With its usual gusto this opened with
the Sullivan's evre popular "Peers March". This was followed by the Violin
Ensemble, which responded well to Peter Hayden's conducting, and several
items by various combinations of brass and woodwind were greatly appreciated
for the obvious versatility and enthusiasm of the much-enlarged orchestra.
William Walton's "Facade" Suite provided an amusing contrast, and the unity
maintained between the eight speakers and the two pianists, Steven Robertson
and John Guerrier was admirable.
Once again Mr. Loveland turned out a highly polished Madrigal Choir which
sang three madrigals, managing, as we begin to expect from his hand-picked
group, to combine precision with beauty.
The first half ended with a Second Form play "The Boy Who Wouldn't Play
Jesus", which was performed with marked sincerity; not only were we made to
laugh, but also to see the significance of the play, which featured Nicholas
Grady, Paul Cocks, John Burchett as shepherds, and Denis Bainbridge as John.
The Concert's finale was the opera "He Who Says Yes" by Kurt Weill. Once
again the school orchestra excelled itself under the directions of Mr. Bell,
and the choir also held its own in this often tricky work. Miss Jones,
Nicholas Sorensen and Nicholas Grady all sang and acted with conviction, as
did the "students" David Bunkell, Nicholas Ananin, Martin Camden, Nicholas
King, Steven Robertson and Robert Shove. In both the play and the opera,
Mrs. Weatherill's production played an important part, and it is to Mr.
Bell's energy and skill that we owe the high standard achieved in the music.
THE SUMMER FETE
The longest Wimbledon men's final for many years did little to prevent the
attendance of a massive crowd in perfect sunshine last July 3rd and the
consequent production of the biggest profit yet. Generally reckoned the best
Fete so far, it certainly resulted in the involvement of more than 350
people-boys, parents and staff, and left the feeling that the School is a
really thriving community. Preparations began way back before Christmas,
getting help, acquiring goods of all sorts and producing the programme, and
continuing with increasing urgency into the summer -a major effort going
into shaking everyone out of their lethargy and the feeling that "it must be
alright on the day"; thanks to the Fete Chairman and his helpers everything
happened without a hitch and the School has the great good fortune to be in
line for a further financial boost of well over £1,100.
My main objectives at the school were to increase considerably the number of
boys participating in choral and instrumental music. The chief result of
this was the very large forces used in two performances of Carl Orff's "Carmina
Burana" and the large choir used in the opera "Der Jasager".
The school orchestra appeared for the first time in Assembly, not only
playing the hymn but often an orchestral piece. Eventually there was an
orchestra for Junior Assembly on Wednesdays, Senior Orchestra on Thursdays,
and Full Assembly on Fridays. Another innovation was the appearance of the
orchestra and wind band at the Summer Fete playing on the Pavilion steps.
Besides the frequent rehearsals by choir and orchestra, weekly practices
were initiated for wind and string ensembles. A music club was formed and
these meetings proved very popular, as for instance when Miss Jones sang.
Each meeting combined recorded music with "live" items from staff and
I should like to express my thanks to the visiting instrumental staff for
all their work and I hope that music, especially in its practical forms,
will flourish at the school in the future.
SIXTH FORM SPONSORED WALK Colin Giddens, U.VI.Mod.1.
When the Upper Sixth took over the common room in September of 1970 it was
in dire need of renovation in the form of new furniture and various
fittings. It was decided that we should go on a sponsored walk in aid of the
common room; so on Sunday, October 18th a large group of Sixth Formers left
school at 7.30 a.m. for Brighton in the school bus.
On arriving at Brighton, in brilliant sunshine, we set straight off back to
Coulsdon, but walking this time. The full length of the walk was 38 miles,
from Preston Park, Brighton, to Coulsdon Post Office car park. Some dropped
out on the way from exhaustion or blistered feet, but the bulk of the group
had finished by about 9 p.m. on the same evening. After a most enjoyable and
strenuous walk I am sure that most of the participants were glad to be home.
The thanks of the Sixth Form must go out to Mr. Rainforth for organising the
walk and to the many parents, teachers and friends of the School who
controlled the Check Points and supplied us with very welcome drinks and
snacks. I must also, I am sure, convey the thanks of the footsore and weary
walkers who were picked up by the many patrolling cars along the way.
