Квартира даром

Инструкция «МН»: как получить квартиру в Москве

14 января 2013

© РИА Новости. Александр Кряжев

По данным департамента жилищной политики и жилищного фонда города Москвы, в столице в очереди на квартиру стоит около 105 тыс. семей. «Московские новости» рассмотрели различные действующие в Москве жилищные программы и узнали, как встать в очередь на жилье и сколько времени потребуется, чтобы его получить.

 

Как действовать

Для того чтобы встать на жилищный учет, необходимо: быть гражданином РФ; десять лет официально прожить в Москве, то есть быть зарегистрированным по месту жительства;последние пять лет не пытаться ухудшить свои жилищные условия, чтобы общая площадь жилого помещения на каждого члена семьи не превышала 10 кв. м в отдельных квартирах и 15 кв. м — в коммунальных.

Стоит отметить, что если вас поставили на жилищный учет, то ждать придется довольно долго, поскольку сейчас, например, квартиры получают те семьи, что встали на учет аж в 1989–1991 годах.

Однако параллельно с предоставлением бесплатного жилья действует ряд так называемых возмездных программ, позволяющих улучшить жилищные условия быстрее. К ним относится приобретение жилья по льготной стоимости с использованием ипотечного кредита или с рассрочкой платежа и др.

Кстати, есть несколько категорий граждан, которые могут получить жилье вне очереди.  Это дети-сироты, участники Великой Отечественной войны, тяжелобольные люди, имеющие льготы по медицинским показаниям. Также внеочередное право на улучшение жилищных условий имеют граждане, проживающие в аварийном жилье.

( по материалам газеты «Московские новости»)

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Concluding the Theme

Tasks

1. Start compiling a topical vocabulary list on housing making use of the current British and American press.

2. Find in the press an article pertaining to housing in Russia. Relate it as close to the text as possible.

T О P I С 2

House interior

1. Read the following texts. Learn the words and word-combina­tions in italics and use them when making a summary of each text (writ­ten). Consult the Supplementary Topical List for translation. (p. 174)

The room displayed a modest and pleasant colorscheme, after one of the best standard designs of the decorator who "did the inte­riors" for most of the speculative-builders' houses in Zenith. The walls were gray, the woodwork white, the rug a serene blue; and very much like mahogany was the furniture—the bureau with toilet-articles of almost solid silver, the plain twin beds, between them a small table holding a standard electric bedside lamp, a glass for water, and a standard bedside book with colored illustrations — what particular book it was cannot be ascertained, since no one had ever opened it. The mattresses were firm but not hard, triumphant modern mattresses which had cost a great deal of money; the hot-water radiator was of exactly the proper scientific surface for the cubic contents of the room. The windows were large and easily opened, with the best catches and cords, and Holland roller shades guaranteed not to crack. It was a masterpiece among bedrooms, right out of Cheerful Modern Houses for Medium Incomes. Only it had nothing to do with the Babbitts, nor with anyone else. If people had ever lived and loved here, read thrillers at midnight and lain in beautiful indolence on a Sunday morning, there were no signs of it. It had the air of being a very good room in a very good hotel. One expected the chambermaid to come in and make it ready for people who would stay but one night, go without looking back, and never think of it again.

Every second house in Floral Heights had a bedroom precisely like this.

The Babbitts' house was five years old. It was all as competent and glossy as this bedroom. It had the best of taste, the best of inex­pensive rugs, a simple and laudable architecture, and the latest conveniences. Throughout, electricity took the place of candles... Along the bedroom baseboard were three plugs for electric lamps, concealed by little brass doors. In the halls were plugs for the vacuum cleaner, and in the living-room plugs for the piano-lamp, for the electric fan. The trim dining-room ... had plugs which supplied the electric per­colator and the electric toaster.

In fact there was but one thing wrong with the Babbitts' house: It was not a home.

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It was a room which observed the best Floral Heights standards. The gray walls were divided into artificial panelling by strips of white-enameled pine. From the Babbitts' former house had come two much-carved rocking-chairs, but the other chairs were new, very deep and restful, upholstered in blue and gold-striped velvet. A blue velvet davenport faced the fireplace and behind it was a cherrywood table and a tall piano-lamp with a shade of golden silk. (Two out of every three houses in Floral Heights had before the fireplace a davenport, a mahogany table real or imitation, and a piano-lamp or a reading-lamp with a shade of yellow or rose silk.)

On the table was a runner of gold-threaded Chinese fabric, four magazines, a silver box containing cigarette-crumbs, and three "gift-books" — large, expensive editions of fairy-tales illustrated by English artists and as yet unread by any Babbitt save Tinka.

In a corner by the front windows was a large cabinet Victrola. (Eight out of every nine Floral Heights houses had a cabinet pho­nograph).

It was a room as superior in comfort to the "parlor" of Babbitt's boyhood as his motor was superior to his father's buggy. Though there was nothing in the room that was interesting, there was noth­ing that was offensive. It was as neat, and as negative, as a block of artificial ice. The fireplace was unsoftened by downy ashes or by sooty brick; the brass fire-irons were of immaculate polish; and the grenadier andirons were like samples in a shop, desolate, unwanted, lifeless things of commerce.

Against the wall was a piano, with another piano-lamp, but no one used it save Tinka. The hard briskness of the phonograph contented them; their store of jazz records made them feel wealthy and cultured; and all they knew of creating music was the nice adjust­ment of a bamboo needle. The books on the table were unspotted and laid in rigid parallels; not one corner of the carpet-rug was curled; and nowhere was there a hockey-stick, a torn picture-book, or ... an old cap.

Though the house was not large it had, like all houses on Flo­ral Heights, an altogether royal bathroom of porcelain and glazed tile and metal sleek as silver. The towel-rack was a rod of clear glass set in nickel. The tub was long enough for a Prussian Guard, and above the set bowl was a sensational exhibit of tooth-brush holder, shaving-brush holder, soap-dish, sponge-dish, and medicine-cabinet, so glittering and so ingenious that they resembled an electrical in­strument-board. But the Babbitt whose god was Modern Appli­ances was not pleased. ...

The bath-mat was wrinkled and the floor was wet. (His daugh­ter Verona eccentrically took baths in the morning, now and then.) He slipped on the mat, and slid against the tub. Furiously he snatched up his tube of shaving-cream, furiously he raked his plump cheeks with safety-razor. It pulled. The blade was dull.

He hunted through the medicine-cabinet for a packet of new razor-blades, and when he discovered the packet, behind the round box of bicarbonate of soda, he thought ill of his wife for putting it there and very well of himself for not saying "Damn".

He finished his shaving. When he was done, his round face smooth and streamy and his eyes stinging from soapy water, he reached for a towel. The family towels were wet, he found... Then George F. Bab­bitt did a dismaying thing. He wiped his face on the guest-towel! It was a pansy-embroidered trifle which always hung there to indi­cate that the Babbitts were in the best Floral Heights society. No one had ever used it. No guest had ever dared to. Guests secretively took a corner of the nearest regular towel.

(From "Babbitt" by Sinclair Lewis)