Picture giving directions on the phone — the listener can't see your pointing finger, so every "where" has to become a word. A preposition of place is a tiny word that fixes one thing in space next to another. Think of a small ball and a box: wherever the ball sits, that's the preposition — in the box, on the box, behind the box, in front of the box. Once you can place the ball, you can place a cafe on a street.
| behind | at the back of — The cafe is behind the bank. |
|---|---|
| in front of | facing, ahead of — The park is in front of the school. |
| next to | beside, touching — The post office is next to the library. |
| on the left / right | The temple is on the left. |
| between | with something on each side — The cafe is between the pharmacy and the communication centre. |
| opposite | directly facing across a gap — The bank is opposite the temple. |
| at the end of | right where a road stops — The library is at the end of the road. |
Here's a real slip that costs marks: a student once wrote "the shop is in the road". But a road is a line you travel along, not a box you step inside — so it must be "on the road", not "in". He lost the mark for one wrong little word.
When you give a direction, you don't say "you should walk along this street" — too slow. You say "Walk along this street." That stripped-down command is the imperative: the bare verb thrown to the front, with no subject in sight — because the subject is obviously "you", the person standing in front of you.
A bare command can sound bossy, so soften it — add "Please" at the front, or switch to "you will pass…" / "you will see…", which sounds like a friendly guide walking beside the listener rather than ordering them.
A good direction-giver does three things, in order: first the action ("walk along… turn left"), then a landmark ("the second building on your left"), then a back-up landmark ("you will pass the National Bank and the theatre"). A lost stranger can still find the place even if they miss one step. And the whole exchange is wrapped politely — it opens with "Excuse me" and closes with "Thank you very much" / "My pleasure".
English often refuses to say "a group of" — it reaches for a special word instead. Bees don't come in a group, they come in a swarm; stars don't come in a group, they come in a galaxy. These special group-words are collective nouns, and each one fits the picture it describes — which is why it helps to picture the group as you learn it.
| For animals | a herd of cattle / elephants · a flock of birds / sheep · a swarm of bees · a brood of chicken · a drove of pigs · a kit of pigeons · a school of fish |
|---|---|
| For things | a fleet of ships · a bunch of bananas / flowers / keys · a chain of islands · a galaxy of stars · a panel of experts · a shelf of books |
Think about what a parent actually wants to hear when their child has left home for the first time. The email moves the way a reassuring phone call would: From / To / Subject at the top, a warm greeting, news that you arrived safely and how you feel, one or two living details, a reassuring line about your health, and a question that hands the conversation back.
A data-sheet task hands you a checklist of facts, and the danger is dumping them in a heap. Don't — wrap them in a person speaking. Open and close with the warmth of a real greeting, and march through the required fields in a sensible order: area, population, language, currency, flag, a tourist attraction, and finally something the country gave the world.