PITSMOOR
Travelling up through the gloomy surroundings of Burngreave, towards Pitsmoor,
one can see the rows of streets lined with the dim 1920 houses. Pitsmoor is on
the top of the basin cut out by the River Don many years ago. Beyond Pitsmoor
are the districts of Shirecliffe, Southey Green and the eastern parts of
Hillsborough; forming a vast plateau which was once covered with forest, but now
is a maze of roads, housing estates and an odd park here and there.
One of the steepest hills in Pitsmoor is Rutland Road. When coming under the
railway bridge at the bottom on a Number 9 bus, the eyes are met by a second
Everest. It looms up at you as if to say 'I dare you to come up me."
If a foreigner (to Pitsmoor, that is) was told there was a heliport at Pitsmoor,
he would be disappointed when he saw the real thing. All it is is a flat expanse
of grass with a square of tarmac in the centre with a white H painted on. There
are two poles for windsleeves to be attached to when a helicopter does land.
There are no buildings whatsoever.
The Stanley Tools factory is also in Pitsmoor; they're famous for precision
tools.
Pitsmoor is connected by many bus services, namely: 33, 75, 20, 97, 98. 61, 63,
120, 8 and 9. Most buses leading to cities north of Sheffield pass through
Pitsmoor.
A wide variety of churches may be found in Pitsmoor. The Roman Catholic, on
Burngreave Road; the Methodist, on the corner of Burngreave Road and Christ
Church Road; the Anglican, on Pitsmoor Road; and also the Kingdom Hall of
Jehovah's Witnesses on the old Pitsmoor Road.
One of the few sundials left in Sheffield is to be found on the wall of the
house in Abbeyfield Park. The house used to belong to a rich man, who also owned
5 acres of land (which is now Abbeyfield Park).
Immediately outside Abbeyfield Park's main gates stands the original toll house.
The toll gate is not there any more but used to stretch across the main road. S. MAYOR 2R
On the discovery of a connection between dogs and trees
There was a young boy at Firth Park,
Who had a small dog he called Mark,
While eating his tea He said, "What's on a tree?"
And the little dog answered, "Bark! Bark!" A. CABAN IW
THE LOCAL DERBY
The gates are drawn back and turnstiles begin their sharp clicks as the first
bundle of loyal and enthusiastic supporters wander in. They mainly consist of
small boys, anxious to secure a place at the front so that they can see
something of the game, which is yet a long time away. The stands are yet still
empty and wait for the pushing jostling, screaming mob which will in a while
converge upon them.
Meanwhile the young enthusiasts content themselves with munching apples,
drinking pop, chasing each other and shouting. They become more subdued,
however, when the older enthusiasts come in, large brightly coloured banners
held aloft, and the sound of many tones of rattles echo round the ground.
The crowd now begins to trickle in at a steady pace, all shapes and sizes and
wearing clothing from multi-coloured sweaters, occupied by daring young females,
to stooping, thickly scarved old men with cloth caps and dark, heavy raincoats.
Teddy boys with tight trousers and studded leather jackets slouch in, with
cigarettes protruding from the sides of their mouths. They mix with immaculately
dressed clergymen wearing white collars end Sunday trilbies.
By now the young enthusiasts are hoping against hope that the game might start
early for some reason, for they are thoroughly bored.
Small clusters form in the stands and dark, formidable-looking policemen appear
as if from nowhere, casting a wary eye on groups of chanting, banner-topped
teenagers. Supporters of the different teams have shouting matches and two
daring youths dash onto the pitch, hair and scarves fluttering behind them, to
stake a claim to the centre spot for their team by two large balloons. After a
wild native war-dance round the balloons, they dash off just as quickly, to be
caught in the capable hands of two tall, solid-looking rnen-in-blue, and are
escorted off, arms flapping madly.
Kick-off isn't far away and excitement begins to mount. Lighters by the hundred
flick on and off, one after another in the dark stands, and a mist of blue smoke
engulfs the slightly quieter gentlemen sitting down.
Excitement comes to a head as the St. John's Ambulance men and then the players
pop out one by one from the tunnel. Banners are waved and shaken wildly up and
down, scarves are held above heads, and some clapping can be heard above the din
and general pandemonium, from the more refined parts of the ground.
The two goalkeepers are greeted and duly engulfed in streaming white toilet
rolls. The guardians of the goal scrape the paper from the back of the net,
bundle it up and leave it for some poor constable to cart off, while a small
group at the back are chuckling wickedly to themselves.
The old know-alls start discussing the men in the teams and the prospects of the
game. They are all certain of the result before the ball has been touched and
only bother coming for a chat with their mates.
The ball is placed on the centre-spot, the coin is tossed and the teams line up.
A shrill whistle is heard and all kinds of people from all walks of life centre
their attention on one common thing, the ball.
It is gently tapped from its resting place and the game commences. P. BOWNS 4A
IN AND OUT OF SCHOOL
Council for Education in World Citizenship Sheffield member-schools held a series of interesting meetings this year.
