THE SCHOOL MAGAZINE

Christmas 1960

HALLUCINATIONS by Keith Dickinson (2R)

He thought he saw a sputnik
Flying to the moon,
He looked again and found it was
A twopenny balloon.

He thought he saw a buffalo
Charging round the house,
He looked again and found it was
A tiny light-brown mouse.

He thought he saw an elephant
Upon the chimney piece,
He looked again and found it was
A letter from his niece.

A LONELY BEACH by Vera Moxon (Form VI)

On the north coast of Cornwall there is a rocky beach inhabited only by seagulls. This beach is called Bedruthan Steps and its name is derived from there being huge masses of rock along its length, the legendary steps of the Giant Bedruthan. The beach is sheltered by high rocky cliffs in which are hewn nearly two hundred steps. This is the only path to the beach, which consequently receives few visitors.

The massive rocks which have sprung up from Bedruthan's footsteps stand firm and resolute in a turbulent sea, watched over by cliffs which are clothed in a lacy mantle of sea-pinks.

At low-tide there is a fine sandy beach, with numerous rock pools with much evidence of the sea's visit. Small fish are left behind much to the delight of the lazy seagulls who find an easy meal. As the sea leaves the rocks naked, limpets, mussels and sea anemones are visible. When touched, the limpets cling tightly to their rocky home and the rocks do not fail them. Sometimes crabs are left on the beach and they scuttle about, looking for protection from their enemies. This they can easily find in the gloomy caves, hidden among the cliffs. These caves stretch far under the cliff and one wonders if part of the sea were trying to escape from the rest as it rushes and gurgles through. There are many niches in the walls of the caves where pebbles have been tossed by the uncaring sea. If you venture into the caves you will soon be in total darkness. The rock is so dark and the sun never penetrates these great caverns. There is the sound of water splashing down over the jagged rocks as it runs into the brightness of the open beach.

As you again reach the open beach, it seems like a different world. The sun gives its welcome warmth and light and again you hear the raucous caws of the sea gulls.

These birds are surprisingly tame. They will fly in circles, watching you holding a slice of bread. When you throw it they will catch it, in mid-air, and continue to fly around, watching, waiting. The sea gulls give the beach an air of mystery with their mournful cries and their wheeling movements like paper caught by the breeze and lifted high into the sky.

On the sand, shells, of all colours, shapes and sizes lie, some crushed by the ever-moving sea, like old clothes left lying about by an untidy schoolboy. When the sea comes back after its outing it cuts off the rocks from the rest of the beach and they are islands, their only visitors are the birds, hurrying about their business, to and from their nests, hidden among the folds of the cliff's mantle, which gives protection not only to the cliff but also to the birds.

As the sun sinks slowly over the Atlantic, it lights a path across the sea, and the sea gulls quieten and return to these nests, their way lighted by shafts of sunlight between the great rocks made by the giant Bedruthan.

THE SEA AND ALL THAT THEREIN IS by Haig Chimchirian

The sea is a boundless territory of infinity full of canyons and caves, fishes and flowers, wrecks and reefs - this is the treasure hidden beneath its angry countenance. Yet, beneath this terrific turbulence, a wave of serene calm - an unknown law - dominates this world without end. A definite civilisation exists - kings, jesters, out-laws, the public, even houses and hotels.

The kings reign because of ancient rights given to them by nature - this is the beauty of this world, everything is accepted and works without argument, but with trust. The stream-lined shark moves with such ease and purpose that it can be seen that a regal influence dominates his life. All his population part when he passes - partly through loyalty, mainly through fear, for he is dangerous. The elephantine whale is the exact opposite of the shark. His fat pompous body, his continuous restlessness, give him an air of arrogance. He doesn't have the ruthless instinct of the shark, and prefers to perfect himself more than anything - vain, but kings can afford to be!

A jester is very important to life, for he takes away tension. Unlike the majestic monarchs, the far from doleful dolphin is a jocular jester. The dancing dolphin; the diving dolphin; even the dynamic dolphin, cannot reveal to any extent his very attractive act. His face demands that his character be friendly - even to man.