I am sure that all of the boys who limped around school on the Monday
morning felt that it was well worth while as we were able to buy chairs,
carpets, tables and other things, which make the common room more habitable,
from the total of £450 which was raised from the walk.
A pleasant sequel took place during the Summer Term, when the Committee
invited those Parents and Staff who had helped on the walk, to a social
evening in the Common Room. This proved a most enjoyable occasion for all
concerned and one which might well be repeated in the future. The whole
venture illustrated very well what can be achieved by pupils, parents and
staff working together in a spirit of co-operation towards a common end.
CITIZENSHIP COURSE Harding Scott, 5.D.
After the strain of the exam season, most of the remaining Fifth Formers
were thrust into a series of visits and lectures known collectively as the
Some of the visits were extremely successful. Mr. William Clark, the local
M.P., led a conducted tour of the Houses of Parliament which proved to be
both interesting and highly informative. Other visits were arranged to
places as varied as the Kodak factory and Croydon Quarter Sessions. For the
scientists there was the Laboratory of Government Chemists and a visit to
the Museum complex in South Kensington.
THE BOURNE 15
The visit to the Shell Building in London proved to be particularly popular,
with both a film show and free coffee and biscuits to keep the party happy.
The visits as a whole were characterised by very fine weather, though the
unreliability of the School bus did cast a shadow over two of the
The series of lectures were not the "Essay in Acute Tedium" that had been
fearfully anticipated. Mr. Tom Chapman gave a refreshingly honest talk on
the Trade Unions, and certainly managed to stir up a great deal of interest
in that vast and much publicised subject. The ebullient Miss M. Quass gave a
comprehensive lecture on the United Nations. The lecture subjects varied
from the Old Purleians to a career in the Army. Mr. Mant deserves thanks for
organising the careers day incorporated in the course, but most of all we
would like to thank Mr. Rainforth, without whose labours the course would
not have been possible.
At 7.30 a.m. on the cold but fine morning of the 17th April, thirty-three
boys and four masters assembled at the school to be compacted with a vast
amount of luggage into the school minibus driven by Mr. Shepherd, Mr. Mant's
land rover, Mr. Banks's car, and a minibus lent by Mr. Goodman and driven by
Mr. Akers. A further three boys from the South Godstone area were
transported by one of our parents, Mr. Keen, to whom we are most grateful.
After an easy journey, the whole party arrived at lunch-time within half an
hour of each other, to be met on the quayside by a calm Mr. Jenkins who had
travelled up the previous evening.
Waiting for us were five large cabin yachts and three half-deckers, and
after our experience of the previous year the belongings and stores were
soon stowed away, and all the boats had set sail by 3.00 p.m.
The three main features which stand out already were the keynote of the
whole week's sailing. The weather was fine, sunny and warm at times, a vast
amount of nautical miles was covered easily and pleasantly, and an air of
general efficiency pervaded the whole week, or certainly the first half of
it. We doubled our mileage of last year by tackling the difficult tidal
waters down to Yarmouth and then across Breydon Water to Lowestoft where we
spent Monday night moored on Oulton Broad. The best sailing skill was
evident on Tuesday, on the way back across Breydon, in the face of a head
wind. Unfortunately, through lack of breeze in the early morning, not all
the boats were able to reach the entrance to Breydon before the tide had
turned, but nevertheless all the eight boats succeeded in sailing across and
reached as far as Acle, where we spent Tuesday night. Suggestions that some
boats used their motors and others even oars and punt poles were
diplomatically evaded. From Acle the fleet set sail for Barton Broad where
several of the crews switched boats and gained further experience in some
generous and light-hearted racing. But it was en route for Barton Broad that
one of the boats hit a submerged stake when tacking and eventually sank. For
a long time some of us will remember the dinghy full of sodden clothes,
sleeping bags and tins, followed by a cramped night with double the
complement sleeping in the larger yachts. The Admiral's boat became known as
the "refugee ship" and presented a rare sight of eleven boys sailing in a
four-berth yacht. However, the boatyard had the sunken vessel repaired and
renovated by the Friday to be handed back to its crew for the last day.
From Barton Broad the fleet split
up, the more enthusiastic members sail Wroxham to visit a boat auction. With
advice from Mr. Mant and Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Akers bought a sailing dinghy
which eased the congestion for the return jo back through Horning and Potter
Higham to spend the last night on Hickling Broad.
