Numbers of pupils in the year 1972-73 were just under 1,100; in the present year they are about 1,180. In each case we have been aware of increasing movement of population by comings and goings at all levels of the school. During every year there has been net gain, reflecting the fact that the population of Norfolk is increasing faster than the national average. It is also clear that much of this County growth has taken place within about ten miles of Norwich, with direct effects on this school.

It had been hoped that changes in educational provision in parts of the Norwich ‘fringe’ would have enabled our numbers to be stabilized. Delays for many reasons prevented this. It is clear that the chain of events starts with the National economy in two ways: tightness of money, and production and distribution difficulties which affect most items. The government decision to cut back the Rate Support Grant compelled each separate department of every local authority to retrench from plans and policies to which they were already committed. Some of the burden in Norfolk would be borne by spreading the planned maintenance and decoration over a longer period, although this is detrimental to buildings, as it would be for an ordinary householder. But, additionally, the Education Committee has been compelled to delay plans for developing such things as Library Services, and building and staff for schools for the handicapped, as well as for other things which affect us, among the more obvious school provision.

During the year 1972-73 school activities included foreign visits, exchanges with twin schools, expeditions of varying length associated with particular fields of study, wide and deep commitment in athletics, swimming and other sporting events, continued development of music in and out of school, and of drama in several forms. The curriculum has been further modified, including optional changes of syllabus in some Advanced and Ordinary Level subjects, the introduction of courses in Commerce and in Computing in years four and five, and the movement up the school of the large year-group in which French and German are on a more-or-less equal footing as the first foreign language. Examination results in the last year included 167 passes from 216 subject entries at Advanced Level, with 26 at Grade A, and 6 Distinctions in Special Papers, with five students gaining County Prizes and 57 of the 73 candidates qualifying for University grants if they so wished. At Ordinary Level, 21 extra subjects were added by candidates whose main entry had been earlier, four of these at Grade 1. No Fifth Form candidates were entered in November; the full summer entry comprised 147 candidates who entered 1,135 subjects in the GCE and 144 in the CSE. The number of passes in GCE was 800, and there were 11 Grade One CSE passes.

Despite overcrowding, and grave transport problems, most members of the community appear to have plenty of mental and physical energy. Continued tribute is paid to teaching staff, and to all those without whose background labours nothing else could take place: County Hall staff, secretaries, laboratory assistants, cooks, caretakers, cleaners and grounds men.

EDITORIAL NOTE

All the material for this magazine was written, collected and edited for production in October 1973. Unfortunately a sequence of difficulties has delayed publication until May 1974, and we fear that a number of items now read as historical records rather than news events. We apologise for this, but hope that readers will still find a great deal to interest them in this edition.

One sad event which has occurred in the interim is the death of Mr George Reeve, the man who planned and planted our school grounds. He was responsible for choosing and setting the flowers and shrubs, and sowing and tending the fields; over a long period he gave to the school his skill and devotion. He was a remarkable man, and we share in Mrs Reeve’s grief at his loss. Every spring when the masses of daffodils he planted come into flower, those of us who knew him well will remember him with respect and affection.

STAFF

The unceasing growth of the school produces increasing complexity and diversity, reflected in varied changes of staff. During the last year, Mr Phillips came and went as Assistant Caretaker; Mr (Richard) Hagger left our ground staff to work with the county mobile squad; Miss Carrey, on her marriage, relinquished her post as laboratory assistant, and was replaced by Miss Appleton who has also married and left. Long-term and invaluable help has been given by Mrs Day and Mrs Peart in the meals service, and also by Mrs Armstrong, one of our cleaners, whose work often fails to receive the recognition it deserves. Great help was given too by Miss Smith who has moved from being one of the school office team here to be the only Secretary at Brundall School. Short-term teaching help in emergencies was given by Mr Higgins, who returned to this country after long service in Africa, and later moved on to a Headship of Department in a large London School; by Mr Lewis who has moved to a similar post at Norwich high School; by Mrs Mason, Mrs Donovan, Miss Cook and Mr Cubitt.

Of the regular teaching staff, Mr Rowe moved to Norwich School; Mr Copson has moved to a joint appointment at Reepham and Melton Constable; Mr Peek has gone into business with Broads Tours; Miss Manning has taken up the Headship of Department at Wymondham School vacated by Mr Kime when he moved here in January; Mrs Lester, Mrs Johnson and Mrs Beringer each has a thriving baby.

Monsieur Giroud, with great regret that the international camp he had hoped to arrange had not proved possible, returned to his native Grenoble; Fraulein Bulach had to return to Germany in mid-year because of family bereavement and illness. This year we are pleased to have with us Senorita Romero, Fraulein Bohler and Monsieur Khalifa, who are already doing fine work.

