Read the following passage and find two compound noun and two compound adjective
Roald Dahl, the British author of children’s books, wrote in a tiny cottage at the end of a trellised
pathway canopied with twisting linden trees. He called it the “writing hut,” and, since Dahl was nearly six feet
six, he must have inhabited it like a giant in an elf’s house. Dahl died in 1990, at the age of seventy-four, but
one day a year his widow, Felicity, invites children to the estate where he lived, in Great Missenden,
Buckinghamshire, and local families swarm in like guests at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. There are
games—Splat the Rat and Guess the Number of Sweeties in the Jar—and tea, cakes, and orange squash for
sale. An R.A.F. The band plays in the shade of the house. This year, I attended myself. The appointed day was hot
and bright, with a clear sky that Dahl would have described as “milky blue.” The girls wore sherbet-colored
canvas hats; the boys, their pale legs poking out of shorts, looked destined for sunburns. Many of the kids
peered inside the writing hut—they weren’t allowed in—and seemed to discover there further evidence that
Dahl was a strangely sympathetic adult who shared a preoccupation with candy, a clinical fascination with the
body, and a love of ingenious, self-devised schemes.
The adults who looked into the hut were less impressed. The walls, lined with Styrofoam, were stained
sepia from all the cigarettes Dahl smoked; there was a grotty wing chair; and wires for a jury-rigged heating
system dangled from the ceiling. “You’d expect it to be grander,” one woman said. But the kids saw more
possibilities in a musty old hut of one’s own. They liked the fact that Dahl, unsatisfied with desks, had
designed a baize-covered writing board, to balance on his lap just so. And they loved that he kept, on a side
table, a jar containing gristly bits of his own spine, which had been removed during an operation on his lower
back. Next to the jar was a waxy-looking knob that turned out to be Dahl’s hip bone, along with a titanium
replacement.
“It makes a good letter opener,” one little boy said of the prosthetic hip.
“Has it got blood on it?” another asked hopefully.
Several young visitors asked for permission to hold the ball of chocolate-bar wrappers that Dahl had
made as a young man; he scrunched a new one into the ball each day, after eating his habitual lunchtime treat.
(Now hard and surprisingly heavy, the wad resembles a small cannonball.) Still, what seemed to excite the children the most was the paperback collection of Dahl’s own work. “Look!” several of them cried. “There are
the books!”
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Answer:
1.chocolate factory and writing hut - compound noun
2.jury-rigged and baize-covered -- compound adjective
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