It was, indeed, a memorable week of fine weather and lots of sailing expel
to be gained by all. Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Shepherd and Mr. Banks all went for an
involuntary swim, as did several boys, during the various crises of the
week. We remember the Admiral's propensity for cutting new channels in the
tidal areas, sometimes let it be said with success, Mr. Mant's splendid
sartorial standards, the grim determination of Mr. Jenkins to do everything
except cook, Mr. Banks's tendency ( to make his boat resemble a second-hand
clothes emporium, and of course Mr. Shepherd's desire, and successful
attempt even, to enter the submarine service.
Already seven boats have been booked for next year's expedition and hoped
that it will be as successful and as greatly enjoyed as this year's was. In
conclusion we do thank all those members of staff who gave up their holiday
to make it such a worthwhile week.
EXPEDITION Paul Taylor,
A small group of boys plus Mr. Openshaw arrived at Euston Station on Mot
April 15th to travel overnight to the Isle of Arran in Scotland. The purpose
o visit was, together with several other schools from all over England, to
begin a detailed study of the seashore of the Isle of Arran on an ecology
course run b, Inter-School Christian Fellowship.
On the train journey we met other members of the course, and by the time
reached our destination we were all fairly well acquainted. During our stay,
were made to local beaches, and unsuspecting marine specimens were colt( and
taken to Arran High School for identification and display. Lectures were c
at the school, on topics ranging from oceanic currents to population on the
sea by each of the staff on the course, whose knowledge and willingness to
help always of a very high standard.
The completion of the course was regretted by all, as the friendly and infc
atmosphere throughout had been conducive to the formation of new and la
friendships. Once again we would like to thank Mr. Openshaw, always full of
, remarks, and the other members of the course who gave very useful
spiritual scientific guidance. The course was a great success, and all who
attended left broadened minds.
PENNINE WAY EXPEDITION Nigel Morris.
The "0" levels having ground to a glorious halt, a party of eight Fifth For
were hustled onto a train at St. Pancras Railway Station by Mr. Mant,
assisted veteran of the Pennines, Richard Blewett. After a hot and tiring
journey involved an hour and a quarter stop at a signal and an unscheduled
change of trains at Skipton, our intrepid heroes left the "Thames-Clyde
Express" only eighty-five minutes late, and set off to walk the southern
half of the Pennine Way. Striding briskly up onto the moors, the party
experienced for the first time the full effect of the brilliant sunshine.
Water canisters were soon empty and our camp at Malham witnessed the first
of many liberal applications of sunburn creams and lotions.
An excellent night's sleep in pleasant surroundings was enjoyed at Malham,
marred only by the activities of an itinerant herd of cows, which somehow
managed to get onto our site during the early hours of the morning. A few
hours after our early-morning rodeo, we were beginning our first complete
day's walking, an eighteen mile hike across open farmland to Earby, where
several of us were amused by being asked: "Is thee goin' opp t' yout' ho'tel
?" Words we shall never forget.
It was at Earby Youth Hostel that our only casualty was discovered. As had
happened in previous years, this Fifth Former was suffering from a form of
food poisoning, probably caused by drinking infected water from a stream.
His condition was not improved by the heat, which remained at a temperature
of eighty or ninety degrees all the time we were there.
For the next couple of days the party split, so that two of the expedition
members could take the lead in order to complete their Duke of Edinburgh
Bronze Award hikes, the arrangement being to link up again on Stanbury Moor
for the night. Needless to say, the two parties failed to find each other in
the evening. Unforeseen problems arose, such as the fact that the main party
had between them only one stove and one complete tent. We were fortunate in
finding a dilapidated cottage in which we managed to light a fire and
prepare to "rough it" for the night, ignorant of the fact that the three
other members of the group were camping less than a mile away, with two
stoves, two tents and most of our food!
We set off in good time in the morning, and climbed higher onto the moors.
Here the Pennine Way winds up past the legendary Withens, an old stone
cottage, now ruined, which is said to be the source of inspiration for Emily
Bronte's "Wuthering Heights". The hike continued over some of the most
spectacular moorland scenery we were to encounter, down to Mankinholes Youth
Hostel, where a welcome cooked supper awaited us.
