Our two children, Ella and Milo, bilingual and sunburnished,frolicked with kittens in the safety of a large,walled garden, chasing enormous grasshoppers2 together,pouncing amongst the long parched3 grass and seams ofwheat, probably seeded from kernels4 spilled from trailerswhen the barns were part of a working farm. Our huge dog,Leon, lay across the threshold of vast, rusty5 gates, watchingover us with the benign6 vigilance of an animal bredspecifically for the purpose, panting happily in his work.
It was really beginning to feel like home. Our meagersixty-five square meters of central London had translatedinto twelve hundred square meters of rural southern France,albeit slightly less well-appointed and not so handy forMarks and Spencer, the South Bank, or the BritishMuseum. But it had a summer that lasted from March toNovember, and the locally made wine, which sold for ￡8 inTesco, a British market, cost three and a half euros atsource. Well, you had to take advantage of this—it was partof the local culture. Barbeques of fresh trout8 and saltysausages from the Cévennes to our north, glasses ofchilled rosé with ice that quickly melted in the heavysouthern European heat. It was idyllic9.
This perfect environment was achieved after about tenyears of wriggling10 into the position, professionally andfinancially, where I could just afford to live like a peasant ina derelict barn in a village full of other much morewholesome peasants earning a living through honestfarming. I was the mad Englishman; they were the slightlybemused French country folk—tolerant, kind, courteous,and yet, inevitably11, hugely judgmental.
Katherine, whom I’d married that April after nine yearstogether (I waited until she’d completely given up hope),became the darling of the village. Beautiful and thoughtful,polite, kind, and gracious, she made a real effort to engagewith and fit into village life. She actively12 learned thelanguage, which she’d already studied at Advanced Level,to become proficient13 in local colloquial14 French, as well asher Parisian French, and the bureau-speak French of the“adminheavy” state. She could josh with the art-galleryowner in the nearby town of Uzes about the exact tax formhe had to fill out to acquire a sculpture by Elisabeth Frink—whom she also happened to have once met andinterviewed—and complain with the best of the villagemums about the complexities15 of the French medicalsystem. My French, on the other hand, already at OrdinaryLevel grade D, probably made it to C while I was there, as Iactively tried to block my mind from learning it in case itsomehow further impeded16 the delivery of my already latebook. I went to bed just as the farmers got up, and rarelyinteracted unless to trouble them for some badly expressedelementary questions about DIY. They preferred her.
But this idyll was not achieved without some cost. Wehad to sell our cherished shoebox-size flat in London inorder to buy our two beautiful barns, totally derelict, withfloors of mud trampled17 with sheep dung. Without water orelectricity we couldn’t move in straight away, so in the weekwe exchanged contracts internationally, we also movedlocally within the village, from a rather lovely natural-stonesummer sublet18 that was about to triple in price as theseason began, to a far less desirable property on the mainroad through the village. This had no furniture and neitherdid we, having come to France nearly two years before withthe intention of staying for six months. It would be fair to saythat this was a stressful time.
So when Katherine started getting migraines and staringinto the middle distance instead of being her usual tornadoof office-keeping, packing, sorting, and labeling efficiency, Iput it down to stress. “Go to the doctor’s, or go to yourparents if you’re not going to be able to help,” I saidsympathetically. I should have known it was serious whenshe cut short a shopping trip (one of her favorite activities)to buy furniture for the children’s room, and we bothexperienced a frisson of anxiety when she slurred19 herwords in the car on the way back from that trip. But a fewphone calls to migraine-suffering friends assured us thatthis was well within the normal range of symptoms for thisoften stress-related phenomenon.
Eventually she went to the doctor and I waited at homefor her to return with some migraine-specific pain relief.
Instead I got a phone call to say that the doctor wanted herto go for a brain scan, immediately, that night. At this stageI still wasn’t particularly anxious, as the French arerenowned hypochondriacs. If you go to the surgery with arunny nose the doctor will prescribe a carrier bag full ofpharmaceuticals, usually involving suppositories. A brainscan seemed like a typical French overreaction;inconvenient, but it had to be done.
Katherine arranged for our friend Georgia to take her tothe local hospital about twenty miles away, and I settleddown again to wait for her to come back. And then I got thephone call no one ever expects. Georgia, sobbing20, tellingme it was serious. “They’ve found something,” she keptsaying. “You have to come down.” At first I thought it mustbe a bad joke, but the emotion in her voice was real.
