After a long trip, I had to go to work.

Where have you gathered?

M to work.

G – Why?

M is to work.

He looks with suspicion.

Taking care of an elderly grandmother. She swallowed the pills with her hands. The district therapist couldn’t tell her that she didn’t need to take so many medications. Then I bought her vitamins, some blue, others yellow. She wrote that the blue pill should be taken in the evening, and the yellow one in the morning. She started taking a miracle medicine.

Then he says, “You know, I really became easier!”

And actually started moving, walking around the apartment (before it was lying).

And so within a month. In the morning, my grandmother is lying down and dying. What happened? She confused the "miracle pill" and drank the opposite... blue in the morning and yellow in the evening. I had to run to the pharmacy for white vitamins.

So she lived on her feet and with "miracle medicines" until 98 years.

My mother and I had guests one day. Guests asked when my father would return from the sanatorium. But the father-young boy walked after the sanatorium to relatives and stuck with them indefinitely.

At the very midst of the feast, a bell ringed at the door. It was a postman who delivered a small banner. My mother did not endure and opened it. They were... toothprotheses. The father forgot them in the sanatorium, and the administration kindly sent the lost to the owner with delivery to the house.

Mom thoughtfully twisted the artificial jaw in her hands and told the guests with a feeling: "But daddy has begun to come..."

I was 15, the case was in Surgut, it was dark there early, in the evening (at eight o’clock) I went from a friend home, my way was through a large desert. I walked quietly until I noticed that some Tajik was following me, I accelerated and he, I turned and he was following me. To say I was scared is to say nothing. Suddenly, a man with a huge dive came out. Let me shout “Uncle Vanya, hello” and run to him! Uncle is standing, he doesn’t understand anything, and I took him by the hand and said, “Go, lead me, Uncle Vanya.” It shakes itself. My persecutor suddenly turned to the opposite side of us and fled in the dark. I told “Uncle Van” all that. He led me home. But if I did not get him, or if I was shy and passed by him, it could have been different. With this post I want to tell parents what they would explain to children, as well as girls, do not be afraid to approach people, do not be afraid to attract attention. It can save lives.

Those who today stand for the defense of public interests, then often sit.

manual therapy

Very long, you can miss it right away.



The first time I failed to sneeze, I was at the institute, somewhere in high school. He sneered so that a wave of oscillation passed through the spine and, as many years later became clear, moved the fifth lumbar vertebrae along the cross forward.

The pain was decent, three days I could not walk at all, lie down in the community. On the armor bed under the mattress placed two backbones from the bed, type "hard and straight", under the head legs of the bed - two bricks to create a slope, from the towels made two large loops - the ankles and to the head back of the bed. There was such an improvised extraction. It lasted a few days, eased, again for classes and shabash.

The next time I also failed to sneeze a few years later, already working as a district pediatrician in the clinic. He sneezed - and his legs crushed from pain in the lower back. At first it seemed tolerable, I could walk and lie down, I couldn’t sit, and then I couldn’t lie down, but walking was a little easier.

At night he went to the kitchen, kneeling on the chair, his chest and stomach lay on the table and in this position managed to shake for 10-15 minutes.

The tablets ate a handful - aspirin, analgin, dimedrol...the pain dulled for a short time, but the head dulled noticeably.

I started talking about the hospital. And why should she let a young doctor go, who has the time to take a double norm at the reception, and goes on a two-party call. Plus two or three emergency shifts a week closes.

And she did not like me. Truth is mutual.

He will look at me, squeeze, say, it will pass by, go to work.

Yes, and I did not see a special way out - I understood that in the hospital physiotherapy will be prescribed to me, something will be crushed in my ass... there was no other treatment then... then some surgery on the spine... the bad word disability began to blur far on the horizon...



Accidentally met with a good friend, Sasha Alymov (who in the topic - subsequently the long-time head coach of the national team of Russia in keokushinka, who brought up a lot of all sorts of winners of the country, Europe, the World; his educator became the winner of the open championship of Japan... hardly the first foreigner in the history of keokushinka who understands), he looked at my scandling, nodded and advised to approach some of their sports doctor, Kost.

I had the bones before.

The medical couch. I was placed on it on a trunk, so that the stomach and chest are on the couch, and the thighs are hanging down under a straight angle, the cross to the top trips along with the ass.

A thick good Dr. Kostya came, touched his back and slightly with all his weight pressed his hands on the cross. A tickle, a pain, my desperate mat and the doctor’s pleasant whining...and they tell me that you can get up, go home and no longer sneeze.