The most popular was the symposium on Vietnam, held one evening last September
at Friends' Meeting House. American students spoke for and against American
involvement in the war and there was lively discussion afterwards, when
refreshments were served.
Other discussions and illustrated talks have focussed on: "The Problem of German
Re-unification", "Working in Africa with U.S.0." and "In Ghana with a U.N.
Technical Aid Mission". In February, Mr. Tooze, the Headmaster of Sheffield
Blind School, gave a very informative and humorous talk on his work with blind
children in Malawi.
The Annual Dance was the usual success, at Abbeydale Boys' Grammar School, in
March.
We hope that many more Sixth Formers will interest themselves in international
affairs, through C. E. W. C..
M. T. GLOVER. U6A (L)
JOTTINGS FROM THE LIBRARY We wish first to welcome new members: Barber 6A(M), Creed L6A(L), Richardson
L6A(M), Roberts L6A(M) and Wharton 5A, and our guardian, Mr. Hydes. We say
goodbye to Mr. Humphreys and Dearden. Bulson has instructed me to quell the
rumour that the Library funds provide fodder for him, or L.S.D. for others. The
Library is moving with the Times (and we wish to know who removes our copy?) as
can be seen from the number of books - 6,000 - but if McKay, G. brought his back
the number would be 7,000. We do not know why we bought the T.V. set, for R. H.
McKay frequently gives us his own Hector Heathcote show. Harry Roberts is not in
the Library, but someone is hiding (?) there.
UNUS E LIBRARIO
MATHEMATICS CLUB The Club continues to flourish, and affords opportunities to boys of all age
groups to extend their interest in the subject of Mathematics, especially in a
practical way.
The focus of this club is Room 25, each Thursday evening throughout the year at
4.0 p.m.. Pascal's Triangle, the Golden Ratio, Fibonacci Series, Cycloids and
Plaited Polyhedra, together with other interesting topics are sources of great
interest and practical work.
The main projects have recently been the
building of a transformer, the development of a small digital computer and the
construction of a large harmonograph.
Simple electrical circuits continue to fascinate the younger boys and the Club
especially welcomes boys with an interest in electronics. J. M. MOFFATT 6Sc.2
STAMP CLUB
The re-formation of the Stamp Club was very popular and was greeted with an
enthusiastic response. The organisers, Mr. Hydes and Mr. Butler, have worked
hard in getting the Club running efficiently and in providing interesting
lecturettes. We have made use of the epidiascope and also become affiliated to
the Association of School Stamp Clubs. A monthly magazine helps us to keep up to
date with the latest issues. A thematic competition was held. We are looking
forward to further interesting developments. R. WADE 3A
DRAMATIC SOCIETY
This year's School plays in a double bill, were "A Man of Destiny" by George
Bernard Shaw and "A Sleep of Prisoners" by Christopher Fry. In these I. R.
Bowater and T. Palmer gave what were for us their farewell performances.
CHEMISTRY FILM SOCIETY
The Society has continued to flourish; and audiences of twenty to thirty boys
and interested -members of Staff have enjoyed a varied programme of films in the
"backroom cinema" of Room 56.
Films have been restricted to those on free loan from large industrial firms and
associations. Nevertheless, the forty and more films that have been shown have
been sufficiently interesting to ensure packed houses throughout the year.
Topics covered included Radiochemistry, Chemical Industries, Glass, Plastics,
Cars, Geology and even Insurance. Of these undoubtedly the favourites were those
on guns and game-shooting - "It's Your Pigeon", "More Pheasants" and "Powder and
Shot" - an excellent series by I.C.I., which should be big audience-pullers next
season.
Shows are on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday at lunchtime from 12.20 p.m. to 1.0
p.m. and boys of all years are welcome. Mr. Prince has organised the programme
over past years, but next season it is hoped to arrange a committee of Sixth and
Fifth Form boys to do this. A.P.
INTERIOR SUBSIDENCE. Were I to reel
I would slide
into a world
of hollow vision and dark passage
weeping lights and paved stone reflections;
and then I would fall
and none would recognise my falling;
it would be the world and I;
and a door, yawning
into a room without identity,
and the air, gaping
and flowing through,
and through and I would shout,
and the paneless, painful windows would be a chorus,
and mankind would be
streaming past,
walking through their doors
while I laughed and cried
with the empty street beyond
and, embracing hell,
was drawn once more
to the earth.
M. T. GLOVER U6A(L)
Pilgrimage to the National Physics
Laboratory
That shrine of English physicists, the N.P.L., is situated in Teddington near
London and as the visit was due to start at half-past one in the afternoon we
had to set off early - very early. We (a polite word for L.6.Sc.) met at the
City Hall at half-past five on a cold, windy morning, quite surprised to find
that this hour actually existed and was not just a hypothetical number invented
by some cunning scientists.
I arrived there to find a few fellow travellers already waiting and was greeted
with long faces, drooping eyelids, chattering teeth and an air of general
apathy. Everyone was murmuring offensive words about the time and the cold,
which fell on sympathetic ears until someone, obviously full of his sunshine
breakfast, announced that we would miss the physics lesson.