The criminal adds variety of a strange type to this colourful world for he is never seen as the others. The skulking shell-fish carries his own cell - no trial and jury. In fact a self-confessed and self-exiled unknown. The crime - unknown.

The public have no colour bar - you can wear your scales without fear of degradation. Food is all free but, to make life an adventure, alertness is all-important for a stomach may enclose those who are lazy. Warm and cold seas are provided and, if a long journey has to be undertaken, a tide can be used to great advantage - of course avoiding nets from the outer world is a hazard which must be expected.

The population of the sea finds its home in caves, coral reefs and wrecks. I should think this aquarian world must wonder in amazement at the weird "meteors" which break through the "liquid barrier" and descend into their world.

God decided life should exist in this environment; the Bible wrote about it; we wonder about it, and its inhabitants live as usual, depending on each other for survival.

LAST PERFORMANCE by R. Lockyer (3D)

It was the day I visited London. I saw the Tower and London Bridge; went up the Monument and saw everything a visitor was supposed to see. I had been living in Surrey since I was eight and it had taken me fifteen years to get back to my birth-place, so I "lived it up" just a little. Two double scotches heavier and nine and sixpence lighter, I made my weary way to a "tube" station. By this time, the pleasant day had given way to a cold, black night. After buying a ticket for Baker Street, I became the only occupant of a stuffy carriage. I am not a good traveller at the best of times, and after the drinks, the journey made me feel very ill. So I got out at the next station and strolled back to the river.

The cold, night air soon made me feel better, but as I was about to start for home again, I heard something very out of place. It was a violin. Picking up speed, I got to where the sound was coming from in a few minutes. An old man was solemnly playing a beautiful melody. His fingers moved with the precision and grace of a concert artist. Slowly his notes climbed higher until their high pitch stood out from the noises of the river, almost as if they were solid.

Then, seeing me, he stopped and said, "Good evening." This courtesy was rather a surprise to me as I had expected to be rebuked for my curiosity. "Good evening," I replied. Seeing my rather blank stare, I suppose he realised that I wanted to know what he was doing. "I see you find it odd to find someone playing a violin by the river at night," he said, drawing his thick black overcoat tighter around him. "Well, it's simple," he continued, "you see since I played this violin for a living. My name by the way is Ian Waldeck." At this point I remembered reading in the papers what magnificent concerts he was giving, but that must have been ten years ago.

"Well," he went on, "I was involved in a car crash some years ago and my left hand was crushed. It's taken me several years to get it back to anything like my previous standard. I come back occasionally to London, the scene of my major successes, out of pure nostalgia."

"I think I understand," I murmured.

"Oh no you don't," he said, "There's a far more human reason for my coming here tonight. The hospital bills sapped my savings; I have nowhere to sleep and no means to pay for my next meal, and the benches by the river are better than nothing." Seeing me reach into my pocket, he said angrily, "No, I won't take charity".

"If you're so short of money," I said, "why not sell your violin?"

"Sell my 'Strad'!" he screamed, "I won't part with that till my dying day!" With that he walked off into the darkness.

A few minutes later I heard a dull splash, and thinking no more of it, walked on trying to find a means of getting home. Realising I was going away from an underground station, I turned and walked in the same direction as the old man. Just as I was about to walk away from the embankment, I saw something large floating on the tide. I lit a match to see what it was and the light revealed it was a large, black overcoat. As the river carried it by me, I saw, bobbing solemnly behind it, a violin.

A WET DAY by S. D. Wells (1K)

As I walked along I wondered was a wet street beautiful or was there no beauty in it at all. I looked to see.

Looking around I saw many people walking along looking dismal and dreary. I noticed a woman and a child pushing their way through an ignorant crowd waiting to get on a bus. I also noticed other women drenched to the skin with rain, and all trying to get home the quickest way possible.

I then walked into the park. I saw a little girl running home. I walked further along, dodging the large blobs of rain falling from the trees. It was not all dreary. The little birds were singing and chirping as they enjoyed themselves in the rainbow puddles; even the flowers seemed to be brighter and fresher.

Thinking back, the women with their shopping baskets had gaily coloured raincoats and also the little girl who ran through the park was smiling.