I can go, I can walk, I can sit, I can lie, I can sleep, I can live!! to

I was impressed by this story, well, how - pain, lack of treatment, pain, disability... and here въ@#al slightly on the back with a fist - and everything got in place, and alive, and healthy. Externally, everything was easy and simple.



Three or four years passed and restructuring, wild capitalism and new opportunities flourished.

He came to us in the city-millionaire to hold a paid training seminar on manual therapy a man from Moscow, his surname, to his shame, I don't remember something on "B", Vorotnikov, Vadiapin, Veretennikov...

It was very interesting, every day theory by hour, then the show of practitioner, at home he gave tasks - hands to practice.

I went in the evening for duty to myself to the children's rehabilitation center, after the rehab and placement of the children, I announced to the moms the topic of the homework, "The neck", for example.

In the gym, where there was a massage couch, 3-4-5 volunteer moms were sitting on the gymnastic bench, wishing to "fix" the neck.

I, reading the conscript, tried to do something carefully on the neck first.

The second, occasionally looking into the plot, did the same manipulation with the neck.

In the third and all subsequent mothers, the neck rules are already without a record.

Mothers - entertainment and healthy necks, for me - offgenic practice and confident accounts.

By the end of the training, 7-10 volunteers were gathered on each topic, almost all who stayed with the children for the night.

He passed exams, received crusts, began to work with children in the rehabilitation center.

The main groups were often sick: persistent colds, bronchitis, pneumonia, allergies and bronchial asthma, their spine was always crooked, and, aligning the spine, putting the vertebrae in place, often received a visible improvement in health, especially working in the area of 4-5-6 chest vertebrae.

And the group of children with DCP, those muscles and ligaments are so tense and overwhelmed that even simple standard manipulations led to significant relaxation and increased mobility and amplitude of movements. Of course, this is not a treatment for DCP, but a method of relieving the condition.



Shortly after I received the "short" came someday to the reception of a mother with a child, a boy 9 years old. Constant colds, immediately transitioning into obstructive bronchitis. They also have bronchial asthma. Somewhere, my mom heard the legend of a doctor who “can cure everything” and came from another city.

She looks at me cautiously, unconfidently, as if someone had forced her to go to me, even if she was alive.

I looked at the child, listened, knocked — nothing unusual.

And my mom is so cute, but her mistrust in me grows right in front of her eyes... and I decided to do something good for the child, and at the same time before my mom's tail to release.

“Well, I say, we’ll fix his back.”

I put the child on the couch on the stomach, do post-somatic relaxation, relaxing massage and quietly put on the sides of the spine between the shoulders.

The whistle was not just loud or ringing. He was – delicious!

Mommy's patience ended instantly - she rushed forward, I was dropped somewhere to the wall, the child literally pulled out of the couch and ran something very bad screaming at me.

With silent sadness I looked after a cute figure...



In a couple of months I come to work, the senior nurse comes to me in the office and stretches some cloth.

and cognac. of quality. It was in the province that, in the 91st year, when unburned vodka was almost an overwhelming gift. Anyone who did not live then will not understand.

I look at the elderly - she tells me that she came "that asthmatic child's choked mom, said thank you and that the child had no shortness of breath in two months and he was never sick."

The reason is understandable - the child had a strong block, a "subluxation" of the fifth chest vertebra, with corresponding violations of the nerve roots that ensure the work of the lungs.

I put the vertebrae in place, released the tight roots, the normal innervation of the bronchopulmonary system was restored, the body managed to cope itself, the child stopped getting sick.



At about the same time, I will enter somewhere in the building of the center, Tatiana, our constant watchman, is sitting on the watch. She was 25-28 years old then, a little full, smiling, very kind and compelled. She was always in order.

From 15 years old, he suffers from hypertension, which cannot be treated. Constant severe headaches, not relieving anything. She couldn't finish school, she couldn't work - "if I keep my head straight, then I can still endure, I used to it, but it's worth bending a little - wild pain at once", brought to the 3rd disability group, sitting all day on the watch, meeting and accompanying children and parents. You can’t write anything in the magazine – you have to bend your head.

I was young, I was not afraid of anything. “Oh, Tanja, let me fly you.”

She could not refuse and went to the massage room.

I did her standard manipulations, something in her neck crushed, in her back crushed, in her lower back clicked. The ratio of the bones of the skull corrected, after a rope measured - everything became the same.

