Darmowe konto pozwoli wrócić do niego później.

Outside the gate was a news-stand that sold British tabloids, featuring paparazzi photos of

supermodels, celebrities and the royal family, horoscopes and a wee bit of actual news. Their

top headline of the day was written on a chalkboard, and usually read something like ROYAL

COUPLE IN TROUBLE! or GAZZA TO TEAM: GIVE ME MILLIONS!

People scooped up these tabloids, devoured their gossip, and on previous trips to England, I had

always done the same. But now, with Morrie's illness at the back of my mind, whenever

I confronted anything silly or mindless, I kept picturing my friend in his tiny house with his

loved ones, while I spent so many hours on things that meant absolutely nothing to me

personally: movie stars, football players or the latest noise out of Prince Charles or Madonna.

Back home, the O.J. Simpson trial was in full swing, and there were people who surrendered

their entire lunch hour to follow it. I started to wonder why we bothered so much with the lives

of strangers.

One particularly crazy day in Wimbledon, a crush of reporters had tried to chase down Andre

Agassi and his famous girlfriend, Brooke Shields, and I had gotten knocked over by a British

reporter who barely muttered "Sorry" before sweeping past. I thought of something Morrie had

told me: "So many people walk around with meaningless lives. They seem half-asleep, even

when they are busy doing things they think are important. This is because they are chasing

the wrong things."

When I returned to Detroit, I arrived late in the afternoon, dragged myself home and went to

sleep. I awoke to a jolting piece of news: the unions at my newspaper had gone on strike. There

were picketers at the front entrance and marchers chanting up and down the street. As a member

of the union, I had no choice. I was suddenly out of a job, out of a paycheck, and pitted against

my employers. Union leaders called my home and warned me against any contact with my

former editors, many of whom were my friends. I was also told to hang up if they rang me up

and tried to plead their case. I felt confused and depressed. Although the TV and radio work

were nice supplements, the newspaper had been my lifeline, my oxygen. When I saw my stories

in print each morning, I knew that I was alive. Now it was gone. And as the strike continued,

there were phone calls and rumors that this could drag on. There were sporting events each

night that I would have gone to cover. Instead, I stayed home and watched them on TV. I had

grown used to thinking readers somehow needed my column, so I was stunned at how easily

things went on without me. Suddenly, I thought of Morrie again and decided to call him.

adapted from Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom

Text 2

MY EARLY RETIREMENT

The life expectancy of the average UK male is 74. Hearing about government plans to hike state

pensionable age, I realized that not much time might be left to enjoy the life of a pensioner.

That's why, last August, I decided to retire at the age of 33. I gave up my job as a journalist,

rented out my London flat and moved to the south-west of France with my girlfriend, who

heartily agreed with my plan. It was fear and a tinge of weariness that gave me the impulse to

do it. I worried that I was wasting the best years of my life blinking at a computer screen and

that when I did eventually pack up work, I would have hours to kill but no energy or strength

to make use of them. The solution seemed obvious, if a little risky: retire now and work later.

Many will think me foolhardy, as did some of my friends, not to mention bosses. But I want to

enjoy life in my prime. I have worked hard. I started as a journalist at 17. Early shifts, night

shifts, weekends, bank holidays and Christmases: check. And what was it all for? I got

halfway up the ladder and realized I was afraid of heights – or to be precise, of professional

responsibility and the attendant drudgery.

Some doubts I had obviously harboured were allayed when it transpired that with the income

from my London flat, a modest, stress-free life in France was a realistic possibility. Modest

being the operative word. In return, here we are in France, having spent the winter reading

books by the wood burner. A hectic life and economic blues have been swapped for country

walks and fireside chats. Stress has been reduced to wondering which route to take or whether

the fire will crackle into life.

There are risks, of course. I'm not as fortunate as some of my colleagues who can take on

a contract whenever they fancy, so work is not guaranteed when I decide to return to London.

And another question mark is about successful repatriation. If a job is found, how to

overcome the daily grind of self-doubt, to tolerate the early-morning starts and office politics

once more? Still, it'll surely be worth it for the sweltering Monday afternoons when I can sit by

the pool with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in hand, listening to the birds singing and

the rustle of leaves. Normally, I would be slumped at a desk most of the day, filling in papers,

listening to the hack and whirl of the coffee machine. Now honestly, which would you prefer?

adapted from www.independent.co.uk

4.1. When the narrator was heading towards the Wimbledon courts on his last visit

to London, he

A. browsed the tabloids to catch up with the latest gossip.

B. got intrigued by the headlines written on the chalkboard.

C. noticed some young people waiting to be allowed to watch the matches live.

D. feared he would have to witness unruly behaviour during the tournament.

4.2. While carrying out his Wimbledon assignment, the narrator

A. could not dismiss thoughts about Morrie.

B. had to find shelter from the photographers chasing him.

C. felt thrilled to meet so many celebrities.

D. was summoned by his editor to report the O.J. Simpson trial.

4.3. During the strike,

A. there was speculation it would be crushed in a matter of days.

B. the narrator realized how indispensable his column was for readers.

C. the narrator was approached by the union leaders to negotiate on their behalf.

D. pressure was exerted on the narrator not to get in touch with some of his acquaintances.

4.4. Based on the text, we can conclude that

A. Morrie compromised his values to assist the narrator.

B. Morrie was pulling strings to jeopardize the narrator's career.

C. Morrie's illness made the narrator reconsider his priorities in life.

D. the narrator learned from Morrie how to control other people's lives.

4.5. Look at the circles marked 1–4 in the text and decide where the following sentence

fits best in the passage.

The customary trappings of city life such as delights of cuisine or the enchantment of clubs

and theatres would have to be skipped.

A. In the space marked 1

B. In the space marked 2

C. In the space marked 3

D. In the space marked 4

4.6. The author's decision to retire and move to France

A. was openly questioned by his girlfriend.

B. was feasible thanks to a London property he owned.

C. resulted from serious health problems he had experienced.

D. was sparked by the prospect of being made redundant in the near future.

4.7. Which of the following is NOT mentioned by the author as a potential problem facing

him on returning to London?

A. snide remarks made by former colleagues

B. getting accustomed to mundane activities

C. insecurity about getting a job

D. lack of confidence