"Quite so, quite so," was the ensuing
response after some contemplation and eyelids at last began to retreat and
smiles began to flicker across once-doleful faces. By this time everyone had
turned up and we were offering forecasts as to the degree of decrepitude of the
coach we were waiting for when a sleek, gleaming machine turned into Barker's
Pool.
"Can't be ours," was the resulting outcry. "It's too good." However, ours it
was, so we all piled in.
The first few hours passed calmly enough, most people taking a nap and Saunby
cracking jokes in the back seat, most of which were about Diddy people and
tickling sticks. We stopped at Baldock for something to eat, much to the
satisfaction of the owner of the café, which we nearly cleaned out of food.
We carried on to London and had lunch at Ealing after searching for a parking
space for half an hour. The next hour or so was spent viewing, talking about and
talking to the local 'scenery'.
Thus refreshed we arrived at the N.P.L.
We found the place to be a quiet collection of buildings with neatly mowed lawns
in-between and ornamental trees dotted everywhere. There are so many departments
that we could only see a few of them, but those we did see were very
interesting. One very large building was used for developing lasers and masers,
which incidentally were first invented there, and we were shown how they work.
This was followed by the metals-testing section, which contained many ingenious
machines to make life simpler for the testers. Upon leaving this section Mr.
Harrison was surprised to see a young man from the N.P.L. greet him very warmly
and shake him by the hand. A look of anxiety changed to pleasure as the young
man introduced himself as Mr. J. Hird, an old boy of the school who left about
eight years ago.
Further on, we were introduced to the N.P.L.'s computer, which was the first to
be built in England, and was so clever that Carley could not beat it at noughts
and crosses, and so fast that it could measure people's reactions to a
thousandth of a second. Next stop was the Standards Dept., where machines were
found that measured to within a thousandth of a per cent.
While coming out of the Standards Dept, we saw a signpost which read "Newton's
Apple Tree." Behind this were a few withered branches about the size of the
average Sheffield dandelion. A left-wing member of our party was heard to say
something about pandering to American tourists, and in any case, nobody believed
that our beloved Newton could ever crawl under this tree, never mind have an
apple drop on his head from it. However, we were later assured that this was
just an offshot of an offshot of the original, which signalled more murmurings
from our left-winger.
We left the place under a shower of literature about jobs offered there and
rain; the journey home being largely uneventful with R. H. McKay predictably
arguing with himself about Vietnam and everyone else singing.
Barker's Pool was gained at a fairly late hour, it being at least half-past ten
judging from the groups of inebriated gents singing unmelodious praises to a
Belisha beacon half-way down High Street; we parted company and headed home
ready for a long sleep after such a long day.
I would like to take this opportunity to point out that the trip took place
during the school year previous to this, and also to thank Mr. Harrison on
behalf of everybody for all his behind-the-scenes work which made this trip
possible. M. R. STONE. 6Scl.
UNKNOWN DISASTER "All torpedo tubes loaded, sir," came back the answer on the address system.
The First Officer came running up the bridge ladder.
"What on earth's going on?' he muttered.
"I don't know," said the Captain. "I just don't know."
Meanwhile the huge land mass approached the submarine. A door opened and a scoop
emerged to take hold of the submarine as if it were a top and pull it into the
interior of the mass. Robot Cutting Unit Two moved into the testing chamber and
began to saw the submarine in half. As the halves fell apart, arms reached out
to hold them. Giant tweezers extracted the forty creatures from the submarine
and deposited each in a chute leading to the lab where he was to be tested.
The screen lit up and Doctor One's face appeared. "Specimens' reaction to
concentrated sulphuric acid. Specimens turned black and dissolved emitting high
frequency screaming sounds. It can only be inferred that subject consists mainly
of water."
Doctor Two reported. "Specimens' reaction to flame. Turned black, emitting
noises, and decomposed at ten thousand degrees centigrade."
Doctor Three. "When dissected, subject emitted large volume of red liquid
consisting of haemoglobin and and various corpuscles."
"There doesn't seem to be anything worthwhile on this planet."
"No," agreed the Commander. He pressed the address system button and announced
to the crew, "There is no need to prolong our stay. Destroy all specimens at
once and prepare for take-off."
"All systems green" called the Commander.
"All motors go. Course three seven zero green," yelled the navigator.
"Lilt off. Stand by to leave atmosphere."
As the ship disappeared into space, all that remained of its visit was the
headline in "The New York Daily": SUBMARINE MISSING IN THE ATLANTIC.
CREW BELIEVED DEAD. P. E. SMITH. L6ScII
A Near Disaster
It was early morning, just after dawn, and the pilots were arriving for another
day's work. During the night there had been a frost followed by a blanket of
mist which had now lifted revealing a wet scene dotted with patches of frost. It
wasn't going to be a bad flying day, with a high ceiling. The lounge was already full of people who
had been there all night, hoping in vain to get away and at last turning to
sleep as a comfort for their disappointment. Others had only just arrived,
enquiring about early departures, and others were anxious relatives of people
who were on an overdue Trans-World Airlines flight from Canada.