Roused in the morning by a record of the pipes and drums of the Black Watch
(the hostel warden was Scottish), we consumed a massive breakfast and set
off on our longest walk, the trek to Saddleworth Moor. Leaving behind the
rolling hills and well-defined tracks, the last five miles involved a
struggle through peat bogs, into which more than one of us fell and had to
be dragged out. However, this was followed by what was definitely our most
comfortable night under canvas, as the peat was found to be extremely soft
and springy, giving a feather-bed effect to our aching backs.
The trudge across the peat-covered heights of Black Hill, followed by a long
and pleasant ramble along a mountain stream to Crowden, marked the end of
the expedition as such. From Crowden the party divided into groups of two or
three in order to reach Edale before dark by any conceivable means, which
turned out to be a mixture of hitch-hiking and public transport. Camp was
set up on a public site at Edale, all but one member of the party having
walked at least one hundred miles, a very creditable performance when one
considers the lack of experience of many of the group. The success of the
expedition owed a great deal to the careful planning and organisation done
by Mr. Mant, for which everyone involved would like to give their thanks.
THE SKIING HOLIDAY
Nicholas Ananin, L.VI.W.
The abominable snowmen are normally sighted in the Himalayas; however,
during the latter part of last December they seemed to have migrated and
taken up residence at St. Antonien in Eastern Switzerland. At least, that is
what one might have thought, judging from the strange group of snow-covered
creatures skiing abominably down the slopes of the Raticon Slivretta range
to emerge upon the unsuspecting villagers below.
The saga begins, as so many do, at Victoria Station. On the 27th December, a
group of Purley boys assembled on Platform 1, confident that their two
hours' training at Bowles must surely be adequate preparation for ten days'
Grenoble standard skiing. Under the expert supervision of Mr. Shepherd and
Mr. Shirley we "accidentally" found ourselves in a carriage dominated by the
fairer sex. Our journey thus passed rather quickly.
Less than a day later this same group could be found fumbling with ski
straps, preparing to demonstrate their newly acquired skills. Mr. Shirley's
expertise was to be an example to everyone: so much so, that when we had our
first professional lesson on the Tuesday morning, each one of our group knew
the right and wrong ways to fall! However, the wrong methods were often
favoured, as Havill's broken leg revealed.
As those who have seen out the Old Year will realise, getting up in the new
one is by no means an easy matter: especially when it is not only the
ski-slopes with "over-hangs". It was not pure coincidence that for that day,
at any rate, the lesson with Adrian, the Instructor, was postponed until the
afternoon. Having recovered, however, we were soon to consider ourselves
proficient enough to tackle a journey on skis (almost!) to the Austrian
border. The sense of achievement more than matched the sense of exhaustion
resulting from this.
Tuesday the 5th January was a day of goodbyes. After a final ski and a very
sad farewell to the much patronised "Bernie's", we set out from our hotel on
our return journey. It was a much bedraggled and exhausted party which
emerged from the train the following afternoon.
Thanks, admiration and sympathy were all earned by Messrs. Shepherd and
Shirley for creating order out of possible chaos. The holiday was indeed a
highly enjoyable experience, and one can only hope for a repetition some
time in the future.
WHITSUN HOLIDAY IN WILDERSWIL
The decision to repeat the previous year's Whitsun week in the Swiss village
of Wilderswil proved very successful. Opinions varied as to the miles walked
but at least one pair of boots was worn through and boys returned decidedly
fitter to England than they had set out. Every form of transport was tried
and in the mountains we alternately fried in the heat and got wet through.
Plenty of local contacts were made (Purley winning the inevitable football
competition) and vast amounts of pocket money were spent in incredibly short
periods of time despite Mr. Rainforth's valiant attempts to stem the flow.
Ideas varied as to the highlights of the holiday certainly not the train
journey for Stoneham whose argument with part of the compartment fixtures
resulted in a painful consultation with a local Swiss doctor who hadn't
heard of anaesthetic; on the other hand a record five hour sleep was
sustained by Hooley in both directions, no mean feat on a school holiday
special which is definitely not to be recommended for more discerning
travellers. The party laid on for us at the hotel provided the interesting
spectacle of first formers dancing with people twice their age and staff
members obtained a clean sweep in competitions to see who could yodel the
best and who could drink the most out of a baby's feeding bottle, much to
the joy of Purley boys used to being on the receiving end-such are the
experiences of foreign travel . . . The return Channel crossing provided the
worst moments for many of the party: the ship's announcer used the term
"choppy" but according to a member of 2B "it was really gruesome" perhaps we
shall fly next year.
