Alshina Yulia, Zubakin Alexey, Kudryavtseva Vera, Ivanovskaya Lilia and other students of the 2nd grade

The presentation is made up of fairy tales about school supplies invented by students of the 2nd grade of GOU SOSH No. 425 in Moscow

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We compose fairy tales We compose fairy tales about school supplies and other subjects (2nd grade)

School supplies We compose fairy tales about ...

The Tale of the Pencil and the Pen (composed by Vera Kudryavtseva) Once upon a time there were Pencil and Pen. They lived in a pencil case. Every day they went out to work in school notebooks. Pen will come out - will write. Then the Pencil will pop up: it will emphasize what needs to be emphasized, somewhere it will highlight something (an ending or a root, for example). Where the Pen fails, Pencil comes to the rescue. Where it is difficult for a Pencil - The Pen is right there. So they lived - they were friends. Once there was a trouble with Pencil: the lead broke. Poor Handle one! She ran to the Sharpener. "Help, please, Pencil's lead is broken!" - asks the Pen. The sharpener helped, sharpened the Pencil. The pencil gleamed, Pencil was delighted. And Pen and Pencil became even better to work in notebooks. Thanks to Sharpener!

Who is more important? (composed by Ilya Melekhov) Once upon a time, they were in Sasha's pencil case: Ruler and Compasses. Once they quarreled. Which one is more important? The compass says: "You can't draw a circle without me!" "And you can't draw a straight line without me!" - the Ruler shouts. They make noise, argue. At this time, Sasha came and took a compass. The compass was delighted: “You see, Ruler, the boy chose me! I am more important! " Sasha drew a circle with a compass and took a ruler. He drew segments to the circle and appeared on a piece of paper ... the sun! Then both the Compass and the Ruler understood that they were equally important for the boy Sasha. Since then, they have not fought anymore.

About school subjects (composed by Alshina Yulia) There lived an Eraser, Paper and two Pencils. One pencil was Red and the other was Green. Once Red Pencil said to Paper: "Paper, can I draw on you?" Green Pencil heard this conversation and also decided to ask the Paper to draw on it. The paper was kind and allowed the Pencils to draw on it. And they began to draw with Pencils. But Green Pencil was not good at it. The pencils began to swear. Eraser stopped their quarrel. The eraser said, “Don't swear. I will erase your bad drawings without any problems. " And the Pencils stopped quarreling, because if something didn't work out for them, the Eraser came to their rescue.

Dispute. (composed by Ivan Ponomarev) Pen, Pencil, Eraser and Sharpener lived in the pencil case. Once the Pen said: "I am the most important, because they always write to me." "No, I am," said Pencil, "I am the most important, because they emphasize everything with me." “And I can wash everything,” said the Eraser. And the Sharpener said: "I am also in charge, because I sharpen pencils." "Do not quarrel, - said Pencil - you all need to study!"

About the girl Dasha and ... (composed by Ivanovskaya Lilia) The girl Dasha lived in the same house. Dasha had a portfolio (she already went to grade 1). Once Dasha came from school, did her homework, played and went to bed. And from the briefcase came a thin voice. It was the Eraser. He did not sleep: he was tormented by insomnia. He squeaked to the whole room: “I am in charge. Hear all of me! " Then Pencil woke up and said: “Sleep. You are not in charge here. You erase everything and thus spoil everything. " The other residents of the portfolio also woke up from screaming. They, too, intervened in the dispute. This went on for several days. And on one of these nights, Dasha woke up. She opened the briefcase and ... “Oh! - Dasha said in surprise - all objects talk. " Dasha listened to their argument and said: “Don't argue. I need you all! It will be difficult for me to do without each of you. "

The Magic Hand (composed by Alexey Zubakin) The boy Sasha studied at a Moscow school. He was very fond of playing, walking, watching TV, but did not like to do homework. Once, on the way to school, Sasha found a strange Pen, which suddenly spoke up: “Let's be friends with you. I will do lessons for you for only A's, but you shouldn't have any friends except me. " Sasha agreed. All day his friends called him and invited him to the hill, to the skating rink, to play chess. And the Pen hissed: "You have forgotten our agreement, do not go!" She did all the lessons for Sasha beautifully and without mistakes, but for some reason Sasha was not having fun. The next day, he put the Pen where he found it. “I will study myself, without you,” the boy decided.

A fairy tale about school supplies (composed by Polina Lebedeva) Once upon a time, there were school supplies. Once, getting ready for school, they began to check: are they all in place? Pens and pencils in place, notebooks and textbooks in place, ruler and pencil case in place. And suddenly it turned out that there was no eraser. The accessories began to look for him in the briefcase. In this corner - no, in this one, too. And then the ruler suggested that he might have stayed on the desk. Yesterday the girl studied her homework and took it. The briefcase was on a chair near the table. The ruler lay between the briefcase and the table like a bridge. She said: "Pen, go over me on the table and see, maybe the eraser is there?" The pen moved along it to the table on the table and began to look for an eraser. She saw an eraser on the other end of the table. He lay crushed by a computer disk. The handle ran up and tried to lift the disc. But it was heavy. Then she called for help from the others. School supplies ran up and all together easily released the eraser. The entire satisfied company returned to the portfolio.