In a daze21 I organized a neighbor to look after the childrenwhile I borrowed her unbelievably dilapidated Honda Civicand set off on the unfamiliar22 journey along the dark countryroads. With one headlight working, no third or reverse gear,and very poor brakes, I was conscious that it was possibleto crash and injure myself badly if I wasn’t careful. I overshotone turn and had to get out and push the car back down theroad, but I made it safely to the hospital and abandoned thedecrepit vehicle in the empty car park.
Inside I relieved a tearful Georgia and did my best toreassure a pale and shocked Katherine. I was still hopingthat there was some mistake, that there was a simpleexplanation that had been overlooked and would accountfor everything. But when I asked to see the scan, thereindeed was a golf-ball-size black lump nestling ominously23 inher left parietal lobe24. A long time ago I did a degree inpsychology, so the MRI images were not entirely25 alien tome, and my head reeled as I desperately26 tried to find someexplanation that could account for this anomaly. But therewasn’t one.
We spent the night at the hospital bucking27 up eachother’s morale28. In the morning a helicopter took Katherineto Montpellier, our local (and probably the best) neuro unitin France. After our cozy29 night together, the reality of seeingher airlifted as an emergency patient to a distantneurological ward30 hit home, hard. As I chased the copterdown the autoroute, the shock really began kicking in. Ifound my mind was ranging around, trying to get to gripswith the situation, so that I could barely make myselfconcentrate properly on driving. I slowed right down, andarrived an hour later at the car park of the enormous Gui deChaulliac hospital complex to find there were no spaces. Iended up parking creatively, French style, along a sliver31 ofcurb. A porter wagged a disapproving32 finger at me but Istrode past him, by now in an unstoppable frame of mind,desperate to find Katherine. If he’d tried to stop me at thatmoment I think I would have broken his arm and directedhim to X-ray. I was going to Neuro Urgence, fifth floor, andnothing was going to get in my way. It made me appreciatein that instant that you should never underestimate theemotional turmoil33 of people visiting hospitals. Normal rulesdid not apply, as my priorities were completely refocusedon finding Katherine and understanding what was going tohappen next. I found Katherine sitting up on a trolley34 bed,dressed in a yellow hospital gown, looking bewildered andconfused. She looked so vulnerable but noble, stoicallycooperating with whatever was asked of her. Eventually wewere told that an operation was scheduled in a few days’
time, during which high doses of steroids would reduce theinflammation around the tumor35 so that it could be taken outmore easily.
Watching her being wheeled around the corridors, sittingup in her backless gown, looking around with quiet,confused dignity, was probably the worst time. The logisticswere over, we were in the right place, the children werebeing taken care of, and now we had to wait for three daysand adjust to this new reality. I spent most of that time at thehospital with Katherine or on the phone in the lobbydropping the bombshell on friends and family. The phonecalls all took a similar shape: breezy disbelief, followed byshock and often tears. After three days I was an old hand,and guided people through their stages as I broke thenews.
Finally Friday arrived, and Katherine was prepared forthe operation. I was allowed to accompany her to a waitingarea outside the operating room. Typically French, it wasbeautiful, with sunlight streaming into a modern atriumplanted with trees whose red and brown leaves picked upthe light and shone like stained glass. There was not muchwe could say to each other, and I kissed her goodbye notreally knowing whether I would see her again, or if I did, howbadly she might be affected36 by the operation.
At the last minute I asked the surgeon if I could watch theprocedure. As a former health writer I had been inoperating rooms before, and I just wanted to understandexactly what was happening to her. Far from beingperplexed, the doctor, one of the best neurosurgeons inFrance, was delighted. I am reasonably convinced that hehad high-functioning Asperger’s syndrome37. For the first,and last, time in our conversation, he looked me in the eyeand smiled, as if to say, “So you like tumors too?” andexcitedly introduced me to his team. The anaesthetist wasmuch less impressed with the idea and looked visiblyalarmed, so I immediately backed out, as I didn’t wantanyone involved under performing for any reason. Thesurgeon’s shoulders slumped38 and he resumed hisunsmiling efficiency.
In fact the operation was a complete success, and when Ifound Katherine in the intensive care unit a few hours later,she was conscious and smiling. But the surgeon told meimmediately afterward39 that he hadn’t liked the look of thetissue he’d removed. “It will come back,” he warned. Bythen I was so relieved that she’d simply survived theoperation that I let this information sit at the back of myhead while I dealt with the aftermath of family,chemotherapy, and radiotherapy for Katherine.
