man, let him be called Waine. he was a kind-hearted man. Once he let in his house a wanderer to spend a night, for it was stormy and cold.The wanderer was old and in shabby clothes but still the man treated him with respect . In the morning, before going away, the wanderer gave the man a small wooden box.He said "I want to thank you for your kindness. This box will help you out in any situation, if you simply open it . But remember, you can use the box only once, so open it when you are in extreme necessity."

The man cherished the box as treasure. After a year or so they had very little harvest, hardly enough to keep them alive.His wife pleaded"Let us open the box, we are having the worst time ever." But the man answered " No, we can last till the next season and then perhaps we'll have better luck". So they lived through a very bad year and indeed their next harvest was rich.

Then in hot weather their house caught fire.Again the wife pleaded as they were watching it burn to ashes "Aren't we having extreme necessity now? Open the box!"  "No",replied the husband. "It's not extreme necessity.We are all safe and I managed to save our money, too. We can build a new house."

Some time later when they were living in a new house, his son fell ill. Doctors were called for but all medicine couldn't help. The child lay in high fever and got weaker day by day."Oh, dear husband, save our son! Open the box!",his wife cried. The husband thought "Who knows if this is really the worst time? I have two more sons." He didn't open the box. His son died.

After some years a cruel enemy attacked their village. They captured women and children and sold them as slaves. All men took their weapons and went to fight. So did Waine. He was fighting like a lion but the enemies were outnumbering. He ran trying to save his life.The enemies were chasing him.Suddenly he discovered that he had nowhere to run  - he was on the edge of a precipice and the enemies were near.

He took the box out of  his pocket hurriedly and opened it. Inside there was a piece of paper which read "And this will pass, too..."

I read this story in a newspaper and decoded to share. And I recorded my reading it. So you can read and listen to the story.https://audioboo.fm/boos/2191892-an-old-tale

It happened in old times when parents chose marriage partners for their children without even asking for their agreement. Divorces were not allowed either.

There lived a nice girl in one village. She was good-looking, hard-working and sweet-tempered. But – oh, bad luck for her! – she came from a poor family.

Love doesn’t differ between rich and poor, so this girl fell in love with the son of the head of the village. The guy was as handsome as he was rich. But - more bad luck for the poor girl – he was a bit of a rascal.

Knowing that she liked him, the guy tried to seduce the poor girl. She wouldn’t give in at first but eventually he tempted her by promising to marry her. It was settled between them that they would spend three nights together, and if the girl didn’t tell anybody about the promised marriage during those three days, the guy would ask her hand in the marriage season (which started right after the harvest time).

The guy was sure that the girl would be too happy to keep such a secret and he knew that women are fond of discussing love matters.

So they spent one night, then the other. It was summer and the girl slept in the verandah and it was easy for her lover to come unnoticed.

Early in the morning after the third night the girl hurried to her mother and told that she expected the son of the village head to become her husband because he had given a promise. She didn’t know that the guy had crept after her and heard every word. He walked away quietly smiling to himself.

Harvest time passed. The village head arranged a marriage for his son with the only daughter of some landowner from a distant village. The landowner was giving a considerable amount of land as dowry to his daughter.The wedding day was appointed.

In those old days the bride and the groom came to the church in separate carriages and after the ceremony they went together to their home.

The poor girl heard this news and went to meet the groom’s carriage. She managed to stop him a little distance from the church and accused him of broken promise. The guy replied coldly that she was the first to break the agreement and went by.

When the newly-weds were alone in their bedroom the girl asked her husband what had been the reason for his being late to the church. He told her the truth(there shouldn’t be any secrets between husband and wife, right?). The girl laughed heartily:”What a silly chatterbox! My father’s farm-hand was coming to me every night for three years and I never told a word to anybody! You are the first to know about it…”

You are a charming bird, my friend,

Chirruping in the morning glow,

Narrating tales till day would end.

Yet who you are I do not know.

I wish I could your feathers touch;

Your tuneful songs enchant my ear.

But you avoid my glances so much

And don't let me come too near.

I'll place my steps with perfect skill,

My restless mind would lead me on...

Alas, my efforts come to nil.

Incautious word - and you are gone...

Here's another verse about EC. Welcome, critics...

All you need is to load a pic;

Type your name, or much better a nick;

Don't forget to state you're a "he" or a "she",

And you're welcome to the wonderful world of EC !

This world is discussing all possible matter.

Take your chance of becoming a chatter -

Answering, questioning, guessing and mumbling,

Kidding, complaining, explaining and stumbling.

Never mind if your English is lame:

Most people are talking the same.

Come, don't be shy, let your fingers be quick,

All your problems are solved at a click!

There was once a site named EC                                                    

That worked under the rules of democracy.

Kings, students and teachers,

And lots of weird creatures

all chatting in one parlour you could see.