A kaleidoscope of impressions remain: chalets, cuckoo clocks and cow bells,
and a neat and orderly country where everything happens to the precision of
a Swiss watch-all very nice for a week's holiday especially as a first
experience of the continent, but it was amazing how quickly everyone melted
away on the return to Victoria in the anticipation of the creature comforts
SCHOOL JOURNEY TO
PARIS Steven Scott, U.VI.
At 10.00 prompt on Friday, July 16th, the Dover boat train pulled out of
Victoria Station. On board were 36 Purley schoolboys and 3 masters. A smooth
crossing to Calais and a fast train journey to Paris left us with time for a
7.30 p.m. supper at the Lycee and a walk down the brightly-lit Champs
Friday's fast pace continued, when on Saturday morning a coach tour of Paris
was highlighted with a visit to the Sacre-Coeur and Montmartre, with its
famous artist's quarter. The afternoon was spent, firstly at the Louvre,
which includes the Mona Lisa amongst its fine art collection, and then an
invasion of a large store "La Samaritaine". The climax of the day was an
enjoyable boat trip down the Seine at night.
Sunday morning found our party on the Ile de la Cite and the "compulsory"
visit to Notre Dame. A lightning lunch was followed with a coach trip to
Versailles. Good planning enabled us to see the Palace and the gardens, the
latter with the
fountains in "rare action". Supper was provided at a nearby school and the
coach trip home wound up a very interesting and tiring day, while others
still found the energy to walk as far as the beautiful illuminated fountains
opposite the Eiffel Tower.
Our final day started with a rewarding ascent of the Eiffel Tower. A quick
lunch and then homeward bound by way of train, hovercraft (for the first
time) and train again to London.
Our special thanks go to Mr. Pettitt and Mr. Payne, both on their final
trips, having completed a grand total of 9, and to Mr. Rainforth for making
this trip the undoubted success it was.
SCHOOL TRIP TO GERMANY
Neil Foxlee, L.VI.W.
According to the school calendar, a party was due to leave for Hamburg on
the 28th May. We did leave then, but our destination was Koniaswinter a
charming resort on the banks of the Rhine.
Prices were as steep as the single track-railway which went up the hill,
this meant that trips down to Konigswinter itself became major expeditions.
Prices, in fact, were generally high, but this did not dissuade people from
buying all sorts of things, from cuckoo-clocks to bratwurst. We did most of
our shopping in Bonn, where we also had a fascinating guided tour of the
Bundeshaus and Cologne, where we went around the famous cathedral. Visits
were also made to the racingtrack at Nurburg, where we saw an Indian
film-crew in action, Rudesheim, which included a trip on a Rhine Steamer,
and the Ahr valley. The latter was, for some, the highlight of the journey,
since we visited a wine-cellar in Walporzheim, where wine was available by
the glass and by the bottle at very reasonable prices.
When we were not "on the road", we managed to fit in swimming at the superb
local baths, football and games of cards, including a whist competition
which was luckily won by Savage and James. The weather was variable, but
always good when necessary, and behaviour was discreet. There were a few
unpleasant incidents, but these were soon forgotten, thanks to the fair, but
firm control of Mr. Appleton. The otherwise uneventful return journey was
marked by a rough crossing, which only seemed to affect the smaller members
of our party. On behalf of everyone who went, I would like to thank Mr. Et
Mrs. Bowen, Mr. Appleton (who, to his credit) tried out his newly acquired
German at every opportunity, and especially Miss Jones, without whom the
trip would have been impossible.
POETRY AND PROSE
THE WORTH OF A LEADER
Nothing so fine as his
Nothing to equal the speed of his feet.
There unchallenged he stood on the hillcrest,
Unknown was the meaning of loss or defeat.
Proud of the herd that clustered behind him,
Waiting expectant for any small sign,
A lift of the head, a movement of limb,
Would send them away down the rocky decline.
Then swift as a deer he would follow their steps,
And, seeing that none were left lagging behind,
He'd take o'er the lead of the fear-crazed herd,
And gallop to safety as fast as the wind.
His instinct was true, his courage unfaltering,
At first signs of danger he'd urge them to run.