Katherine received visitors, including the children, on theimmaculate lawns studded with palm and pine treesoutside her ward building—at first in a wheelchair, but thenperched on the grass in dappled sunshine, her headbandages wrapped in a muted silk scarf, looking asbeautiful and relaxed as ever, like the hostess of a rollingpicnic. Our good friends Phil and Karen were holidaying inBergerac, a seven-hour drive to the north, but they madethe trip down to see us and it was very emotional to see ourchildren playing with theirs as if nothing was happening inthese otherwise idyllic surroundings.
After we spent a few numbing40 days on the Internet, theinevitability of the tumor’s return was clear. The British andthe American Medical Associations, every global cancerresearch organization, and indeed every other organizationI contacted, had the same message for someone with adiagnosis of a grade 4 glioblastoma: “I’m so sorry.”
I trawled my health contacts for good news aboutKatherine’s condition that hadn’t yet made the literature, butthere wasn’t any. Median survival—the most statisticallyfrequent survival time— was nine to ten months fromdiagnosis. The average was slightly different, but 50percent survived one year, and 3 percent of peoplediagnosed with grade 4 tumors were alive after three years.
It wasn’t looking good. This was heavy information,particularly as Katherine was bouncing back so well fromher craniotomy to remove the tumor (given a rare 100percent excision41 rating), and the excellent French medicalsystem was fast-forwarding her on to its state-of-the-artradiotherapy and chemotherapy programs. The people whosurvived the longest with this condition were young, healthywomen with active minds—Katherine to a tee. And despitethe doom42 and gloom, there were several promisingavenues of research, which could possibly come onlinewithin the time frame of a recurrence43.
When Katherine came out of the hospital, it was to aTARDIS-like, empty house in an incredibly supportivevillage. Her parents and brothers and sister were there, andon her first day back there was a knock at the window. Itwas Pascal, our neighbor, who unceremoniously passedthrough the window a dining room table and six chairs,followed by a casserole dish with a hot meal in it. We triedto get back to normal, setting up an office in the dusty attic,working out the treatment regimens Katherine would haveto follow, and working on the book of my DIY columns,which Katherine was determined44 to continue designing.
Meanwhile, a hundred yards up the road were our barns, anopen-ended dream renovation45 project that could easilyoccupy us for the next decade, if we chose. All we lackedwas the small detail of the money to restore them, butfrankly at that time I was more concerned with givingKatherine the best possible quality of life, to make use ofwhat the medical profession assured me was likely to be ashort time. I tried not to believe it, and we lived month bymonth between MRI scans and blood tests, our confidencegrowing gingerly with each negative result.
Katherine was happiest working, and knowing thechildren were happy. With her brisk efficiency she set upher own office and began designing and pasting up layouts,color samples, and illustrations around it, one floor downfrom mine. She also ran our French affairs, took thechildren to school, and kept in touch with the stream of wellwisherswho contacted us and occasionally came to stay. Icarried on with my columns and researching my animalbook, which was often painfully slow over a rickety dial-upInternet connection held together with gaffer’s tape andsubject to the vagaries46 of France Telecom’s “service,”
which, with the largest corporate47 debt in Europe, madeBritish Telecom seem user-friendly and efficient.
The children loved the barns, and we resolved to inhabitthem in whatever way possible as soon as we could, so weset about investing the last of our savings48 in building asmall wooden chalet—still bigger than our former Londonflat—on the back of the capacious hangar. This was waybeyond my meager7 knowledge of DIY, and difficult for theamiable lunch-addicted French locals to understand, so wecalled for special help in the form of Karsan, an Anglo-Indian builder friend from London. Karsan is a jack-of-alltradesand master of them all as well. As soon as hearrived, he began pacing out the ground and demanded tobe taken to the lumber50 yard. Working for thirty solid daysstraight, Karsan erected51 a viable52 two-bedroom dwelling,complete with running water, a proper bathroom with aflushing toilet, and electricity, while I got in his way.
With some building-site experience and four years as awriter on DIY, I was sure Karsan would be impressed withmy wide knowledge, work ethic53, and broad selection oftools. But he wasn’t. “All your tools are unused,” heobserved.
“Well, lightly used,” I countered.