The loudspeaker system blurted out a
message for the Flight Controller to go to the Control Tower. He entered the
Tower with an air of expectancy and cautiousness. The Radar operator told him
that the Trans-World plane was going to have to land without any undercarriage.
In an instant he had weighed up the situation and decided that it should land on
the grass.
All of a sudden everything came into
action: fire tenders and ambulances were called out to stand guard in case of
any accident. The Controller went to the Radar screen and studied the plane's
position and then went back to the window. Then he picked up a pair of field
glasses and began to scan the sky.
The plane was spotted about two miles away;
by now the Controller had started to talk the plane in. He told the pilot to
make a first run with 10º flaps. As the plane made its run he told him to turn
and make another run.
On his second run the pilot held the nose
tip as long as possible and then put the plane expertly onto the grass verge,
where it slowly ground to a halt. The fire tenders immediately sprayed the plane
with foam as a precaution against fire. The grass verge was cut up pretty badly
but nobody was hurt and that was the main thing.
As he entered the main lounge the pilot was
thanked with tear-filled eyes. When their relatives and friends came through the
arrival desk people burst out crying for joy. They started leaving one by one
for home. The air which was previously tension-filled had by now eased off and
there was suddenly a complete transformation into informality. R. SMITH 4A
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Sticky sweaty armpits in the slow rush,
Humid waves in still air,
Stuffy buses on constipated canals,
Herald yesterday's dinner, warmed up cold;
Wearing wet sickly gravy
To conceal the fleshless bone
To be sucked dry till gritty biscuits
Break away, lodging between your teeth
And are gratefully swilled down the throat
With slimy watery grease called gravy;
Finally terminating the longest meal
With a cunning, regular escape,
Claiming you're full, but really feeling sick
After forcing down all the slush and gristle
Which chills your spine and results in
A gullet swimming with hot spew,
Like a volcanic eruption of lava,
Venturing to challenge for freedom,
Almost winning, but withheld,
Regurgling down the drain, and
Resettling in the belly,
Till the next mealy mess. D. A. HOGG. 6A(L)
SUPERMARKETS
Supermarkets are very big places,
Baskets piled up high as you walk in.
Walk round and take what you like off the counters;
All you can hear is the noise of the adding machines
And sometimes the women talking,
Even the noise of the trolly wheels as they squeak
Up one side, down the other, of the counters.
Eyes peeled looking for good bargains.
Everything marked with neat numbers: 2/7, 4/8, 3/9, 6/2:
All these prices can be seen.
Tips piled high, boxes and baskets as well,
When a mischievous little boy comes in
And takes the bottom tin away.
Crash - a thunderous roar,
Everybody looks at him
When his mother comes in and belts him.
Then she apologises to the shopman
And all is quiet.
G. SHORE. 5W
IN THE CITY CENTRE As I walked through the city centre
I noticed most of all the cars,
And the big buildings that seemed to reach the stars.
I wandered along the city street,
Wondering whom next I'd meet.
As I walked through the city centre
I saw the fruit and paper sellers,
An old man with a stick,
An old dog and a tin can that had been kicked.
The centre of town was full to the brim
of people selling, buying and stealing;
The traffic on the road was packed like sardines
and the illuminations above were swinging.
As I walked through the city centre I wondered what to think; I wondered if
other cities
Were like this.
J. HASTINGS, P. BEAUMONT, P. DOBSON. 4W
THE 11 O'CLOCK BUS The rain begins to trickle down from the dark overcast sky as the people
pour out from the cinemas, row upon row. They shiver, they stretch, on go the
coats and scarves and now they are off into the cold dismal night as the rain,
cold and wet, begins to quicken in its monotonous fall. A boy takes his girl to
her bus-stop, to protect her with his arm from the night, avoiding the drunks
that loiter upon those dim, cobbled back streets. The bus is there, he doesn't
linger long, but off he runs into the rain, unconscious of the world around him
but still hoping to reach that bus, his only means of escape from the long walk
home to his bed.
On and on he runs through the streaming rain; a clock in the distance strikes
the eleventh hour, he spurts round the corner, and there it stands to his
delight, the very last bus.
He jumps on and off she moves, five tons of metal and machine. He climbs those
winding stairs, panting for air to reach his lungs. The only seat is at the
back, so off he sets, stumbling to keep his balance as the bus drives out of the
station, treading on those feet and ankles that protrude into the aisle as he
goes past. At last the seat is reached and his weary body sinks into it. Soon
the conductor begins to come slowly, very slowly down the long body towards him.
He has his money ready. Eventually he reaches the back and works his way along
it saying "ta" to everyone. "Shilling, please," croaks a tired voice. "Ta" comes
that overworked response as a piece of paper is thrust into his hand, and then a
large navy-blue body that seemed to surround him was gone.