And travellers passing a few minutes later,
See only the valley and red setting sun.
Gary Kuhler, 4D.
SILENCE Mark Clark 4D
Silence is a vacuum of speech,
Of noise and communication. Silence is unreal,
Seeming ghostly, strange and eerie.
Look at the scene called life.
Reach for and turn down the volume knob.
Observe, for you can't hear:
The record spins, the vocal chords vibrate, The singer mouths words to a
silent backing. Words are meaningless, music's scales are inaudible.
Look! You deaf-mute,
For now you have only one window to life
VOICE by Douglas Mitchell
The tree stood with imprisoned might
through the endless hours of darkest night,
with arms outstretched to catch the moon.
A shadow falls and then, too soon,
winds whisper, clouds declare their might
and nature begins the daily fight.
With a rush and a roar the wind sails by
like a spider toward the imprisoned fly.
The skies are filled with such distrust,
like the tree with leaves of blackened rust,
that flowers shut tight their petalled mouths
and silence greets these warring hours.
But, even after such a show of power, on the morrow
Beauty, for all of her strength and her wealth,
Finds, to her sorrow,
that Nature has destroyed only herself.
A flower with moistened lips and blood-red hair,
Falls foul of Adam's darkened snare,
puts on the coat of darkness there
and drowns, and drowns in putrid, putrid air.
For the day has begun and chimneys spew out
cloud upon cloud from an un-muzzled snout;
Engines roar and Nature cries,
and turns away her tearful eyes.
Mankind is blinded by a forbidden dream
that runs through his mind like a mountain stream.
A forest of glazed eyes stare at each other
with relationed love of sister and brother.
Murdered trees fill their gaping mouths,
and their eyes have bags of imprisoned flowers.
Within an eye were a pair of eyes,
Ancient now and filled with rain,
A darkened cloud hung to chastise, and
The woman stood with imprisoned might
through the endless hours of darkest night.
WATER Peter Allard 5D
Moist sweetness, when a carpet of dew covers the grass,
Glistening in the sunlight.
Colour in the sky.
A soft, refreshing liquid on one's face.
Damp coolness to ease the pain,
The soothing cupful.
Torrents of white beauty, The almost noiseless noise of dripping trees.
Water is the helper,
Water is the saviour and the merciful.
A pure, clear, holy temptation.
God will be with those who are tempted,
For Water-is Life.
Poem by Neil Foxlee,
Morning breaks; the cold sunlight shines feebly over the grey-roofed town.
In the deserted streets greasy newspaper blows in the blustery wind.
The chip shop, from where it came, is shut; its sun-flaked shutters swing
Everything is closed: the "Roxy", the "Empire", the candy-floss stalls, the
Everything is dead.
Especially the pier, the pier where last night lights flashed, people
screamed and laughed,
Roller-coasters rolled, dodgems dodged, waltzers waltzed and Ferris-wheels
All in an ecstasy of motion.
I remember the kids, faces sticky with rock, pleading with Dad for a few
Old ladies, clutching their handbags, feeding the open mouths of greedy
Somehow finding the strength to pull the levers, grasping and grabbing when
the coins rattled out.
But that was last night. This morning I look out from the pier, I see
oil-slicks floating on the incoming tide,
I see water sucking, rising and falling, black, evil water. I see slime from
the depths, dead jelly fish, seaweed,
I see stagnation, cheapness, and a lingering death: The "traditional"
English seaside town.
MOONLIT GRAVEYARD Peter
The ravens all are watching from a vantage point on high.
The black velvet sky is holed by sharp star-points.
The stones stand gaunt in the hollow light, as if made
The stark trees like spiders crawling up the black sky-wall
And the owl is a deterrent to the errant living.
A WEARY RETURN Julian Eisner, 1.B.
Father and Mother, carrying suitcases filled with heavy clothes and
souvenirs, hustled children, carrying buckets full of sand and shells into
the car. One last goodbye to the landlady and they were off, hoping that
their ancient chariot of a car would stand the weary journey home.
The children, with faces painted with icecream, sea-water and sand, fought
noisily over the last sticky boiled sweet. Mother, exhausted by their summer
visit to the sea, looked back and thought about their happy activities. She
then looked ahead to the busy life in town, the hard labour at the pram
factory with little pay, and wished that holidays could last a little
Father, at his chariot wheel, shut himself off from his noisy family, and
kept his eyes, shaded by sunglasses, tight on the busy road.