“If someone came to work for me with these tools I wouldsend them away,” he said. “I am working all alone. Is thereanyone in the village who can help me?” he complained.
“Er, I’m helping54 you, Karsan,” I said, and I was there everyday lifting wood, cutting things to order, and doing my bestto learn from this multiskilled whirlwind master builder.
Admittedly, I sometimes had to take a few hours in the dayto keep the plates in the air with my writing work—nationalnewspapers are extremely unsympathetic to delays insending copy, and excuses like “I had to borrow a cementmixer from Monsieur Roget and translate for Karsan at thebuilders’ supply” just don’t cut it, I found. “I’m all alone,”
Karsan continued to lament55, and so just before the monthwas out, I finally managed to persuade a local Frenchbuilder to help, and he, three-hour lunch breaks and othercommitments permitting, did work hard in the final fortnight.
Our glamorous56 friend Georgia, one of the circle of Englishmums we tapped into after we arrived, also helped a lot,and much impressed Karsan with her genuine knowledgeof plumbing57, high heels, and low-cut tops. They becamebest buddies58, and Karsan began talking of setting uplocally, “where you can drive like in India,” with Georgiaworking as administrative59 assistant and translator.
Somehow this idea was vetoed by Karsan’s wife.
When the wooden house was finished, the locals couldnot believe it. One even said, “Sacré bleu.” Some hadbeen working for years on their own houses on patches ofland around the village, which the new generation wasexpanding into. Rarely were any actually finished, however,apart from holiday homes commissioned by the Dutch,German, and English expats, who often used outside laboror micromanaged the local masons to within an inch of theirsanity until the job was actually done. This life/work balancewith the emphasis firmly on life was one of the mostenjoyable parts of living in the region, and perfectly60 suitedmy inner putterer, but it was also satisfying to show them acompleted project built in the English way, in back-to-backfourteen-hour days with a quick cheese sandwich and acup of tea for lunch. We bade a fond farewell to Karsan andmoved into our new home, in the back of a big open barnlooking out over another, in a walled garden where thechildren could play with their dog, Leon, and their cats insafety, and where the back wall was a full-grown adult’sFrisbee throw away. It was our first proper home sincebefore the children were born, and we relished61 the spaceand the chance to be working on our own house at last.
Everywhere the eye fell, there was a pressing amount to bedone, however, and over the next summer we clad thehouse with insulation62 and installed broadband Internet, andKatherine began her own vegetable garden, yieldingsucculent cherry tomatoes and raspberries. Figs63 droppedoff our neighbor’s tree into our garden, wild garlic grew inthe hedgerows around the vine-yards, and melons lay in thefields often uncollected, creating a seemingly endlesssupply of luscious64 local produce. Walking the sunbakeddusty paths with Leon every day, through the landscaperinging with cicadas, brought back childhood memories ofCorfu, where our family spent several summers. Twistedolive trees appeared in planted rows, rather than thehaphazard groves65 of Greece, but the lifestyle was thesame, although now I was a grown-up with a family of myown. It was surreal, given the back-drop of Katherine’sillness, that everything was so perfect just as it went sohorribly wrong.
We threw ourselves into enjoying life, and for me thismeant exploring the local wildlife with the children. Mostobviously different from the UK were the birds, brightlycolored and clearly used to spending more time in NorthAfrica than their dowdy66 UK counterparts, whose plumageseems more adapted to perpetual autumn than to the vividcolors of Marrakesh.
Twenty minutes away was the Camargue, whose ricepaddies and salt flats are warm enough to sustain a yearroundpopulation of flamingos67, but I was determined not toget interested in birds. I once went on a “nature tour” of Mullthat turned out to be a bird-watchers’ tour. Frolicking otterswere ignored in favor of surrounding a bush waiting forsomething called a redstart, an apparently68 unseasonalvisiting reddish sparrow. That way madness lies.