So a wet day isn't always dreary.

THE SQUIRREL byJanet Bloomfield (1K)

When summer comes a squirrel's life
         is such a busy one;
Building up his larder for the winter days
         to come.

He finds a hollow in a tree
         and settles down to sleep.
Waking up occasionally just to have
         a peep.

When the trees and grass are green again,
         The squirrels will awake;
To enjoy the freedom of the fields
         And lots of fun to make.

CAVE PAINTINGS by Janet Bloomfield (1K)

Drawings have been discovered in the depths of some caves. They are mostly pictures of animals such as bulls, wild horses and deer. They were splendidly, but roughly, drawn. They were covered in colours like brown, red, yellow, black and white. One day a Spanish gentleman and his little girl were exploring a cave at Altamira (in the North of Spain) when his little girl told her father that she saw some pictures of bulls and other animals down at the bottom of the cave. This little girl had made a wonderful discovery. Since than many other drawings have been found. Cave paintings are very important to us. They are one of the ways in which we know how the Stone Age men lived. They show us how they hunted, what they hunted and what kinds of weapons they used for fighting.

CHRISTMAS by L. Hammans (3B)

Christmas time, and all the fun,
Of friends, and laughter in the air,
Presents for each and everyone
Lots of holly everywhere.

Decorations, coloured lights
Upon the Christmas trees,
Cold, crisp days and starry nights,
Happy times are these.

Turkey, pudding and mince pies,
Paper hats, nuts and sweets,
What a feast before your eyes,
With all these lovely treats.

THE SHIPWRECK by K. R. Noble (3D)

The ship came sailing o'er the sea
When the captain did espy,
A mermaid fair, with golden hair,
And a twinkle in her eye.

The mermaid fair sat combing her hair,
When the captain got a shock.
For in front of that ship
Was a thing like a chip
But was really a very huge rock.

The next day came,
And the mermaid got the blame;
For the ship had gone,
Disappeared like a bomb.
Not a spar to be seen,
Not the sight of a sail,
So that is the end of my terrible tale.

EXPLORERS IN SPACE! by Michael Watts (2R)

A rocket flies up to the moon,
I think we will be up there soon,
Sputniks flying into space,
Flying to some unknown place.
I wonder what will be on Mars,
Or further still beyond the stars.
I wonder if I will be there soon,
Walking about upon the moon.
Yes! it looks a marvellous place,
Way up there in the depths of Space!

G. C. E. by P. Ryan (3D)

They take the mock and pass it well,
But still they shake and look unwell.
They sweat and revise as though locked in a cell,
Then comes the day and they hear the bell.

The teachers pace the length of the hall.
The entrants wait till they hear the call.
In they march and their bodies shiver.
Down they sit and their legs all quiver.

The envelope opens, the papers appear.
They try to smile while death be so near.
They clench their fists and they feel a tear.

The exam goes on as they search their minds.
Is it this? Is it that?
I knew it off pat.

It's all over and now they wait.
Have they passed or not? What is their fate?
At last the results: success at last -
They can leave school and forget the past.

FIREWORK NIGHT

by M. Houghton (2L)

Whoosh, up went a rocket, Rrrrrrr now a flying saucer Eeeeeeeee and another. BANG - a banger explodes. Crackle Ssss Pop a tropical storm firework is lit. Ftzzz BANG, another banger. BOOM, Hissss, Boom, up goes a Bombshell. Psssss a Catherine wheel ends it all.

by T. Hanley (2L)

The crackling of the bonfire; big bangs and violent screams, and a loud hissing. Coloured stars bursting overhead and coloured fountains of flame, fireworks with a loud report, big columns of white stars and a pungent smell. The flash of the bangers and the whoosh of a rocket taking off; boiling hot sparks falling all over the place and quick bursts of fire from jumping crackers.

by Robert Edmund (2L)

The rocket shattered the window. My dad started doing the war-dance. Bang went a banger. The night was lit up by a rocket. A jumping cracker started playing its rôle. The sound of an "aeroplane" rose into a crescendo. Dad by this time had cooled down and went to look at the window, on the way putting his foot in a bucket of water.

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