He looks around him, but recognises nobody.
The floor is covered with crazy patterns where the water and dirt have mixed,
and these hold his attention for what seems like an endless length of time. He
looks up at the ceiling and sees the thousands of globules of dark-coloured
liquid formed from the tobacco smoke and the humid atmosphere, and he thinks of
stalactites. His throat is dry. Why must everybody smoke? He wipes the window
and gazes out into the cold damp night and stays like this gazing into space,
not noticing movements along the bus of people leaving, and of the machine
starting and stopping, only to be aroused by the shout of "terminus", when as if
it was like the sound of a starter's gun, he is up and off the bus, in a matter
of seconds. Cut again into the cold, damp yet clean, night air. Nearly home. S. R. CANNON. 6Sc. 2
THE NORTH SEA
It has the power of changing its colour according to the mood of the day: when
it is docile and will allow you to get your fishing tackle out for the
afternoon, the sea is a gentle shade of green; the eye can follow the rocks on
the bottom for yards before they fade away. Its mood will change to one of
irritability; the trawlers and drifters may go out on this kind of sea, but it
is then that it is likely to change its mood again. Then the sea is blue-dark,
forbidding blue, not the blue we see at Blackpool, but the blue of a sky before
a thunderstorm. If the sea decides it doesn't like fishermen and is generally
fed up with oil rigs probing its depths, it goes black, the clouds appear, the
trawlers head for home, and the, oil rigs call for the lifeboat.
I can say all this as someone who has lived by the North Sea for two years; the
part of the sea I refer to is the coast of Scotland, not the Scarborough or
Filey North Sea, but the Scottish North Sea. I lived in a small town famous for
kippers. Everybody in this town had something to do with fish, either catching,
filleting, smoking, or selling them. This town stank of fish! But the people of
this town owned their existence to the North Sea.
If you were to walk northwards, out of town, you would stumble on, or over, the
cliffs. No machine could have hewn these granite masterpieces. There were
archways, domes, pillars: all carved by the North Sea and all covered with
seagull droppings. These seagulls were the only living creatures who really
appreciated those cliffs. No artists ever painted them, Billy Graham never
preached about them, and Handel's Water Music wasn't dedicated to them. True,
there were the senior citizens of the town, sitting staring out to sea, on the
National Trust benches provided, but they had nothing else to do. Those cliffs
symbolised the strength, the character, the creative genius, the aggression and
the paternal instinct of the North Sea; for while carving out those cliffs in a
manner so aggressive that Mao Tse Tung would compare it to Lyndon Johnson, this
sea has provided a home for the seagulls.
The local populace only ever run up the cliffs to see the lifeboat going to
rescue Norwegian steamers. The sea was in a particularly vile mood one day and
sank both. This lifeboat was supposed to be unsinkable, but nothing is
unsinkable on the North Sea.
We no longer treat this ocean with the respect it demands; we are now robbing
its natural resources of oil and gas. The overfed little men in Whitehall now
think of the sea only as a "piggy bank". The sea has protested against the
fishing boats, against Norwegian steamers and lifeboats, against granite rocks,
and against oil rigs. One day I suppose it will dissolve Parliament for the last
time.
However, seagulls are not the only inhabitants of the coast; anyone who has
watched a gannet dive and emerge with a fish will know that the sea is teeming
with life. The plankton, cod, herring, and haddock abound here. I once saw a
whale washed up on the beach, a stray young whale, but still a whale. But these
are creatures which are numerous anywhere along the coast. The Scottish have
legends about the North Sea. The boy, for instance, who was caught in the nets
of a fishing boat and was convinced he was a fish. The serpents and mermaids
have a new meaning here, because all these stories are said to be true.
There are more things in the North Sea than we were ever meant to know of; our
bathyscopes and submarines tell us little. And anyway if there are people on
land, why not in the sea? The North Sea controls our lives, it surrounds us and
causes our weather. The more we probe, the angrier it will become. Perhaps it is
wiser to let nature take its course. P. RENN1E. 5A
ISLAND IN THE SUN The dark green palm trees blowing to and fro.
As it blows
Sand is blown over all the reef,
Foam appears above the surface of the sea
As rocks break through the water.
The deep silent volcano is quiet now
But if it erupted there would be no island,
Just a pile of lava and rocks,
And sand.
Nevertheless, this has not happened for two hundred years
And I hope it doesn't as it will have
Many people in tears.
Far away from shipping lanes,
Just lazing in the sun and taking in the heat,
That's the island I would like to be on.
B. LANGLEY. 4M.
ISLAND It was an island in the Pacific where I was shipwrecked after a storm;
There was no human on the god-forsaken place.
It wasn't what you'd call a holiday island,
There wasn't a lush forest to shelter from the sun.
it was rocky and very barren with a few straggly trees growing here and there.
There was, thank God, a tiny trickle of water near the summit of a pile of
rocks.
All the day when I was there I lived on fish, crabs, coconut and water and the
sun kept beating down.
