Short paragraphs full of words whose spelling and pronunciation don’t play fair. Read them aloud and enjoy the traps.

A1

On Wednesday my friend Ana and I walk to school. “What do you want to eat?” she said. “One apple and some bread,” I said. We talk about our busy week. Every evening we write, listen to music and watch two films. I love Wednesday nights.

Who is in the kitchen? My mum. People come and she gives them water and cake. One woman eats eight small cakes. “Some more?” my mum asks. “Please! I know a good cook when I see one,” the woman says. Her eyes are happy. Done — the plates are clean.

A2

My cousin studies business in the city library. From February to December she never answers the phone. “The answer is always in a book,” she says. Yesterday she bought fruit and juice, and ate them on the island beach. A bird took one biscuit — she laughed; she was not angry.

My neighbour has a small restaurant. His daughter helps him after four. The menu has fish, vegetables and chocolate cake, and the room is always calm. At the end of the day, he counts his money and smiles. “The secret?” he says. “Good food, a quiet room, and family.”

B1

Although the journey through the mountains was long, my colleague trusted the young guide. He had a headache and a bad cough, but he climbed on with his guitar on his back. At the top he combed his hair and played two songs on his guitar. His stomach was empty, but his heart was light.

My favourite film character is a chef. He is honest — he never lies about the food. He learned his trade abroad, in a foreign kitchen, cooking on one old iron pan, and though his English was poor, everyone understood him. “A recipe has no secrets,” he says. “You only need two things: time and an honest tongue.”

B2

On a warm Wednesday, a retired colonel boarded his lavish yacht near a remote island to escape a severe drought. Despite his wealthy bourgeois business background, he hired a personal chauffeur who arrived with a fresh bouquet of flowers for the two women singing in the local choir.

The colonel had a mischievous scheme to bury a hidden cache of gold and settle an old debt. Though he had no doubt it might cause temporary chaos, he walked down the aisle of the galley to gauge the subtle flavors of a vegetable recipe while resting on a comfortable sofa.

To conduct a thorough study on animal psychology, he kept a tamed leopard on board. Navigating through rough and tough waters, the echo of music from a forgotten film genre drifted over the ocean debris. In the end, the sovereign ruler of the boat handed his guests a formal receipt, maintaining his place at the top of the ship’s strict hierarchy while everyone else waited patiently in a queue.

After three months in the hot desert, all she wanted was salmon and two desserts. At the restaurant she took off her dusty clothes, put a fresh handkerchief in her pocket, and smiled at the waiter: “Dessert — twice. I’ve seen enough sand.”

At the party, a man with a grey moustache drank champagne, hummed a rhythm with no rhyme, and told a ghost story so good that everyone checked the dark corners of the room. Ghosts, he said, love old houses — creaky floors and chimneys that whisper at night.

C1

The detective’s conscience was clear: the knots on the rope, the wrinkles in the story, and a witness with pneumonia who had watched everything from her window above the quay. It was an epoch of quiet crimes, and the chorus of taxi drivers outside told her the rest.

At the ambassador’s ballet, etiquette was strict: no suede shoes, no cherry liqueur, no phones. The young lieutenant ignored every rule, drank two glasses, and told a story about the bureau that lost his paperwork. By midnight his charm had won over the whole table — except the architect, who never forgave the suede shoes.