We are going to clean the house later.
Lewis and Ethan are going to watch a film at the weekend.
They are going to make a cake for Dad’s birthday.
Fred is not going to have a burger for lunch.
We are not going to drop litter in the park.
Cara and Harriet are not going to visit museum on Saturday.
1. The plane __leaves__in twenty minutes.
2. If you follow this diet, you_will lose_ some weight.
3. He _ is writing__a new book this summer.
4. I __met__Helen in the morning. (now it is evening)
5. We __have spoken__ to the Dean in the morning. (it is still morning)
6. He __was having__ breakfast when he heard a loud noise in the hall.
7. They _have been building__ this house since April and there is still much work to do.
8. He was late for the conference because he _had missed__ the 7 o'clock train.
9. I _will be waiting__for you at the restaurant at 6 tomorrow.
10. They _will have decorated__the room by the time you come home.
11. She _had been working__ at school for ten years before she met James.
12. Tom __will have been teaching___History for ten years by next month.
On Saturday I went to a very interesting film. Last time I went in for sports today, in the morning before school. Two years ago I bought a CD with a movie. Yesterday I watched an interesting show on TV. I never went to non-sporting matches.
Sleeping sofa- спальный диван
I hate it when my brother Charlie has to go away. My parents constantly try to explain to me how sick he is. That I am lucky for having a brain where all the chemicals flow properly to their destinations like undammed rivers. When I complain about how bored I am without a little brother to play with, they try to make me feel bad by pointing out that his boredom likely far surpasses mine, considering his confine to a dark room in an institution. I always beg for them to give him one last chance. Of course, they did at first. Charlie has been back home several times, each shorter in duration than the last. Every time without fail, it all starts again. The neighbourhood cats with gouged out eyes showing up in his toy chest, my dad's razors found dropped on the baby slide in the park across the street, mom's vitamins replaced by bits of dishwasher tablets. My parents are hesitant now, using "last chances" sparingly. They say his disorder makes him charming, makes it easy for him to fake normalcy, and to trick the doctors who care for him into thinking he is ready for rehabilitation. That I will just have to put up with my boredom if it means staying safe from him. I hate it when Charlie has to go away. It makes me have to pretend to be good until he is back.