About the boy Kostya and ... (composed by Liza Sudakova) Once upon a time there was a boy. His name was Kostya. Kostya was a bad boy. he broke everything: he broke pens, pencils, and he simply broke erasers into several parts. He did as he wanted. He did not obey anyone and did not love anything. And then one night an unusual rain fell - starry, magical. We all know that when the stars fall, you have to make a wish. And Kostya made a wish: "I want to be small!" In the morning he woke up, and it turned out that his desire was fulfilled. He became small: as tall as a finger. Kostya decided to see what was going on in his pencil case. I opened it and saw: A handle with a broken arm; A pencil with a broken leg; Eraser with a broken back. They all cried bitterly. They saw Kostya and shouted: “Go away, you evil, worthless boy. Do not come near us, otherwise we will beat you. " For the first time in his life, Kostya was frightened and wept bitterly. He began to cry and ... a miracle happened: he became big again, like all the other boys. But since then, he no longer breaks pencils, pens, or any other objects.

Magic Pencil Case (composed by Ali Chergesbiev) A beautiful pencil case was bought for the boy for school. It contained everything a student needs: blue and colored pens, a simple pencil, an eraser, a ruler, a square, scissors and glue. But this pencil case turned out to be magical. You will ask why? Because as soon as the boy got an A, the inhabitants of the Penal began to argue. The Blue Pen declares to everyone that she writes beautifully, which means she is the most important. And the Green Hand answered her: "No, I am, because I highlight all the dangerous places - spelling." The eraser argues with everyone: "And I can erase any mistake!" And the Square and the Ruler declare that without them the boy would not have received excellent mark mathematics. Scissors and Clay also keep up with: "Without us, you can't glue anything and cut it out in labor lessons." What do you think: which of them is most needed?

Katya pencil case (composed by Ismailova Maryam) Once upon a time there was a girl named Katya. She was an excellent student. Katya did everything on time: she walked, played, studied her homework, packed her portfolio and went to bed. One day she had a dream: all the inhabitants of the portfolio came to life and began an argument. Who is the most important among them? Argued Pencils, Pens, Eraser, Sharpener, Compass and Ruler. Everyone argued that Katya was an excellent student only because of him. The girl came to school and it turned out that in her pencil case there was no pencil, then pens, then rulers ... Katya began to receive bad marks. She cried every day and did not understand why this was happening. And all the inhabitants of the pencil case finally realized that Katya needed all of them. They didn’t run away from the pencil case anymore. It's good that it was a dream. Katya woke up and ran to see if everything in her pencil case was in place? All accessories were in place. The satisfied girl ran to school.

About the girl Galya and ... (composed by Vika Mazikina) Once upon a time there was a girl. Her name was Galya. She already went to school and studied with only A's. Everyone praised her. And then one day, when Galya went for a walk, the following happened .. The briefcase suddenly opened and first a Pen came out of it, then a Pencil, followed by an Eraser and a Felt-Pen. "Let's go travel!" they decided. But the old Briefcase tells them: "Don't, it's very dangerous!" But the friends did not obey and went under the bed. Galya came from a walk, undressed and ... suddenly she climbed onto the bed and began to jump on it. And Pen, Pencil, Eraser and Felt-tip were sitting under the bed and did not know what to do. They were very scared. The pen said, "Why didn't we obey Portfolio?" They really wanted to go back. Galya jumped a little (she did this only when no one was at home) and went to the kitchen. And the school supplies returned to their home (in the portfolio). Since then, they have always listened to adults.

Night dispute. (composed by Nikita Blinov) One night, school supplies were sitting at the table and drinking tea. They argued. Which of them is more necessary for a student? Pen was the first to enter into an argument. “I am the most needed,” she said confidently. “Without me, the schoolchildren would not have been able to write a dictation, a text ...” “And I am doing a special job ...” - said Pencil. “But if the kids make a mistake using you, it will be hard to fix it without me,” said the Eraser. Here the textbooks got into an argument. The argument went on for an hour. The pencil case could not stand it and said: “Do not argue, you can argue all your life, and there will be no sense from it. None of you can be better than the other. Each of us is needed in our own way. "

Dishes, toys and other items We compose fairy tales about ...

The Tale of the Teapot and the Cup (composed by Dzyubenko Diana) Once upon a time there was a Teapot. It was an old china one. Scale has firmly eaten into its walls, and the blue flowers on the sides have faded from time to time and charred over the fire. When tea was brewed in him, he grumbled and spat boiling water. He always disliked something. And the Cup lived nearby. Plain, with a gold rim and flowers on the sides. The teacup was the teapot's favorite student. In the evenings, the Lady came to them. She sat down and the three of them drank freshly brewed tea. Every now and then, dripping onto the tablecloth, the teapot was telling the Cup something about the old days or just about life. Teacup loved the already ugly old Teapot and listened to his stories with fascination. But one day, when the Cup was standing on the windowsill, a gust of wind opened the window ... The Cup, with a plaintive cry, fell down and broke. That same evening, grieving over the Cup, the Kettle cracked on the stove. He had to be thrown away, like the Cup. The lady was crying bitterly. It turns out that the dishes know how to be friends.

A fairy tale about toys (composed by Ivanovskaya Lilia) One girl lived - had: a soldier, a doll Marina and a rubber rabbit. One day the girl forgot to put her toys away. At night, when everyone was asleep, the cat Vaska came running and wanted to grab the doll ... But the rabbit with its strong teeth grabbed Vaska by the tail, and the soldier began to beat the cat in the paws with his wooden gun. Marina was able to escape and hide on the top shelf. Since then, Vaska the cat has not tried to “play” with the doll, because she has such defenders.