The journey seemed to take hours. The children soon got fed up with the
dreary scenery around them, and decided to have a large-scale bucket battle.
Sand went in every corner, seaweed went on every head, and shells went all
over the rusty, rug-less floor.
Father, coming back to reality, stopped his ancient chariot, and threatened
the children with a long walk home. The children then sat quietly for the
rest of the journey.
Hours seemed to pass before they reached their destination, by which time it
had got dark and the children had fallen to sleep on each others' shoulders,
dreaming of icecream, sunshine, and sand.
Father sees his little house, and gives a sigh of relief. He turns the
wheel, and with one last exhausted puff of power, his rusty car goes up the
Doors are opened, children awakened, and one tired family stumble under the
weight of suitcases, into their little home.
Handsome, brave and strong. My Hero,
To whom I belong. My Hero
Huh! How I was wrong!
Jeremy Seymour, 1 C.
As I grow older,
I am expected to be bolder,
To do this and that, without so much chat. There is a lot to be done,
A tablespoon of work, a teaspoonful of fun. I wish I could stay just as I am
And never have to be a man.
Stephen Tassie, 1 C.
WHO DONE IT? John Lemmon, 2A.
The gun lay empty on the floor;
No more bullets to fire.
A body lay in the open door,
Now no need to retire.
The killer, he got clean away,
Not the jail for him.
Then, the blood on the silver tray,
And the dent upon the rim.
Why no used cartridges
in the gun ?
Why no shells in the man ?
Six bullets were in the gun,
Five holes were in the man!
All six bullets had been fired,
Where then lay the sixth ?
Detectives work till they are tired,
Yet still, where is the sixth ?
Now the body lay six feet under.
Buried are the answers, too.
Now the killer is home and dry,
The quest is left to you.
THE UNSPOKEN JUSTICE Jeremy Seymour, 1.C.
On the peaceful tranquility of the Guernsey beach the sun's rays beat down
mercilessly on the prone bodies bathed in sun-tan oil. Other families
munched their sandwiches and threw stones into the gently lapping sea, which
the weather-beaten shingle. Gleaming yachts glided swiftly past, cleaving
their way through the deep blue water, like a knife cuts through butter.
Everything was peaceful. Suddenly, a booming shot whiplashed through the
monotony of the Guernsey beach. Women started screaming, and men craned
their necks to get a view of what was happening. There was a splintering of
glass, and a terrified, whimpering wailing came from the jeweller's shop
across the dusty road. People started murmuring as an alarm bell rang, its
clanging warning echoing around in the rocks. This was followed by another
shot, and suddenly almost unexpectedly-a masked man, brandishing a sawn-off
shotgun and carrying a bulging sack, entered into the sunlight and ran
across the road. Everything went silent as all eyes turned towards the
Suddenly, the chug-chug of a fishing trawler broke the silence as it came
around a bend in the rocks. A threatening growl rose as the people realised
that h( was escaping on to the trawler. A few rose to their feet and walked
forward a few paces. The escaper was still running, but he kept looking over
his shoulder as more and more people rose to their feet, cutting off his
escape route. Men, women an( children, all were on their feet now,
advancing, advancing. The fugitive began t( panic, and began backing away
from the approaching people, only to find he was falling into a crush of
oncoming bodies. The escaper pulled the trigger of his shotgun and threw it
away in anger and disgust when the result was a resounding useless click.
"Get away, get away!" he screamed, his voice pregnant with emotion an(
fright. He fell on his knees, whimpering, wailing, pleading, as the jeweller
had done The mass of bodies were almost trampling him, somebody raised a
piece of woo( and brought it down on his unprotected face. A scream of
agony, and then silence ... silence.
A full programme of films has been shown covering topics of both general an(
academic interest. Many of these films were suitable for boys of any age to
understand( and this policy will continue in future.
The practical meetings have been well attended on occasions, but only a fev
boys make full use of the opportunity for performing additional experiments.
Hayden gave a talk entitled "A Mathematical Approach to the Atom", and King
spoke on subnuclear particles. It is hoped that in future more boys will
give talks to the society on aspects of the subject which particularly
PART 2 of the Bourne 1970 is continued HERE