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THE SCHOOL MAGAZINESummer 1961 |
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THE OLD HOUSE by Valerie Blyth (3H)With a terrific crashing noise, the rotted wall fell under the weight of the old man. I ran up to see if he was all right. He stood up and, turning towards me, said, "I can remember this ruin when it was a fine 'ouse. The man who owned it, Mr. Meadly, was very rich. I used to walk up this 'ere path when I was just a lad, and look into the window, and I would see all the fine ladies and men dressed in lovely clothes, dancing and singing, and I used to say to meself, 'When I grow up I am going to work hard until I own a beautiful 'ouse like this, and invite fine people to it.'" "Well, how did it become an old ruin like this?" I enquired, pointing to the black, rotted wood. "It was a long time ago," the old man replied, his eyes going misty and his face lighting up, as if he was re-living those days again. "I was asleep in me bed when I was woke by the pealing of the fire bell. I jumped out of me bed, quickly got dressed, and ran out in the street. I could see at once the flames were coming from this fine 'ouse. I ran like mad here, and saw all the engines trying to get it under control. Luckily, Mr. Meadly was abroad on business. Well, by the time the fire was under control there was nought left of this 'ouse." "What happened to Mr. Meadly?" I asked. "Well, when he came back it fair broke 'is 'eart to see his place, although he could afford a dozen such places. He went abroad and 'asn't returned since." "And did you ever buy a fine place?" I questioned. "No, I worked hard enough, but I never did have enough money. Well! I can't stand here jabbering like a lady all day. I must get back to me missus," he said, suddenly returning to the present. But as he walked off, I could hear him mumbling to himself, "It was a fine 'ouse, a real fine 'ouse." SHOES by "Modest"
A FROSTY MORNING by Brenda Foweraker (4N)Frost in the air; frost on the ground; frost everywhere! On the tops of cars there was a fine carpet of frost. The trees that yesterday looked so bare and mournful with their brown leafless branches, had not been forgotten, for they, too, had been lightly covered with frost. Stretching out his icy fingers, the frost had painted exquisite, lacy patterns on the windows.
THE SCHOOL OF FANTASY by R. Mortimer (3H)In the morning when we go to school, a smart young man with a cigarette-holder opens the door for us and salutes as we enter. A member of the staff escorts us to our classroom and makes us quite comfortable. A blonde man, wearing a green suit, the headmaster, asks me if I would deign to wear a school tie. I tell him that this is quite out of the question as a maroon tie would not go with my black leather jacket, purple shirt, lime green and black pin-striped jeans and grey suede boots. I walk into the classroom and select which lessons I shall indulge in this morning. I inform the form master (purely as a matter of form) that I am not coming to school in the afternoon, and then walk to the headmaster's room, a rugger-looking type offering to carry my case all the way. The headmaster, who is talking to the Mayor of Totsville, breaks off the conversation and they both rise as I enter. I tell them to get their hair cut, and they apologise most profusely for having offended me. As I leave, the Mayor rushes to open the door for me. It is then break, and when I get back to class a master pours a glass of lager for me and offers me a Weight from a packet of five. I say, "No thanks, old boy," and flash him a Senior from my silver and diamond-studded cigarette case. I am now rather hungry, so I nip out to my Rolls and tell the chauffeur to go to my usual haunt, the Cafe Royal. The only thing that I have against that place is that they have not yet acquired a Juke Box. After I have had a spot of lunch, I go back to school, just in time to be dismissed. Then I usually wake up with my mother telling me that if I do not put a spurt on I'll be late - UGH! A MEAL by P. Lowman (4J)
THE COWZIES by Brenda Beeson (2R)As I watched, the floorboards lifted. An army of cowzies emerged, and as I wanted to know where they were going, I followed them. They came to a valley, where one cowzie jumped on a box and addressed the others. "We must get rid of Shera Beg," he said. He was greeted by a chorus of "Hear, hear!" and "We must get rid of Shera Beg." So they marched to a little house that stood on a hill and when they raided the house they dragged away Shera Beg. He was a little, bent, old man dressed in green rags and a caflute hat. They brought him back and bundled him under the floor-boards. Then they marched under themselves, and have never been seen again. Mind you, some people say that they still hear noises from under the floorboards. A JOURNEY TO A FOOTBALL GROUND by P. Lyons (4N)The train emerged from the tunnel outside the station, and the heart of London loomed high above the railway line, which snaked its way through the frost-white Metropolis. It was strangely silent on this day of cold, cold icy winds that swept the capital and seemed to warn all those who were now tucked up in their warm beds to be on their guard against the lashing cold wind. The train was speeding towards Whitechapel, the station where I had to change trains. The frost was still on the roofs of buildings in the City, and it made a snowy-white carpet on the station platform as the train arrived at Whitechapel. "All change! All change!" cried a porter as he hurried along the platform. Up, up, up the stairs, along the corridors, down, down, down the stairs to the other platform. We were soon passing Plaistow coal yards, where huge slagheaps of coal arose from the low-lying dockland. They were covered with frost and it made an amazing sight, for I had never seen white coal before. The train drew into Upton Park Station and hundreds of people emerged from the red painted carriages of a London Transport tube train into the chill morning air. Up the steps I went, gave in my ticket, and turned right into Green Street. Ten minutes later I had arrived at the football ground. A FAIRY TALE by L. Hammans (3B)Once upon a time there was a wise old tortoise, with a long, grey beard. This particular tortoise was a very literate tortoise. He read lots of fairy tale books and in each one it averred that the tortoise could beat the hare in a race. When he asked his friends if this was so, they replied in the negative. Nevertheless, the tortoise challenged a friendly hare. Saturday was the big day. At exactly 3 p.m. all the woodland creatures lined up to watch the start. BANG - they were off, and the crowd cheered, egging the sporting tortoise on. By the time the hare had finished the 220 yards, the tortoise bad moved approximately eight feet. MORAL: Fings ain't wot they used to be. Teachers are often charged with asking funny questions. Here are a few of the funny answers that pupils have recently given: A tithe is an instrument for cutting grass. Thomas Becket was leader of the pheasants' revolt. A clause from Magna Carta: An innocent person was not to be thrown into prison without a fair trial. Alfred the Great was a very good ruler - he was called Charlemagne. Rule for making short-crust pastry: Remember always to be light-fingered. I am a zoo-keeper. I always feed the animals with another keeper. WOULD YOU REPEAT THE QUESTION, PLEASE?Q. Why was Buonaparte made a bogey in Wessex more than in other parts of the country? Q. Illustrate the meaning of the word "imperturbable." Q. Write a letter to the Water Board, complaining about the quality of your tap water. |
