Текст на английском про праздник

My favourite holiday is New Year. It is on the first of January.

In December we put up a New Year tree at home. It is green and very beautiful. There are lights and toys on it.

On the thirty-first of December my family has a big dinner. My mum makes salads. We eat, talk and laugh.

At midnight we say 'Happy New Year!' There are fireworks in the sky.

Ded Moroz brings presents. They are under the tree. I like New Year very much!

I love my birthday more than any other holiday, because it is the only day of the year that belongs to me. My birthday is in July, so I always celebrate it outside.

My best birthday was last year, when I turned thirteen. My parents organised a picnic by the river and invited all my friends. The weather was hotter than usual, so we swam a lot and played volleyball on the beach.

In the evening Dad made shashlik, and my older sister brought a huge chocolate cake with thirteen candles. Everybody sang 'Happy Birthday', and I made a wish.

My friends gave me a skateboard. It was the most exciting present I have ever got! I was so happy that I couldn't sleep that night.

This year I am going to invite my friends to a quest room in the city centre. I hope it will be fun too.

Of all Russian holidays, the one I enjoy most is Maslenitsa. It is a cheerful festival which marks the end of winter and is celebrated during the last week before Lent. Its roots go back to pagan times, when people believed that the bright, round sun could be called back with fire, songs and food.

The main symbol of Maslenitsa is the blin, a thin pancake which reminds people of the sun. During the whole week, families eat pancakes with sour cream, honey, jam or red caviar. Every day of the week traditionally has its own meaning; for example, on one day young husbands visit their mothers-in-law, who are supposed to treat them to pancakes.

In our town the celebration ends in the central park. There are snowball fights, sledging and a tall wooden pole with a prize at the top, which brave young men try to climb. However, the most exciting moment comes in the evening, when a huge straw doll is burnt to say goodbye to winter.

The last day is called Forgiveness Sunday. People ask each other to forgive them for anything bad they have done.

I have celebrated Maslenitsa every year since I was a child, and if I ever live abroad, I will definitely make pancakes that week.

At first glance, a holiday is simply a day off: a break from school or work, often accompanied by more food than is strictly necessary. Yet if holidays were nothing more than rest, we could replace them with ordinary weekends. The fact that every culture invents special days suggests that they fulfil a deeper need.

One of their functions, I would argue, is to give shape to time. Without the rhythm of New Year in winter, Maslenitsa at the end of it and family birthdays scattered across the calendar, the months would blur into one another. Holidays act as landmarks, allowing us to measure our lives not in dates but in memories: the year the power went out on New Year's Eve, the birthday when my grandfather first told stories about his childhood.

Holidays also bring people together in a way that ordinary days rarely do. Relatives who have not spoken for months gather around one table, and strangers in a city square count down to midnight in unison. Rituals, however old-fashioned they may seem, give everyone a shared script to follow, which makes connection easier even for shy people.

Critics point out that many celebrations have become overly commercial, with shops displaying New Year decorations as early as October. I partly agree. Had I measured the success of past holidays by the presents I received, I would remember very few of them. Still, commercialisation only spoils a holiday if we let the shopping replace the meaning.

Ultimately, then, the value of a holiday lies not in the date itself but in what we choose to do with it. A celebration that is planned with care and shared with the right people can become a memory that lasts for decades.