Cool! 10

Everyone has a favorite thing. But what is “favorite thing”? This is something that is very dear to a person. For everyone, this thing may be different. Someone might say that his favorite thing is a teddy bear given by someone close. Another will say that his favorite thing is a book that left a positive impression on him. But the main thing is that this most beloved thing carries in itself. After all, an object received from a person who is important to you, keeping in itself the memory of something close to your heart, is more valuable than gold and silver.

My favorite thing is an old coin that my grandmother gave me. Perhaps someone will say that this is stupid. After all, you cannot play with a coin like a plush toy. But for me this coin is dearer than any treasure of the white light. She keeps in herself my happy memories of having fun. It reminds me of how my friends and I played and had fun. This coin has helped us more than once to make sometimes small, and sometimes very important decisions for us.

One day my coin fell out of my pocket. When my friends and I noticed this, we all went in search of her. We searched for a very long time, and everyone was very worried. After all, the grandmother's gift became a member of our friendly group. After an hour of long searches, we still found it. Everyone was very happy that we were still able to find our comrade, who helped us out more than once in difficult times. After that day, it became clear that I had the best and faithful friends... They didn’t leave me. Therefore, this coin has become a symbol of our friendship.

Some might say that my favorite thing is memories or friends. But this is not at all the case. It is that very old scratched coin that is dear to me the most. After all, it was in her that everything that was most dear to me united. This coin united the memories of my dear beloved grandmother, friendship with my friends, my separate world, in which life seems to stop, and I can relive the happiest periods of my life.

Even more essays on the topic: "My favorite thing":

A thing can become loved and important if it is useful, if it was presented by an important person for you, or if pleasant memories are associated with it. It can be anything from a book to a car. What matters is what memories and emotions are associated with her. Each person has things that are dear to him, that he loves.

I also have a favorite thing - a bicycle. You might think it is new and shiny, which is why I love and treasure it so much. This is not entirely true. I really love to ride a bike, and one day my grandfather suggested that I collect a bike for me. I was very happy and immediately agreed. He and I put together my bike in the garage for two weeks. It was a long and painstaking job. My grandfather had some of the parts, I had to look for and buy something in addition. I generally exchanged the chain with a neighbor for Tetris.

As a result, we have a great fast bike. We painted it matte black and named it "Whirlwind". On the same day, my grandfather and I went for a drive on the field: he on his, and I on mine. It was very funny. We raced in a race, drove down the mountain. True, at the end I turned unsuccessfully and fell, but not a scratch remained on the Vortex, we made it conscientiously.

Since then, I only ride on it, and in winter I carefully store it in the garage next to my father's car. It is very dear to me and not only as a transport. I put part of my soul into it, it is exactly the way I like it and, in addition, my grandfather and I became very close while doing it. He showed me that nothing is impossible, if you really want something - do it. I will remember this lesson forever.

Dad even offered me to buy at New Year another bike, with a gear change, but I refused. There is no great whirlwind better than my. He gave me many pleasant moments, how can I refuse him? Well, then, the Whirlwind is in excellent condition, I am following it. Grandpa is gone, and the bike reminds me of the times when we were together.

Source sdam-na5.ru

Brief announcement: each person has a favorite thing and it takes a certain place in his life. My favorite thing is my tablet.

The entire space in which a person lives is filled with things, be it a house, school, hospital, but everywhere! There are household things, such as furniture, computers, televisions, without which we can no longer imagine life in the modern world - they make our life more comfortable. And there are personal things that each of us has in our wardrobe. And among these things there are favorite things that we often wear, and unloved, which we wear very rarely, and that is because my mother insisted.

I have a lot of favorite things, this is pajamas with Spider-Man - how sweet it is to sleep in it and what cool dreams I have in it, and my favorite backpack - what has not been in it, and even my favorite toy from childhood - my hare with ears so long and soft, but my favorite thing is my tablet. For a long time I asked my parents to buy me a tablet and finally this year on my birthday my dream has come true! He's so cool, I never dreamed of such a thing! I even gave him the name "Goodwin" after the wizard from the emerald city.

Now all my friends, and I must admit, too, spend a lot of time at computers, laptops, tablets and phones. And every free minute at home we run to the screen of a computer or tablet, at recess at school we are all on our phones. My parents always scold me for spending a lot of time on my tablet! They say that in their childhood they spent a lot of time on the street, played football, basketball, catch-up, and I sit at home and communicate on the Internet. But times have changed! In the modern world, it is simply impossible without a computer or tablet! With the advent of the tablet, my life has changed dramatically. I turn it on, go to the Internet and can travel all over the world, I can find out a lot of information about what interests me. I also listen to my favorite music on my tablet, watch interesting films, play games. I communicate on Skype with my friends and now it is not necessary to run to a friend to find out homework... You can, of course, call, but we can see each other on Skype. And what awesome photos you can take with my tablet!

Recently I downloaded a program for processing photos from the Internet and with its help you can make different designs. It turns out such beauty: some photos look like you are looking through water, others look like old black-and-white photos, others look like they were drawn with a simple pencil, and some look like graffiti. But I haven't even had time to try everything yet. Every day I am surprised how much new I learn and all thanks to him - my tablet.