I was only there for three weeks, before they rescued me,
And wouldn't have stayed there longer for all the tea in China. W.SHEPHERD.4M
THE CHURCH
The doors are ready to fall off. The heavy wooden planks forming the doors have
gone strange colours. Here and there are small holes, making a pattern to liven
things up. Large rusty hinges lurch across the doors, trying to reach the other
side, but failing and coming to a halt as a pointed terminal of various figures
and shapes of the metal.
The church faces onto a graveyard. The gravestones stand bold, although of
different shapes and sizes, fighting the now-becoming-strong weeds as they start
to climb up the only surviving landmark. Soon, very soon, the weeds will have
conquered this. The trees overhang the stones, as if to attack at any moment, to
finish this brave struggle once and for all.
An asphalt path puts the weeds in their places. With an air of supremacy it
leads the way towards the decrepit door. The smooth black path gives you a
feeling of power as you walk down it, sneering at the poverty-stricken humans at
each side of you, as you turn your nose and plough through all of them, not
caring at all what is going to happen when they rise against you. K. POYNTZ. 4A
THE MOORS No trees can be seen except for a few oaks swaying in the Spring breeze,
which shelter the small gurgling, babbling stream that runs merrily down the
hillside to cascade over the edge of a cliff into the river below. There a
Rainbow Trout jumps out of the river to catch a fly and lands with a great
splash.
A Grouse is suddenly scared out of its lair, in the large tufts of grass, by the
loud bang of a nearby shot gun. As it takes off into a panicked flight the gun
barrel sweeps round. "Crash!" the Grouse falls to the ground lifeless.
The ears of a rabbit suddenly pop up from behind a tuft of grass and the gun
goes off again, but the rabbit leaps away over the grass and plunges into its
burrow. Dark satanic boulders lie upon a knoll which has been their resting for
the lonely sheet) that roam the moors of England and Scotland all the year
round.
N.C. PARKER 2R
THE ABC OF WATER
An Abundance of water is on the earth,
Two-thirds of its surface in fact. Bulbs in the lowland countries of Europe are growing
But without water these would all die.
The Canary Islands are an important holiday resort;
The people go there in hordes to see the beautiful blue sea. Drowning is a weapon water can use:
it-uses this weapon when it is made into dirty canals
Water is made to make useful! Electricity. Fast and Free is water running to the sea. Gulls and Herrings are creatures of the sea;
Both play about in the bubbling surf. Islands are pieces of land surrounded by sea
But a Jetty is surrounded on three sides.
The Keel of a boat splashes through the water;
It enjoys the warmth of a Pacific Lagoon. Men put water to its great uses:
They give it Names like Channel, Pacific and Atlantic. Octopus is an animal that kills even men;
Octopus is one of so many that hunts its Prey in the deep. Quiet is the water far out to sea
Which houses such fish as the Rays and the Sharks.
There are Three main oceans on this earth.
The Atlantic, the Pacific and the Indian too.
The greatest treasure of the world is Under
The surface of the great deep seas;
The Victims of many storms lie drowned at the bottom.
Water is a very simple thing, H20 in fact. Xmas and Easter, Whit and New Year, none of these are
celebrated under the sea. Yachts are vessels that sail on water and are such a beautiful sight to
see.
With Zeal and zest Columbus found land:
Without him America would have stayed red. J MASON 5W
COMBING THE CUT "Peep!" went the whistle. The train gradually moved away from Platform 6 of
Sheffield Midland, leaving behind some waving parents, who were wishing us well
on our way to the Inland Waterways Cruise.
The weather was warm when we arrived in Wolverhampton, where Mr. Holmes was
waiting in khaki shorts and shirt to take us to the red, white and blue "Ernest
Thomas", which was to be our home for the next fortnight. The advance party - a
few Sixth Formers, Mr. Osborne and his friend, and our leader Mr. Holmes - had
already started cleaning up. We were shown our bunks and lockers. We were told
that we would be under way in five minutes and, sure enough, in five minutes we
were under way, with Mr. Holmes gripping the tiller. We were racing down the
green, stagnant-looking canal at 3 m.p.h.. After about 15 minutes of this dizzy
speed we heard for the first time and, to our sorrow, not the last, "Fend off
forrard", as we steamed towards the outside of a bend. It was chaos: everyone
was rushing round in a confined space, bumping into others and asking what we
had to do. But our Sixth Form friends came to our rescue and pushed us round,
using 12 ft. poles with hooks at the end.
That night, after all were nicely tucked in bed, the rain started and, boys, did
it rain! It thundered and lightened. The rain forced its way through part of the
front, so that two boys had to sleep on the floor near the galley.
Despite the fact that it rained all the next day, we made good progress,
finishing just south of Birmingham. Here the canal claimed its first victim,
Gary Shore, gaining his first two points that helped him to win the "I've fallen
in" league. This is a league for those unfortunate persons who fall in the canal
(or other wet places e.g. boating lakes). If a person falls in and only gets the
lower half of his body wet i.e. from the hips downwards, he gets 1 point, but if
he goes totally under he gets a maximum, which is 2 points. Gary won this league
with a total of 6 points, gaining the prize of 3 sets of wet clothes.