Far more compelling, and often unavoidable, was theinsect population, which hopped69, crawled, and reproducedall over the place. Crickets the size of mice sprang throughthe long grass entertaining the cats and the children, whocaught them for opposing reasons, the latter to try to feed,the former to eat. At night, exotic-looking and endangeredrhinoceros beetles71 lumbered72 across my path like littleprehistoric tanks, each one fiercely brandishing73 its utterlyuseless horns, resembling more a triceratops than therelatively svelte74 rhinoceros70. These entertaining beastswould stay with us for a few days, rattling75 around in a glassbowl containing soil, wood chips, and usually dandelionleaves, to see if we could mimic76 their natural habitat. Butthey did not make good pets, and invariably I releasedthem in the night to the safety of the vineyards. Othernighttime catches included big fat toads77, always releasedonto a raft in the river in what became a formalizedceremony after school, and a hedgehog carried betweentwo sticks and then housed in a tin bath and fed on worms,until his escape into the compound three days later. It wasonly then that I discovered these amiable49 but flea-riddenand stinking78 creatures can carry rabies. But perhaps themost dramatic catch was an unidentified snake, nearly ameter long, also transported using the stick method, andhoused overnight in a suspended bowl in the sitting room,lidded, with holes for air. “What do you think of the snake?” Iasked Katherine proudly the next morning. “What snake?”
she replied. The bowl was empty. The snake had crawledout through a hole and dropped to the floor right next towhere we were sleeping (on the sofa bed at that time)before sliding out under the door. I hoped. Katherine wasnot amused, and I resolved to be more careful about what Ibrought into the house.
Not all the local wildlife was harmless. Adders79, or lesvipères, are rife80, and the protocol81 was to call the firebrigade, or pompiers, who come and “dance around likelittle girls waving at it with sticks until it escapes,” accordingto Georgia, who has witnessed this procedure. I once sawa vipère under a stone in the garden, and wore thick glovesand gingerly tapped every stone I ever moved afterward.
Killer82 hornets also occasionally buzzed into our lives likemalevolent helicopter gunships, with the locals all agreeingthat three stings would kill a man. My increasingly wellthumbedanimal and insect encyclopedia83 revealed only thatthey were “potentially dangerous to humans.” Either way,whenever I saw one, I adopted the full pompier procedurediligently.
But the creature that made the biggest impression earlyon was the scorpion84. One appeared in my office on the wallone night, prompting levels of adrenaline and panic Ithought only possible in the jungle. Was nowhere safe?
How many of these things were there? Were they in thekids’ room now? An Internet trawl revealed that fifty-sevenpeople had been killed in Algeria by scorpions85 in theprevious decade. Algeria is a former French colony. It wasnearby. But luckily this scorpion—dark brown and the sizeof the end of a man’s thumb—was not the culprit, andactually had a sting more like a bee. This jolt86, that I wasdefinitely not in London and had brought my family to apotentially dangerous situation, prompted my first (and last)poem for about twenty years, unfortunately too expletiveriddento reproduce here.
And then there was the wild boar. Not to be outdone bymere insects, reptiles87, and arthropods, the mammalianorder laid on a special treat one night when I was walkingthe dog. Unusually, I was out for a run, a bit ahead of Leon,so I was surprised to see him up ahead about twenty-fivemeters into the vines. As I got closer, I was also surprisedthat he seemed jet-black in the moonlight, whereas when I’dlast seen him he was his usual tawny88 self. Also, althoughLeon is a hefty eight stone, or 112 pounds, of shaggymountain dog, this animal seemed heavier and morebarrel-shaped. And it was grunting89, like a great big pig. Ibegan to realize that this was not Leon, but a sanglier, orwild boar, known to roam the vineyards at night and able tomake a boar-shaped hole in a chain-link fence withoutslowing down. I was armed with a dog lead, a mechanicalpencil (in case of inspiration), and a lighted helmet, turnedoff. As it faced me and started stamping the ground, I felt Ihad to decide quickly whether or not to turn on theheadlamp. It would either definitely charge at it or it wouldfind it aversive. As the light snapped on, the gruntingmonster slowly wheeled around and trotted90 into the vines,more in irritation91 than fear. And then Leon arrived, late andinadequate cavalry92, and shot off into the vine-yards after it.
Normally Leon will chase imaginary rabbits relentlessly93 formany minutes at a time at the merest hint of a rustle94 in theundergrowth, but on this occasion he shot backimmediately, professing95 total ignorance of anything amiss,and stayed very close by my side on the way back. Verywise.
The next day I took the children to track the boar, andthey were wide-eyed as we found and photographed thetrotter prints in the loose gray earth, and had them verifiedby the salty farmers in the Café of the Universe in thevillage. “Il était gros,” they concluded, belly96 laughing andfilling the air with clouds of pastis when I mimicked97 my fear.