My tablet is always with me, we just do not spill water with it! One day I went to visit a friend of mine who lives two blocks from me. We played so much that I was in a hurry to go home and then it turned out that I had forgotten my tablet with him. I was very worried, could not fall asleep for a long time, and from the very morning I was already rushing to my friend for my "Goodwin"! A tablet is not just a favorite thing, it is my friend and helper!

Almost everyone has a favorite and dear thing. For example, a medal that recalls pleasant moments in life, such as winning a sports competition or dance competition. Someone's favorite thing is a laptop that allows you to learn a lot of new things, but someone's, it's just fashion sneakers pleasing with convenience and beauty.

For me, the most favorite thing was an art set of felt-tip pens and an album. Many people think that these are too simple and uninteresting things, but it seems to me that there is nothing more interesting and exciting than drawing lessons. And even though I am not drawing very well, this is not an obstacle for me, because with the help of colored markers you can draw whatever you want.

So why exactly has the drawing kit become my favorite thing? Because with a felt-tip pen in hand it is very convenient to dream, invent something and fantasize. Even when you're sad, you can boost your mood by putting your thoughts on paper.

How many times I have been rescued and entertained by the art set! And on a boring trip when there is nothing else to do, and during a long wait.

While painting, I feel like a real creator. Each book I read is then necessarily supplemented with illustrations drawn by my favorite felt-tip pens. I like to paint images of heroes, the way only I see them. It is especially interesting to draw fantastic stories, legends and fairy tales. In this case, for my favorite set comes a real expanse, because in these books there is a huge number of characters and plots that no one has seen and they can be drawn as they please. It is incredibly interesting to come up with how many legs and what color tails the inhabitants of another planet from the book I just read will have.

I also like to draw events that will certainly happen to me. For example, when I'm cold and uncomfortable in winter, I bring my favorite set of markers. And now I am already surrounded summer warmth, painting the distant turquoise sea, the blinding sun, hot sand and of course myself, sailing towards the boat in the distance.

And it so happens that I am invited to the circus or to the premiere of an excellent film. After such an event, being impressed, I come home and draw trained animals, acrobats or the continuation of an interesting film.

After the opportunities that a regular box of felt-tip pens gives me, shouldn't this be my favorite thing? For me, this thing is like another way of communicating or transmitting information. Almost like a speech or a letter.

In addition, I am attracted by the brightness and richness with which felt-tip pens draw. The pictures I have invented come to life, you just have to paint them in different colors. I also have favorite colors that I use more often than others. I really love all shades of blue and purple, that's why fantastic trolls from other worlds, as a rule, turn out to be purple or blue.

In general, my favorite thing is not just any object. For me, this is a whole world full of different ideas, fantasies and vivid impressions.

Each person has some favorite thing, the so-called "material piece of the soul." For children, this is almost always a toy. For adults and older children, it can be anything: from a souvenir brought from the coast of Sochi to a photograph of a loved one ...

In general, many people have tried to explain to themselves why they need their favorite thing, even if it is not of any use.

For example, my own cousin Vika does not part with a small figure of Cheburashka. This same Cheburashka always hangs on her keys, that is, he is an ordinary keychain. And it has been hanging for more than 17 years ... I wonder why? “It turns out that such a thing serves as a kind of talisman for a person, even if he himself does not know it,” scientists say. She reminds of something close, that a person really likes, that is why she is so loved by them. In fact, I also have such an item ...

This is an Intel i5 processor. Funny, isn't it? He came to me after my computer just burned out this processor. It was then that I noticed him - such a tiny microcircuit, closed in a beautiful metallic silver case, but so important and "smart". I immediately put it in my pocket - it still does not work and outwardly no damage is visible.

For me, he is a symbol of achievement. modern technologies, a symbol of the future, and the main thing - a computer, because who does not love this car, which combines so many devices for work and entertainment. In addition, for some reason he reminds me of home, and home, as they say, is the most important place on Earth. And he "helps" me morally in difficult times.

So I carry this processor everywhere with me, even now, when I write this essay, it is in my pants pocket. It's funny, of course, but I'm not alone in this, so the conclusion is this: a favorite thing, whatever it is, is the most important thing in the life of any person.

One day I was walking down the street. Suddenly it started to rain heavily. I decided to hide from the rain and went through the first open door. Imagine my surprise when to the left of the entrance I saw a sign - the store "Everything for happiness".

What people didn’t buy in it! Happy hours, kind words, happy tickets, smiles, understanding, care ...

I also decided to make a purchase at this amazing store. At first, the sweets caught my attention. In this store, they looked so attractive that I wanted to eat them right there, on the spot.

But then my gaze settled on a happy pillow, which itself knew how to tell fairy tales and give cozy dreams. I so wanted to buy this pillow! I thought that in the evening, putting my head on this pillow, I would forget about all the problems, and I would become happy as a baby.

But I ended up buying a completely different item. It was a small coin, sparkling in the sun, either gilded or silvered. I put a coin in my pocket and went home. On the way, I checked the coin all the time, squeezed it in my fist. The realization that the coin was in my pocket made me smile all the time. I was happy. Why? Until I knew it ...

But soon everything became clear.

Mom and Dad have planned a trip to the sea. I love the sea, radiant, light, inviting. Less than a few days later we found ourselves on the sea coast. Of course, I took a coin from the "Everything for Happiness" store with me. The rest was a success! Before leaving, I threw a lucky coin into the sea. To return to it again, boundless and happy. So that's what I needed this coin for!

... I bought a small coin in the "Everything for Happiness" store. And she made me happy! There is such a sign - if you throw a coin into the sea, you will definitely come back to it again.

This is the story that happened with the thing that I bought in the "Everything for Happiness" store.

At some stage, an ordinary object can turn into a magical one. What is needed for this? Sometimes this requires an important meeting. And this meeting once happened ...

Fairy tale "The Magic Pen"

Once upon a time there was an ordinary ballpoint pen. And she had a dream - she wanted to become magical. But how ordinary pens turn into magic ones, she did not know. And then one day the boy Kolya, who wore this pen to school, accidentally lost it. The poor pen had to go through a lot. She was wet in the rain, lay in the mud for a long time, but did not despair. The pen believed in a happy future. And finally, an unknown passer-by raised her. He turned out to be a storyteller. After a while, the pen got into the storyteller's house. Once, the storyteller invited the pen to go to a magical land. Since then, the pen has written about the Sun, about the stars, about distant galaxies, and how little boy Kolya, when he grows up, will make a magical flight to a distant planet ... magic power handle. She became fabulously magical and wrote about everything herself.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale

What is the subject of the tale?

What did the ballpoint pen dream about?

How did the pen end up on the street?

With whom did this significant meeting for the pen take place?

Did the pen manage to become magic?

What did the magic pen write about?

the main idea the tale lies in the fact that if you strongly desire something, then it is quite possible that it will come true.

What proverbs fit a fairy tale?

Happy is he who has a dream.
Life without dreams is like a bird without wings.

Whether it's a brooch, a book, a wardrobe ... We are waiting for family stories about things that are dear to you and your family, without which a home is unthinkable. Or - about things given by loved ones, which are more for you than inanimate object.

The Story of One Thing is a competition that anyone can take part in.

Conditions:It is necessary to send interesting story about your favorite things. Whether it's a brooch, a book, a wardrobe. We are waiting for family stories about things that are dear to you and your family, without which a home is unthinkable. Or - about things given by loved ones, which are more than an inanimate object for you. Tell stories about living items from home collections. Send your story to the editorial office of Fontanka through the competition form below. Attach a photo. Don't forget to include your coordinates.

Outcomes: The results of the competition will be announced on March 15. And the BODUM company, whose porcelain is kept by the world design museums, presents a gift to three authors. Prizes from the BODUM brand: coffee grinder, electric kettle, teapot. Since 1944, the brand has been producing tableware. For more than sixty years of its history, it has created many things that have become legendary. The famous Osiris teapot is in the MoMA Museum, and the French press BODUM coffee pot has become a visual synonym for Parisian coffee houses.

Yulia Arkadyevna Paramonova, St. Petersburg

Silver coin

I have a silver coin in my family, which, according to legend, was presented to my great-grandmother by Nicholas II. She was a very little girl, it was at the very end of the 19th century. Nicholas was not yet emperor and traveled the world. With him is a servant, and among them are my great-great-grandfather and his young wife, my great-great-grandmother. She cooked, great-great-grandfather was a batman. In general, in the middle of the trip, they found out that they would have a child. And so, it happened so that I had to give birth in Bombay! They were very worried, a foreign country, incomprehensible orders, everything unknown. The great-grandmother was born, thank God, without difficulties. Everything was fine. And it so happened that somehow Nikolai saw my great-great-grandmother with her great-grandmother in her arms. And he gave me a coin. It was immediately decided not to spend it on anything, but to keep it. It became a great-grandmother's talisman, and then a relic of the whole family. With Nicholas then they still visited Egypt and Siam - that was such an interesting life.

Irina:

"Chicken God"

Lyudmila Vostretsova.

Dear table

About ten years ago, I moved an old table from my parents. It expands and can gather around twenty people. The top tabletop is cracked along its entire length, but assembled by a skilled craftsman, the table still serves with dignity.
I well remember his ceremonial entry into the parental home in the early 1950s. The appearance of the table opened a procession of new furniture: a huge sideboard, a voluminous wardrobe, a flirty mirror in a wide frame, towering over the dressing table and a small bookcase on the nightstand. Chairs with straight backs were the last to be brought in (at that time the word ergonomics was not in the vocabulary of our family, and straight backs of chairs did not bend carefully, supporting the lower back).
Residents of capital cities are likely to find it difficult to assess such an event. We lived then in a small Siberian mining town. I don't remember the furniture stores at all. Commission trading did not exist either. After graduating from the institute, my father got a teaching position at a mining technical school. In our first dwelling - a room in wooden house- the main place was occupied by the grandmother's chest (it is still alive to this day). Then a wardrobe and a chest of drawers appeared in a small apartment, and, finally, a two-story house was built for the teachers next to the technical school, in which we had a three-room apartment. This is where the furniture was needed.
A craftsman was found who created our wonderful set for us. He made it from Siberian cedar, so until now not a single pest has left a single trace of damage on the tree. The sanded surfaces are tinted, probably stained and varnished (still preserved), so they acquired a noble mahogany look. It was a "gorgeous" purchase.
Our family lifestyle today would be called an “open house”. Neighbor colleagues constantly sat at our table. Then my numerous classmates, too, began to gather around him, then the friends of the younger sisters joined them. When the family decided that it would be more convenient to gather friends at a round table, our hospitable and already somewhat old man moved to the "nursery", where we did our homework. For this purpose, it also turned out to be surprisingly convenient: the legs of the table are fixed not only under the table top, but also below - with a spacer, just at the height where it was convenient to put the legs.
It is very comfortable to sit at this table even today. He, of course, has grown old. In addition to deep wrinkles-cracks, he also has bald patches on the varnish surface. Today he substitutes his expandable wings not under plates and salad bowls, but under piles of books; in the center - patiently holding a computer. In the marketplace - the vanity fair - hardly anyone will pay attention to it. But it's comfortable for me to work at this table. All my relatives, both living and departed, are next to me.

Daria Selyakova.

My house

As strange as it may seem, I do not yet have a favorite thing in my house. I just love my home. But this did not happen immediately. I did not immediately fall in love with my house. I moved into an apartment where other people lived and lived for two years, rubbing in and getting used to the new space. I never got used to it, especially when I found the ubiquitous gypsum under the wallpaper. Then my confidence in the strength of my house literally shattered. I knew that the house was built in 1900, and only this instilled in me the confidence that there should be at least some human materials under the gypsum plasterboard. At night, i.e. coming home late from work, I picked out this very plasterboard piece by piece, and started from the door. Amazing things began to emerge: the doorways turned out to be huge, as if specially for double doors (how romantic). Then plaster fell like a hail of stones, shingles broke off, and finally a real wall was exposed - a palisade of a thick plank with cracks and holes from knots. Yes, and the cracks were filled with ordinary tow, like hay. And I felt somehow calm. I realized that I have walls, those that "help", and this is MY home. And I began to "build" it according to my own principles: the windows that I ordered are wooden and very strong - these are my favorite windows; doors (5 of them - 2 of them - double-leaf, 1 glass), with a reminder of the former beauty and skill of joinery. And these are MY favorite doors. There is a roof over your head, thank God, although the ceiling requires serious repair. Then there will be: favorite wallpapers, favorite tiles, favorite paints, then solid items and nice hangings. But the main "thing" has already appeared - "small homeland" ("this is my village, this is my home ..."). And then there is no sentimentality, it's an instinct.

Vera Solntseva.

Doll

For my birth, the godparents gave me a Doll. The usual soviet doll with rubber head and blue eyes, yellow hard short hair, plump face and plastic body. She was with me even at a time when I myself did not remember. There are photographs where the doll Katya is bigger than me, there are photographs where she is a little bit smaller than me, there are photographs where I seem to be already big and pull my Katya by the hair. Katya became herself main toy my childhood. She always dominated the puppet tea parties. She had a girlfriend - a doll Tanya, more
Katya is in size, but for some reason much less my favorite. And the rest of the toys that appeared in my childhood did not go in any way with Katya. Katya was the main and favorite.
My grandmother, with whom I spent a lot of time, loved to knit. She tied the whole family, including my Katya. The doll Tanya was also tied, but not with such love. When I was still very young, I loved to sit and watch how the thread from the glomerulus was decreasing. Then somehow I took the hook and began to knit myself, this skill was passed on to me by itself, I didn't even have to study too much. Strange, thanks to my grandmother for this and eternal memory.
I remember once we knitted a wedding dress with my grandmother Katya: a white skirt, blouse, panama hat, scarf, handbag and socks. It became Katya's favorite outfit, she mostly wore it. When I grew up, Katya sat in the closet for a long time. She had her clothes washed about once a year and then removed to the top shelf. Later they wrapped it in a bag and put it somewhere else.
very far away. And somehow, in my opinion, when I was already studying at the institute, at home they did general cleaning, and Katya was found. I took it and suddenly noticed that her eye was broken. There were such eyelids with cilia that would close if Katya was put on.
So the little eye stopped opening. I suddenly felt painful and offended for her, lying for so many years, wrapped in a bag, forgotten, unnecessary. I was a little ashamed of my feelings for the plastic doll. But she cried all the same. I remember my mother's bewilderment: "Vera, why are you crying?" "Katya's eye broke." This is the last thing I remember about Katya. This feeling
affection and love, obscured by a sense of shame for their emotions.

Svetlana.

Ficus

Dunya Ulyanova.

Old wardrobe

For many years there has been an old wardrobe in our hallway. There are my grown-up son's jackets, my husband's raincoats, my long-worn coats. When guests come, soaked in the usual St. Petersburg rains, there is always something in the closet to fit someone. The wardrobe is called grandmother's, and I remember it all my life.
It is simple and elegant at the same time - a large mirror with wide bevels is inserted into the right door, and the left door is decorated with a carved flower on a long stem, a familiar sign of Art Nouveau that is undying in furniture business. The wardrobe appeared in a communal apartment on Ligovka, in the former Pertsov house, in the distant thirtieth year. It was acquired by the so-called "subscription", announced to support the production of a furniture factory, that is, they contributed money and later received a beautiful "setting" among the first buyers. In 1934, the family moved to a cooperative house on the Petrograd side, and the wardrobe took its place in the new apartment. He kept his grandmother's elegant colorful dresses, grandfather's white trousers and shirts, and his mother’s school dressing gown — things that are reminiscent of pre-war photographs. During the blockade, they did not burn it, they only diligently swept away all the crusts from old sandwiches that accidentally fell under it. In 1949 the family shrank and my grandmother changed her apartment. Now the aged faces were reflected in the mirror of the faded wardrobe, and the fashion clothes... Dozens of years have passed; young people who love other subjects live in our house. An old wardrobe stands in the hallway, its mirror darkened and covered with small wrinkles. But now a little girl is looking at him, she comes up with something, and the closet quietly answers her ...

Irina Zhukova.

Chair number 14

It is a wooden object with a back curving in a circle, of stunning harmony. I suck on him when I get to work. And if in the middle of the day an eye falls on him, then He invariably pleases - such a perfect and unassumingly simple form. Its back is two dignified arcs or two semicircles. The seat is two perfect circles - one carefully bends around the other, fitting tightly, so that centuries are not terrible. Chair number fourteen! I did not know that there was such a chair in the history of the famous Viennese carpenter Michael Tonet. That in the 50s of the 19th century it was the most popular and widespread, that all Viennese chairs in the world and the romantically sophisticated concept of "Viennese furniture" originated from it. That after His launch to the masses, Tonet and his sons opened the production of rocking chairs, dressing tables, cradles, beds, tables made of bent wood. It was the simplest chair. There are only six parts in the kit, and the joints with the back and legs are ground in and stitched with wooden screws, which today seems impossible. The 14th model was "licensed". The previous ones, from which the image was formed, now does not seem to count ... Rereading the history of this chair, I imagined how difficult it was from the first time for the German Tonet in Austria to get privileges to make chairs and table legs from bent wood, “pre-steamed with water steam or soaked in a boiling liquid. " I imagined in every detail how once this chair of mine was held by the hands of a master. Was it Tonet himself or his son: Franz ?, Michael? Josef? or August? One of my pair of sets was then repaired in a completely unprivileged manner: the chair was trimmed with small carnations around the perimeter of the seat, which did not spoil its charm, but added drama.

Mom, after the death of her grandmother, wanted to get rid of the chairs. But I didn’t give it, because its forms have always fascinated me. And then a friend and sister came to visit, who said: "Yes, this is Tonet's chair." I nodded, adding that it may well be, but I still haven't been able to find the master's imprint. Then we turned the chair over again and found an inscription under the rim of the seat.

Two Toneta chairs have settled down in my apartment with my grandmother's wardrobe, sideboard and a round wooden table. Despite the outward refinement, I know how strong they are. The strength of Toneta's chair was once demonstrated with a spectacular publicity stunt: it was thrown from the Eiffel Tower and did not crash. No piece of modern furniture could stand such a test.

What else did I learn about my chair: that the cost of one such chair was about three Austrian forints at the beginning of the 19th century. Just think, he's over one hundred and fifty years old. One can only imagine what kind of people were sitting on it and what kind of conversations they didn’t have.

Elena Alekseevna.

Casket

I have a box: a wooden box with a hinged lid, on which an unpretentious landscape in oil - green Christmas trees and birches surrounded by a simple carved frame. It seems to me that 50 years ago there were the same in almost every family. I remember her as much as myself, for almost half a century. As a child, the box seemed to me a magic chest. Buttons were kept in it. I loved to touch them, played with them, for some reason always in "Mowgli". She laid out buttons of various shapes and colors on the table and appointed whom Hatkhi, whom Bagira. And on back side I liked to scratch the lids with a colored pencil. The box survived many family cataclysms, moved with me from apartment to apartment. I still keep the buttons in it, and some of them are the same ones that I played with as a child, and on inside caps flaunt my childish doodles. Hope to leave this heirloom to my grandchildren if they ever will.

Tsvetkova Valentina.

Gift

There is a thing without which my house is unthinkable for some time now. There is no family significance in her, and even the situation associated with her appearance is not worth taking a place among the memorable events of my life. She has no history, she is a story, and a reminder, and a memory. It is enough to be aware of her presence. By itself, it does not cause attachment, perhaps it could easily be replaced by another. With an absolute minimum of object value, its purpose is much higher than its value. Gradually, there was a feeling or even confidence that it was not you, but she who found you.
In fact, on occasion I bought at an Orthodox fair a reproduction of Andrei Rublev's Trinity, pasted on a board and covered with a thick layer of varnish - an ICON. And by acquiring, I have found it. An opportunity to join the absolute in Love. And to understanding the essence of things.

Irina Igorevna.

Grandmother's book

I will write about my grandmother's favorite book, but rather about my grandmother. She has been gone for a long time, there is almost no one to remember her. All my life I’m damn sorry that my daughter hadn’t met her. It could have, but it didn’t happen. My grandmother died not old, barely having time to see me as a schoolgirl. Childhood did not end with the departure of my grandmother, but it ceased to be totally happy, it became multi-colored. Something fundamental was forever shaken, but even in death, grandmother did good, provoking the first critical thought: is everything here as well arranged as it seems?

The memory tape is rewound. New Year. A huge apartment of friends. Everything is interesting and mysteriously magical. Children's performances. Problems from Perelman - who will be the first to figure it out? A tree of unprecedented, forgotten height - we now have low ceilings at home. Sudden silence, floorboards creak. My parents came for me, they hug me: my grandmother is no more. The roar is theatrical: it should be so. But I don't believe them. How is it - no? I am, therefore, and she is.

First grade. Uncle Borya (he is not an uncle, he is a colleague of his grandfather) grows unprecedented gladioli, receiving bulbs from Holland (Holland is only from a book about magic skates, there is no other, but there is no doubt that they can send from it. maybe: he has a TV, we go to him to shout "puck-puck" for Spartak). Grandmother grows bulbs on the balcony of Borin's uncle. There are always onlookers under the balcony. They look at gladioli, which do not exist: they are green, black and purple - I go to first grade with them - with an avant-garde bouquet. Sun through black petals - from pink to purple. Grandma tied a particularly tight, strict schoolgirl! - braids, an apron and collars are sewn by her, cambric is starched. The balcony smells of sweet peas until October, summer lasts - this is also a grandmother. Her joy from the first large refrigerator "Oka" (it is taller than me), delight is caused by compartments for eggs - as they thought up, huh ?! - with special notches. His real uncle sent it in a roundabout way, across the whole country (it turned out that my grandmother has a son, he’s my mother’s older brother, but I don’t know him, he is a military engineer, serves in Kyrgyzstan. ”“ Where is this? I climb into the Encyclopedia - green roots - she at the bottom of the rack, it's interesting to read there). My new word - he sent it in a "container". Everyone is excited and happy.

Dacha. We “shoot”. In the city, waking up, I hear voices through the wall in the kitchen: the price has risen, 150 rubles! What to do? Smiling, I fall asleep, what nonsense, the summer and the sea will be, and the grandmother so tenderly says to the grandfather: "My dear, Bubble needs the sea." I sleep, and the pillow smells so delicious.

Dacha. Dark. The noise of the surf and firs. A moth knocking on a lampshade. Crackle of jammers. Words: BBC, Voice of America, Seva of Novgorodians. Grandmother plays solitaire, grandfather plays, he has "golden hands". Listening to the radio, they look at each other furtively, for some reason they have fun. I need to sleep a lot: I have "rheumatism". Grandma says: Leningrad is in a swamp, you will soon get well, everybody has it. I don’t know the word “kind”, I ask. Wow: my grandmother also had a grandmother, she came to her from Warsaw in a carriage (wow, was she a princess?), And then white people came, then red ones. Grandfather's voice: girls, sleep! Grandfather is always next to grandmother, he only goes to work. Looking in, am I dreaming? - they kiss. I don’t know? They always kiss: “My dear little boobie” and “Irishenka is my beloved”.

Morning, sun: how many interesting things there will be today! Grandmother's hands in a uniform motion: knit, sew, type on a typewriter, wash. Grandmother is freckled, she is all in gold dots, and she has gray eyes, she is lucky, she has huge, enormous ones. They say they are shining. And she has extraordinary hair, they say: a shock. Words: Vrubel's angel. What's this? Interesting.

House, 17th line. The silhouette of a grandmother asleep: her back is straight, straight, her eyes laugh, she is very young with her back to the light. - "Did the squirrel come? Came and brought you 3 nuts." Get out of bed: that's great! The squirrel (she is drawn on a bookmark, but comes to life at night, and therefore only her grandmother sees her) was here again: here they are, nuts. How great it is to live.

First memory. The sky is terribly huge, crashed down from the swing, paralyzing with pain and horror. Below the sky, the grandmother's face floats into the frame, and the smell of perfume, and strong, and gentle hands, - it only seemed that - scary.

An old box, there are letters and documents. 1909, telegram Perm-Pyatigorsk: “A dark-haired daughter was born. Everyone is healthy. " Leningrad University. “Not accepted by social media. origin ". Laboratory assistant, educator, typist. Profile: “There was a brother: he was shot in 1918”. Sister: sentenced in 1948. Uncle - March 1935, his wife - 1935. Others - 1938. Karpovka 39, apartment 1. Post-war letters to her husband: "Bob, dear, don't worry, we are all healthy and miss you .."

Grandma never insisted on anything. She listened, understood, loved everyone. "Please" was the most angry verb in my grandmother's lexicon: "Please ask for forgiveness, Herod of the human race." I was firm only in the fact that "coffee" of the neuter is "utter nonsense", and "if you want in masculine, then if you please:" coffee "and" coffee ". But the amendment was also strict: “We were not“ evacuated ”. It was a business trip of the People's Commissar. " Grandfather was not allowed to go to the front - as a specialist. "He tried to leave us, he ran to the military registration and enlistment office." At the end of March 1942 they were taken out of Leningrad on a military plane: husband, wife, two children. The children did not get up, they had to learn to walk anew. The weight of the cargo was strictly limited. Grandmother tied her favorite book into the hole in her belly. It is thick, but the hole in the hypochondrium to the spine contained it, it was imperceptible. Everything that was left was lost. All memory, all library. Grandma took out three books for the children: Alice in Wonderland, Little Lord Fauntleroy, Knights round table... And this one, with which she could not part, although she knew her by heart: Lermontov. Works. M., 1891. Anniversary edition. Illustrations by Aivazovsky, Vasnetsov, Vrubel. Pictures of my childhood.

I love the poem more about "the trembling fires of the sad villages", and my grandmother, Irina Ivanovna, read with inspiration: "Open the dungeon for me." She just flew away from me with her ever-beloved Lermontov. She was not made a "grandmother" at all. It seems that now I already understand what it was about. But, probably, not about everything.

Elena Alekseeva.

WITH part