Well, did and did, and immediately forgot about it, life in the early 90s flew like from a high mountain on sandwiches, hold stronger and do not chew your teeth - you will bite your tongue, and there you will be able to get back.

A month later, at the entrance of the center, I strike a glance at Tatiana and suddenly it comes to me that she does not get in my eyes for a month and does not enter the office.

A bad feeling what...

“Hello Tania, how are you doing?”

(B#yaya... I should ask about health, but I really fear... it would be fine, I would fit myself...)



"I then barely got home, everything floats in front of my eyes, blows in different directions, and the noise in my head, as if I could hear blood flowing through the vessels. Sick and mute.

She went to bed right away, could sleep.

(My favorite time is in the morning, three seconds between sleeping and ‘already awake.’) I hardly feel any pain at this time.

The next day I start to wake up, and catch and stretch those “three seconds almost without pain.” These three seconds I try to pull and pull, I probably enjoy them, I don’t know how to say it right.

I am not afraid to turn my head, to breathe deeply is scary, so as not to disturb anything.

And then it comes to me that I am lying for more than three seconds, my eyes have been open for a long time, and the pain does not come.

I was lying down without moving and hardly breathing until my hand was stuck and the phone was ringing - I was lost at work, I was late for an hour and a half, lying in bed without moving.

On the day of work, I called my therapist, she told me. She ran home to me in the evening, the pressure measured itself - the norm. The fifth is the norm.

The next day before work, the pressure was normal. This evening is the norm.

For four days, I ran so, the pressure was measured by myself, not trusting my nurse.

Now he jokes that now I need to be removed from disability, and how to justify it - does not know."



To everyone who was able to read - thank you and healthy spine.

Right to put, of course.

Sometimes I want to put

As a child, I played music on the piano. My grandmother loved music and dreamed that I would be performing. Once we go with her in the park, and at the exit the guy plays the violin very beautifully. A lot of people gathered and the money was thrown into his hat. And then the grandmother gives out, "You see, granddaughter, you will never be without money - you can always make money with music," - and threw a cupcake into the hat... My greatest horror for a long time was the thought: "The guy has a violin, and I will pull like my piano to the park?"

At the Michigan polling station there was a confusion with the ballots from Omsk and Tomsk.

A group of marathoners before the finish run into the last turn on the stadium and the speaker announces that another round is added to the distance of the race. This is all you need to know about pension reform in Russia.

Unification of a single-headed cat in the Kingdom of Nutria
(Dedicated to the wise Zyuka)

This story happened last week with my old friend, the former KGB executive Yuri Tarasovich.
That morning Tarasych woke up from a very strange text from an open window:

and Tatiana! Tatiana is cattle! Go here my dear. What kind of man are you? I will earn a heart attack with you!

Tatiana was a small, twenty-year-old cuddled cat with a tail, with a broken rat tail, and also one-eyed.
Her mistress - a grandmother living in a three-story house, next to Yuri Tarasovich, somehow boasted that in her youth Tatiana bravely fought with the frog, and lost her eye. Although it doesn’t look like Tatiana at all, it’s painfully small and cowardly. If a crown had really attacked her, she would have taken her to her nest. Probably it was the maximum colibri.

Yuri Tarasych finally woke up, did a long and thoughtful exercise with small hats, but the street calls did not end.
Looked out the window, greeted the neighbor and learned that from the very morning, the bastard - Tatiana was somewhere. She ate the balls from the bowl, went out of the house to the garden and fought, she was not there.
It is not on the trees either, but although it is already on the tree and does not climb, it is too old. And for the fence she has not said a nose for a long time. When he hears that someone has waved in the distance, he immediately teleports into the house, closer to his pillow under the TV.

In short, the chances that she just escaped from home are roughly the same as the chances that Queen Elizabeth will suddenly escape from Buckingham Palace, with some guard in a black hat. No more than 10 percent.
Tarasych does not especially like cats, but for the sake of decency asked for the details of the disappearance of Tatiana, sympathized with the reluctant neighbor, and closed the window closer to no longer hear:

and Tatiana! My girl, go, I will give you the balls. PS, PS and PS. Tatiana is shit! Well, that is already too much! Tatiana, well, balls, balls, balls...

The whole day a neighbor walked around the village and asked the encounters about an old, single-eyed cat of an undetermined color. All in vain, people only depicted thoughtfulness and an attempt to remember.

The evening came.
Yuri Tarasovich went to bed with a book, turned on the torcher, but did not read.
Tarasych's head, in addition to his will, was slowly filled with facts, evidence, versions and other materials about the disappearance of the neighbor's cat. There are no former investigators.
When the folder swelled and finally ceased to fit in his head, Tarasych, drawing, put the book down, went down and looked closely at the neighboring house: yes, so, on the second floor the light burns, half the twelfth, and she is not sleeping yet, so she is not sleeping. is logical. The entrance door is slightly opened, so the door still awaits Tatiana's return with one eye. Suddenly, she will come back in the middle of the night, well, not sleeping on the cold doorstep, she will be closed until the morning. Also logical. Yes, yes, yes...
Tarasych walked a little around the kitchen and suddenly realized that for a successful investigation of this case, he needed only three things: a huge cup of strong tea with lemon, a button and time.
The tea was cooked, the button was brought out of the hallway, and the time until the morning was as much as possible.
Yuri Tarasych turned off the lights in the kitchen, sat down with a cup and a button at the window and began to waste time.

At four o’clock, they finally arrived, they were two. As soon as they walked through the neighboring fence and slipped inside the house, Tarasych pressed a button.
A minute later a group of Rosgard guards arrived with short machine guns, Yuri Tarasovich intercepted her on the street and redirected her to the house to the neighbor. A minute later, the guards already packed the sad guests right at the scene of the crime, between striped bags of various newly stolen goods.
As the old KGB-ashnik assumed, twenty-year-old single-eyed Tatiana would not dare to leave her garden and out of hooligan motives to go outside the fence, and steal such a cat will not even zombies. It hurts terribly.
It was stolen only to open the door in the house at night.
The thieves, whether the Gypsies of Moldova or the Gypsies of Moldova, quickly split up and gave a sincere confession that Tatiana was sitting somewhere in a cage in a neighboring village, on some nutria farm.

And already at lunch, alive and healthy, Tatiana was delivered to the place of permanent check-in.
She complained loudly to her mistress about fate, hunger, cold, nutria and demanded a double portion of balls.

They succeeded! They have created an economic miracle. Yes, they made “Gazprom” a loss!!! to

Xxx: We and a classmate were sitting in an abandoned house, smoking cigarettes, we were 12-13 years old, and here comes a man, takes off his pants and starts shaking, looking at us, well we sat by the window, smooked and ran to the very house five kilometers without looking back, the next time I smoked only at 21 years old)

Yyy: “A quick way to get your child out of smoking. and reliable. The guarantee.”

If the president, the Duma and the government knew how hard it is to actually work, they’t be raising the retirement age.

This amazing story happened more than 10 years ago, but telling it now doesn’t leave me feeling like it was only yesterday.
So one summer morning my mom suddenly said to me:
Do you remember I said that we have relatives in the N-sk? To find them...
What is known? The name? The street where you lived?
"When we lived in Novosibirsk, they were often transcribed, I still remember the address: Trofimov, 28. And as they moved to Moscow, they lost... And I remember the name - Zhuleev. These are cousins of my father, their three brothers were, and the middle Cyril I remember very well, he came to us when I was three or four years old.
My mother is a storehouse of ideas, sometimes comparable to flying to the moon. But in the age of computer technology, why not look for it?
Do you want to go and look for it?
Why not go, right? The town is small. If I don’t find it, I just travel.
My mother is going on a journey. The question is where to stop.
By the way, the streets of the School in N-sk Yandex cards I did not find, because. The name was changed, as it was later discovered.
At the time, the classmates were very popular. Having unsuccessfully searched for Zhuleev there in the N-sk, it was decided to go the non-trivial way: taking the most common surname Ivanov, I was immediately lucky, because there were several in the N-sk. I wrote to them all, say, people we are not local, we are looking for the relatives of Zhuleev, do you not know such (a small town). I would also like to know about the hotel, as we are going to your city for two weeks from 1 to 15 July. Help as you can.
The first Ivanov replied that, said, yes, there is a hotel "Hlavna" and the phone gave it, but he did not hear anything about Zhuleev. The second Ivanov Kostya (we then became friends with him) said that he had a friend with a private hotel on the border of the city, but he also knows nothing about Zhuleev. And the third Ivanov wrote the following: “Unfortunately, I will not be in the city at these dates. But here’s the phone number of my wife, she’ll be in the city: it’s not good if a man in our city is lost.” The Wives. Here, in this place, my mother and I naturally cried: this is how our whole country holds on Ivanov! Give a stranger the number of his wife, only so that the guest does not get lost.
Well, I think a couple and about tickets to think about. Without saying anything to my mother, I buy tickets for the train back and forth, and in a couple of days I say, say, come, tickets on hand. To say that my mother was surprised, not to say anything: it was she just thought so, thoughts out loud, and here - and tickets have already been bought.
Where do I go, to whom? My mother cried.
“There you’ll find out,” I replied, waiting for an empty apartment for two weeks.
Of course, we booked a private hotel for my mom, and overall I didn’t have any concerns about her fate.
By the way, right before my mother left my cell phone broke, completely. I gave her my, too, very old apparatus, but quite alive.
So, the march of Slavyanka was accomplished, my mother went on search, taking old photos with relatives, I stayed in Moscow, and each of us had a life.
My mother said, “I got on the train and I thought, ‘Where am I going?’ What if I find no one there? Do I need it at all? There are no hotels there? Or maybe I’ll get to Peter, go out, talk there for two weeks, and then go back and say I haven’t found anyone? Then I think, well, how to do so, a child (and at 30 we are also children for their parents) bought tickets for their money, and what do I do...? I am determined, I will go to the end.
I come, parking as always 2 minutes, hardly had time to get out of the car, I look, and around the forest, and no one, and the station building is not. I was specifically caught in panic. Where to go? Where are people. People, by the way, were in front of me, just my car was the last. I’m running after those people, even asking where the station is. The station was in the middle of the platform, very beautiful. Then I found a taxi and went to the hotel. I knock, I call, and no one opens. I called the owner of the hotel – it doesn’t fit.”
At this point, I call my mom to find out how it went. She says no, because there is no one. I call Kosta, where is your friend? A friend, it turns out, has gone to the funeral, but is coming soon. Okay, his mother waited for him, settled very comfortably and life was immediately more fun.
The next day I call her for lunch, what do you do? And I, he says, is already in the garden of Kirill (her uncle)! How, I say, is it so? Did you find it at night? He says in the morning. And he tells:
“Wake up, strengthened, dressed up, painted (not seeing relatives for 50 years) and went. In the world as a cane. Well, I think where to go? I remember that one of my brothers was a professional musician and was even the director of a music school. Here I will start with her.
The town is small, with all the hands. I asked if there was a music school. It is said to be around the corner. I go to school, the door is open, but there is no one, summer vacation. I go in and ask, people, who is there? There, they answer, on the second floor, get up. I get up and there is a woman sitting at the table:
Hi to you! What did you want?
Good day! I am looking for relatives, Jules.
Everything I remember, I tell her. She thought about. No, he says, you do not need the Zhuleevs, but the Pancrats. I am, say, what Pancrats, I have never heard such a name. She said, wait, I’ll call her son.
Hello my son, hello! Tell me, where is the Stas Pancrats now? In the car shop? And his father Kirill? In the hospital? I understand, well thank you!
So, you need Kirill Pankratov, your uncle, he is in the hospital planned with the heart. Here, in the corner. My son and I studied together.
Well, I doubt, the name is not that. Well, okay, I go to the hospital, especially nearby.
After saying goodbye to the director of the music school (and it was she), I got to the hospital in five minutes, found out where Pankratov lies, got up in the chamber, knock, go, there are several men lying there, and he is not among them, i.e. My uncle is not there, no matter what name he is. I ask, where are the pancrats? Yes, on the procedures, it will come now, they answer. I sit down, I wait, the door opens and enters...Kyril! I immediately recognized him and threw myself on my neck, shouting, “Kyril, dear!”
And he said, woman, something I do not recognize you. And I show him with my hand, say, wait, now, and I get a black-and-white photo from my bag, where he is 21 years old and he holds me 3-4 years old in his arms and show him. Well, then he recognized me, of course, shouting “Alenka, is it you?!”Then you hugged and kissed and cried. They sat down and remembered. Yes, he says, I need to call Stas to come here urgently. and calls:
- Stas, come to the hospital urgently, no, health is fine, come, I say.
While we were talking, Stas arrived. He walks through the hallway, tall, smiling. And Kirill says to him:
“Meet me, Stas, this is your sister, Olya.
Stas, cleverly shaking his eyes, asks:
Does my mother know?
The laughter spread throughout the hospital.
Of course, Kirill immediately signed out, and we all went home to him. Then there were sessions, stories, who and what and where.
And with the surname in general, it was interesting: Kirill's mother, Avdotia, had two sons from the first marriage, the first husband died and after some time she married again, just for Zhuleyev, and gave birth to a third son. Father was a very good man and did not want his older brothers by their surname, so they remained Pankratov. "
Do you stay at the hotel? What you are, Mother answers, Kirill as he learned that I am in the hotel, immediately, says, move to us. I said, so what can I do, maybe I will live in a hotel, why do you bother? And Kirill said to her, yes, you say, the whole city will laugh at me and be ashamed: her nephew from Moscow lives in a hotel!
Stas then told us that he had seen our photos (mama and her father) and all asked his relatives what they were and where they were.
Then my mom met and took a picture. In the memory.
The next day, my mother went to see the area. Right behind Kirill's house, a German blend was preserved, then the road went to the mountain and the forest. Walking a little, she saw a spring. He, as it turned out, was found by her grandfather (the father of Kirilla) and arranged. There were huge valleys and caves. I walked a little further and saw a local attraction - the Soap Lake. The water is so soft that you can wash without soap.
The next day, my mother decided to go for a walk in the center. When I went back, I saw a taxi standing. I asked him if he could bring him to Trofimov, 28. And he answers, say, of course I’ll go. Ask me how much the trip costs. He is nothing to me... I say, say, but how do I understand it? He says, “Are you looking for your brother, Stas Pancratoff? You’re from Moscow?” I say, say, yes, it’s me.
All of our relatives there are not one generation of railroad workers. And the first was the grandfather, and his shape of the railroad is now hanging in the museum in N-sk. The Dynasty. The homeland.
After this story has been many, many years and we visit them and they visit us.
This is how we found.
And this story is told at every family holiday, and not always by the participants themselves and with new details.

Instead of living in Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia like in France, people come to France to live in Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia. It is strange. It is even more strange to force the French to live, like in Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia.

I used to sit in the bus next to a beautiful girl, and now – next to the one who is in a mask.

Middle of the 90s. The Surgeon. It was.
My friends are a wonderful family couple of Andrew and Lenko. She is an intelligent beauty, teaching children in a music school to play the accordion. Andryucha (Goblin) is a true strawper, breaker and braznik. They met in the ensemble, where she was a soloist, and he was knocking on drums.
Lenka in the spring graduated from car school, forced her husband to buy a used mosquito 2141 for practice and here her dreams failed, as Andrew liked driving himself.
On this bad day, we three went to a new field for mushrooms. The places were wild, but they laid a concrete of three plates 2 meters wide and it was comfortable to drive. They came, picked up mushrooms and sat down to eat before the way back. Relaxed and forgotten that there is no limit to female cowardice. Lennočka covered the lawn: sandwiches-salads, cucumbers-tomates and drinks did not forget to pour out of the bottle. The good guys rejoiced, rolled around and remembered! Unfortunately it was late! “And I took the right!” we accepted, drank a drink, sat down on the back seat and went. Surprisingly, although Kraza and Kamaza flew to meet, Lenka drove the car very decently, confidently. There are still 200 meters to the asphalt, the road is empty, only in front of the track some lighthouse turned to us.
Lenka strained and slowed. “What are you, Len?”
“Silence, there’s a grandmother driving!”
“How did you see so far?”
“I don’t know, I hear her. Who knows what to expect from her! I am afraid!”
He swung his right wheels to the side. The next car did the same. And Andrewha and I watched as they (there really is a lady behind the wheel), with a dead grip stuck in the wheel, quietly travel with a gap between the sides of more than 2 meters. After leaving, Lenka returned to the road and joyfully sang something moving on. I was in front of the crabs, but it wasn’t scary.

Retirement is understandable. The most important thing is not to be deceived with heaven.

In Russian, the numbers are quite enough.

How about 20?

and twenty

20 – twenty, 30 – thirty, 40 – forty

No, forty

What is 40? Why is?

Yes, I’m XZ, just 40

Okay, then 50 – 50

No, we start adding “five” at the end, fifty.

Strange, but okay, 60 – sixty, 70 – seventy, 80 – eighty, 90 – ninety

No, ninety

What for? Why is there a hundred?

A hundred is 100

Is the ninety going before the hundred? Is it at all how? 100 to 100, how about 200?

Two hundred

- two turned into two and added "three", well, it is Russian language, three does not turn into some "three"? 300 - three hundred

No, three hundred

300 – three hundred, 400 – four hundred, 500 – five hundred

No, five hundred

And go to...