So, serpents included, this life was as much like Eden asI felt was possible. With the broadband finally installed, andbats flying around my makeshift office in the empty barn,the book I had come to write was finally seriously underway, and Katherine’s treatment and environment seemedas good as could reasonably be hoped for. What couldpossibly tempt98 us away from this hard-won, almostheavenly niche99? My family decided100 to buy a zoo, of course.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
guardian
|
|
| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
grasshoppers
|
|
| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
parched
|
|
| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
kernels
|
|
| 谷粒( kernel的名词复数 )； 仁； 核； 要点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
rusty
|
|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
benign
|
|
| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
meager
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
trout
|
|
| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
idyllic
|
|
| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
wriggling
|
|
| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
actively
|
|
| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
proficient
|
|
| adj.熟练的，精通的；n.能手，专家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
colloquial
|
|
| adj.口语的，会话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
complexities
|
|
| 复杂性(complexity的名词复数)； 复杂的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
impeded
|
|
| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
trampled
|
|
| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
sublet
|
|
| v.转租；分租 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
slurred
|
|
| 含糊地说出( slur的过去式和过去分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
daze
|
|
| v.(使)茫然，(使)发昏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
unfamiliar
|
|
| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
ominously
|
|
| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
lobe
|
|
| n.耳垂，（肺，肝等的）叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
desperately
|
|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
bucking
|
|
| v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的现在分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
morale
|
|
| n.道德准则，士气，斗志 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
cozy
|
|
| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
ward
|
|
| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
sliver
|
|
| n.裂片，细片，梳毛；v.纵切，切成长片，剖开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
disapproving
|
|
| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
turmoil
|
|
| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
trolley
|
|
| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
tumor
|
|
| n.（肿）瘤，肿块(英)tumour | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
syndrome
|
|
| n.综合病症；并存特性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
slumped
|
|
| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
numbing
|
|
| adj.使麻木的，使失去感觉的v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
excision
|
|
| n.删掉；除去 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
recurrence
|
|
| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
renovation
|
|
| n.革新，整修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
vagaries
|
|
| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
corporate
|
|
| adj.共同的，全体的；公司的，企业的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
savings
|
|
| n.存款，储蓄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
lumber
|
|
| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
ERECTED
|
|
| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
viable
|
|
| adj.可行的，切实可行的，能活下去的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
ethic
|
|
| n.道德标准，行为准则 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
lament
|
|
| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
glamorous
|
|
| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
plumbing
|
|
| n.水管装置；水暖工的工作；管道工程v.用铅锤测量（plumb的现在分词）；探究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
buddies
|
|
| n.密友( buddy的名词复数 )；同伴；弟兄；（用于称呼男子，常带怒气）家伙v.（如密友、战友、伙伴、弟兄般）交往( buddy的第三人称单数 )；做朋友；亲近（…）；伴护艾滋病人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
administrative
|
|
| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
relished
|
|
| v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
insulation
|
|
| n.隔离；绝缘；隔热 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
figs
|
|
| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
luscious
|
|
| adj.美味的；芬芳的；肉感的，引与性欲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
groves
|
|
| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
dowdy
|
|
| adj.不整洁的；过旧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
flamingos
|
|
| n.红鹳，火烈鸟（羽毛粉红、长颈的大涉禽）( flamingo的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
hopped
|
|
| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
rhinoceros
|
|
| n.犀牛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
beetles
|
|
| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
lumbered
|
|
| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
brandishing
|
|
| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
svelte
|
|
| adj.（女人）体态苗条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
rattling
|
|
| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
mimic
|
|
| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
toads
|
|
| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
stinking
|
|
| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
adders
|
|
| n.加法器，（欧洲产）蝰蛇（小毒蛇），（北美产无毒的）猪鼻蛇( adder的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
rife
|
|
| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
protocol
|
|
| n.议定书，草约，会谈记录，外交礼节 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
killer
|
|
| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
encyclopedia
|
|
| n.百科全书 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
scorpion
|
|
| n.蝎子，心黑的人，蝎子鞭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
scorpions
|
|
| n.蝎子( scorpion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
jolt
|
|
| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
reptiles
|
|
| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
tawny
|
|
| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
grunting
|
|
| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
cavalry
|
|
| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
relentlessly
|
|
| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
rustle
|
|
| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
professing
|
|
| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
belly
|
|
| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
mimicked
|
|
| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的过去式和过去分词 )；酷似 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
tempt
|
|
| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
niche
|
|
| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |