Who can translate this text for this tuesday?
Muriel's home was a pleasant thereebedroomed detached house in a suburb of Manchester. The family, consisting of two girls and a boy, had been raised there. One had already left home, and the day was not far off when the other two would leave for off when the other two would leave for London and the start of their careers.
The house now lacked for nothing. The expensive days of schooling and providing for a growing family were over. The husband's salary as an engineer provided holidays in Spains, a year-old family car, colour television (not rented now, thanks to a bargain offer in a January sale), and the lounge even boasted a conner with a 'bar', complete with two stools.
Life was good until Muriel, returning from a shooping expedition in the city centre, found she had been burgled. It was bad enough that the French windows in the rear dining-room had been forced open and $20 in cash in the kitchen drawer stolen; but the damage and vandalism aged Murield on the spot, inflicting a mental wound even time would not heal.
A booted foot had shattered the television screen, leaving smashed glass, dangling wires and a jumble of crushed miniature valves. The three-piece suite had been up-ended and the fabric slashed - possibly in the hope that money had been hidden inside. Houseplants had been torn from their pots and hurled against walls. There was a horror in the kitchen. Three fish were dead on the floor, their heads stamped and crushed; they were from the family's small aquarium. The actual fish tank was not broked - i was constructed of tougt plastic - but it had been knocked from its stand and the water had soaked the fitted carped. Kitchen drawers had benn yanked out and the contents strewn over the floor.
It was the same story in each room: devastation. Murield found she could not sleep. The extra sherry at night did not sleep. The doctor later prescribed tranquillizers. Ultimately her husbands made the only decision he could: They had to sell and move from the home where they had planned to spend the rest of their lives.
The tragedy is that each year there are many thousands of Muriels.
from The Burglary Business and You by Peter Burden