We worked out a washing-up rota, but unfortunately not a bilging rota -
unfortunately for "Bilger", alias Harry Justice. Harry, however, was always
willing to help and suited perfectly the job of bilging (pumping out the excess
of oil and water from the depths of the ship). Harry did 75% of the bilging
during the holiday, thus gaining some good muscles in his right arm. He caused
practically all the excitement during the dark nights. On the second night he
was talking in his sleep; I don't know what he said but it gave a laugh to the
boys around him. The following night he started to walk. Luckily he didn't do
any damage at all, but to be on the safe side we tied him to his bed at night
after that.
By the time we reached Warwick the next evening we were all tired after opening
twenty or so locks during the day, but none of us was so tired that he didn't
want to go to Warwick after tea.
A party with Mr. Osborne were sent to
Coventry (the cathedral town). They enjoyed themselves tremendously.
Our next outing was to sunny Stratford-on-Avon. There Gary Shore and Colin Bell
were the victims of a sinking canoe. It happened at the Stratford park boating
pool, where Gary and Colin hired out a canoe for half an hour. As everyone
knows, canoes are not, by far, the safest means of water travel. As one of them
stood up to put his change away, the canoe rocked and filled up with water; it
then, naturally, sank, leaving Gary and Colin swimming in the lake. This got
them an angry look from the boatman and a set of wet clothes, but after a good
night's rest they felt none the worse for their wet exploit.
On our travels we encountered Crick and Saddington tunnels, the latter
supposedly haunted by a headless woman or something of that nature. Through the
dark, damp, three-quarter mile tunnel our eyes were peeled, hoping to catch a
glimpse of the white-dressed, headless woman, but, unlucky as we were, we could
hear only a few shrieks coming from someone (who will remain unknown) on the
tiller.
Saturday was the day we reached Leicester and those who stayed on the boat did
just that. Many parts of the canal through Leicester were badly silted up, so
they had to punt their way through, to make it easy going. The more fortunate
party who stayed out till eleven rejoined the boat at Thurmaston.
Sunday evening, we reached Trent Junction and the lock-keeper. He was fat and a
know-all into the bargain. He moored our boat in the lock and let the water go
full force. The boat rocked like a roller coaster and then with a twang and a
thud the mooring ropes broke, leaving the boat and passenger rolling to and fro
in the lock.
Excitement never left us, what with people falling in and the damp tunnels. On
Monday it was the turn of the weather to play its part in these wet encounters.
We had another thunderstorm; only this time it did damage. It struck trees and
pylons. "Just like a dalek exterminating' - that is how the lightning was
described by the man on the tiller, Bryan Saimby. That day we said goodbye to
Mr. Osborne and his friend.
We arrived in Burton-on-Trent down on supplies, so four of us went to get some.
It was wet, so the four decided to go in shorts, plimsolls and waterproofs. They
got the supplies and some queer looks from the people of Burton. They looked
extremely funny.
The last day had come and we were all sitting quietly in the bows (except the
helmsman), thinking over the fun and excitement we had had during the past
fortnight. The cooking, done by Andy Ross, John Spain and Bryan Saunby was 99% -
the odd 1% was lost by some burnt rice pudding. The last laugh was the lock at
Autherly Junction, a tremendous drop of 4,5". This lock completed our total of
209 over a distance of 169 miles. Having been ferried, luggage and all to
Wolverhampton Station in the car, we were homeward bound. We had had many an
enjoyable evening sing-song with guitar backing by Bryan Saunby.
We arrived safely at Sheffield Midland at 1.25 p.m., completing an enjoyable
fortnight's holiday. Thanks from us all to Mr. Holmes. M. AVES 4A
NOAH AND THE MOTOR CRUISER.
NARRATOR: The year is 2000 and nearly all rich people have a large motor
boat. The reason for this is that since 1967 the sea has risen at an alarming
rate and most of the roads have become canals.
(Monday evening.)
HAM: I say, Father, have you seen
the black thunder clouds in the west? NOAH: Yes, Ham, I've been watching them on the Epimetriagtical screen. FRED: Pater, I've been working out by maths that those black clouds will
burst above us at about 2 o'clock in the morning. N0AH: How did you work that out, son? FRED: Well, Pater, the clouds are moving at two megocyclic knots per
hour,therefore their velocity is equal to pie-squared x 6.231 + 121.364, which
comes to 2 o'clock a.m,. Simple, isn't it? SID: Oh yes, it's very clear to me and apart from that the metri, no, the
metrgi-, no, the weather man has just told us on the radio. FRED: (sarcastically) Brother dearest, how would you like to see the
inside of a coffin? NOAH: Oh shut up arguing and go to bed; we are all coming up now.
(Tuesday evening)
MRS. NOAH: Oh hubby, listen to that
thunder. It's been raining non-stop since about 2 o'clock. NOAH: And you've been yacking non-stop since 2 o'clock, but I agree it is
raining heavily. I'll just go and look out of the window. (He goes to the
window.) You know how you've always wanted a swimming pool instead of a lawn?
Well you've got one now. Come and look.
(Mrs. Noah goes and joins Noah at the window.) MRS. NOAH: Yes, you're right. Look at our sunflowers. (For any
non-gardener readers, sunflowers grow to a height of about ten feet.) They're
nearly covered with water. Thank the Stars we're on a hill, above the top of
them. VOICE OF GOD: Noah this is God. I'm displeased with Earth, so I've
decided to flood it. However, you've been a good man, so I'm giving you and your
family a chance to escape in your motor cruiser called the Ark. Go now, Noah,
before it's too late. Also as well as your family I want you to take two, one
male, one female, animals of every species you can find. NOAH: But, God, there's not enough room on the Ark to take all you want
me to take. GOD: Oh no there isn't, is there? I know. I'll use my power to convert it
like the Tardis, which is about ten times bigger inside than it looks from the
outside. Go now and I will speak to you again when you've done what I've told
you to do. NOAH: All right, God. (To his wife) Come on, let's go and wake the
family. HAM: Say, Pop, what was that voice? N0AH: Later, son. Help us to wake the family, and tell them to get
dressed. FAMILY: (Three sons, two mothers, one father-in-law) What's going on,
then? NOAH: I'll tell you when we get aboard the Ark and as soon as you bring
all the pets. FATHER-IN-LAW (A bit hard of hearing): You what? We're going for a walk
in the park and bring your fishing nets? That's stupid. We would be better going
on board the Ark and taking all the pets. NOAH: Oh someone turn up his bearing aid.
(On board the Ark.)
Noah has just finished telling the family
what God had said. NOAH'S MOTHER: Son, what else can we take, apart from animals? NOAH: Well, everybody go fetch a change of clothes. (To Mrs. Noah) Do we
need food? MRS. NOAH: No, the Ark's larder has enough dehydrated food to last us a
year. MRS. NOAH'S MOTHER: But what about feeding the animals? NOAH: Ah, well, yes, I'll go and look in the hold. (Exit) HAM: Say, wonder if this will really happen? SID: If God says it will, it will. NOAH: (Returning) God's taken care of that problem. There's a huge store
of hay, etc.. Come on. Let's be going. The ground floor of our house is already
flooded.
Right full ahead both - FRED: Er, Pater NOAH: Ouiet, son. I'm trying to concentrate. FRED: But, Pater NOAH: Quiet!
(Offstage large Crunch!) NOAH: All right, wise egg. Cast off forrard! Cast off aft! Satisfied?
(Six months later.)
SID: Say, Father, we've been at sea
for six months. Right? NOAH: Right, son. SID: Well, I've been thinking. Do you think we ought to clean the animals
out? NOAH: You've got a point there, son. I wondered what the smell was. I
thought it was your Grandma Smith's cooking. GRAN. SMITH: I heard that Noah. I've a good mind not to let you have any
more of my cooking. NOAH: Good! Oh I mean "Goodness, please don't do that." FATHER-IN-LAW: Say, Noah, how many wood pigeons did we have? NOAH: We had two. FATHER-IN-LAW: I thought we did, but I've just found another fully grown
one on deck, with an olive twig in its mouth. NOAH: Where? Let me have a look. Ham, drop anchor. HAM: O.K. Pop. NOAH: (To rest of family, who have gathered on deck) This pigeon proves
that somewhere near here there's dry land with at least one olive tree on it. NOAH'S MOTHER: In that case, son, if we let, it go it will fly back
there. SID: Correct, Grandma. NOAH: Fred, go and reel in the anchor and stand by at the wheel to follow
the pigeon. FRED: O.K., Pater. HAM: (At side of Fred on bridge, looking up at sky) Look, there it goes!
Now follow at full speed ahead. (Two hours later.)
FRED: Port look-out here. Land on
the port bow. HAM: Right, Sid. Left hand down a bit. NOAH: Glory be, so it is. Praise be to the Lord. (The whole family lock
up into the sky and lift their arms, saying, "Glory be to the Father, the Son
and the Holy Ghost.") NOAH: If we're all looking up there, (he points upward) then who's
looking over there? (He points to the rapidly nearing land-mass.) Sid, look
where we're going, you big nit. HAM: (to Sid) Hard to port. One and a half reverse. No, no, put the
brakes on. No, full astern. See, everything's under control. (There is a loud
Crash!) Well, nearly under control. Anyway, it will be easier to build a house.
We just wait for the water to drop and we've got a ready-built one. MRS. NOAH: Bother to that. Let's go ashore and let the animals go. NARRATOR: And so Noah and his family were saved and when the water
dropped they started to build a new and better world. FATHER-IN-LAW: Yes, I can tell the difference between New Stork and
butter. FRED: Oh, turn his hearing aid up.