New teachers whom we welcome are Mr Greer, who came from London in January; Mr Gibson who was formerly at Spalding; Mr Hodson who arrived from Saskatchewan ten days before term started; Mr Mitchell from Cambridge, Miss Davis from York, Miss Teggin from Keswick, Miss Sandell from a teaching post in a Forces School in Germany, and Mr A. Gamble from Keswick (not a relation of Dr D. Gamble, whom we congratulate on receiving his higher degree from the University of East Anglia). We also welcome two Mrs Turners, both here on a part-time basis, one for French, the other for Geography. Miss Chettleburgh has joined us, similarly, for Science. Although Mrs Wright has no regular teaching this year she has already been most helpful in returning to cover emergencies caused by illness, as have been Mrs Dickson, and a former pupil Graham Downing.

Mr Jay is now our Assistant Caretaker, and Mrs Rising is Assistant Secretary. An additional appointment, Workshop Technician, has become possible, and Mr Watkins started at the beginning of term. Mr Spalding has joined us in place of Mrs Dent, to deal with the Combined Laboratory.

There is no doubt that the qualities of professional approach and personal concern of all members of staff are of the highest. Parents often individually mention to me particular causes of gratitude, and these I am glad to express in this public way to former and present colleagues in all school departments.

MUSIC

The musical year was under way very quickly with an invitation from the Bishop of Norwich to play for the Diocesan Service last September (1972). The School Orchestra provided forty-five minutes of introit music. Following this performance we then received an invitation to play at the Rotarian Service in the Cathedral on October 8^th 1972, a service to commission Paul Broadhead, an old boy of the school, for missionary work in New Guinea. At this service the Orchestra provided half an hour of introit music, and later in the service the School Choir sang the Jubilate Deo of Gabrieli, accompanied by an eight-part choir of brass.

The Vicar of Heacham Parish Church asked if we could perform in his Church on Sunday, November 5^th. A very successful programme was enjoyed by all, and a splendid tea was provided by the ladies of the Parish.

Our Carol Service was held in Norwich Cathedral on Friday, December 15^th. The service began with a fanfare of brass playing from the organ gallery, and together with the seven lessons and carols, the Choir sang two Christmas Motets ‘Adoramus Te’ and ‘Cantate Domino’ by Monteverdi, and the Madrigal Group sang the carols ‘O Little One Sweet’ and ‘Jesus Christ the Apple Tree’.

The senior musicians of the school spent the spring term preparing for the production of the opera ‘Ruddigore’, a review of which appears elsewhere in the magazine. The summer term musical event was a new departure, a Light Music Programme. This proved to be a great success and all our senior musicians are to be congratulated, for most of the programme was left to them to organise and rehearse. The results were startling: the highlights were a brilliant performance by Colin Brind on the trombone of ‘The Acrobat’, and an original composition by Andrew Hubbard ‘How the Camel Got Its Hump’, sung by Tracy Webb and Colin Brind with the composer at the piano. The Staff Quartet sang two amusing ‘Songs From Yale’, and Colin Tibbenham arranged ‘Scarborough Fair’ for the School Choir and Instrumental Ensemble. Rossini’s famous ‘Cat Duet’ was sung by Valerie Graves and Colin Tibbenham, and caused considerable amusement as both singers imitated wild cats. The Wind Orchestra added solidarity to the programme with numerous pieces from their repertoire, the highlights being the ‘Light Cavalry Overture’ and ‘The Blue and the Grey’.

The success of the Wind Orchestra had been evident to all, and we would like to thank Mr Charles King for all his hard work in founding this group which numbers about 52 pupils, and steering it through its early stages during the last two years. We all regret his departure to Coventry, but wish him well in his new post. His successor is Mr Roy Watkins, the peripatetic teacher for Woodwind, and we look forward to hearing the band under his baton.

Already this term the pupils have given two concerts, the first was on September 14^th when we were invited to play for the inaugural concert of the Festival of Flowers and Music at Thorpe St Andrew Episcopi. The First Orchestra played selections from the ‘Water Music’ by Handel, and the Miniature Symphony by Wilkinson. The School Choir and Wind Orchestra also performed the light music programme at the United Reformed Church in Jessop Road, Norwich. As the magazine goes to print we are preparing for our annual Carol Service in Norwich Cathedral on Tuesday, December 18^th, and for our next Opera production, ‘The Mikado’, which will take place on March 29^th and 30^th, and April 2^nd and 3^rd 1974.

Lower School music has developed enormously during the last two years, and the Second Orchestra numbers 45 pupils, with 36 String players. The standard of playing is good, and this term we have heard them on many occasions accompanying the hymn for Lower School assemblies. The Orchestra in its present form made its debut at the Lower School Concert held in the last week of the summer term. It opened the programme with a selection of short pieces, including the famous ‘Schwanda the Bagpiper’. The Lower School Choir, trained by Mr Copson who has since left us to take up a post as Music Master at Reepham, and splendidly. ‘Jonah Man Jazz’ was the principal item for this choir, and we are grateful to Miss Teggin for all the time she gave to the preparation of this excellent dance musical. This term we have had the pleasure of welcoming her to the music staff. This term the choir are preparing for their usual performance in St Andrew’s Hall in early December for the combined schools’ ‘Festival of Carols’, the School Carol Service, and the County Area Festival to be held in March next year.

Recorder playing in the school has achieved great popularity, largely due to the efforts of Mrs Aslin, who unfortunately was unable to be with us this year. The pupils under her guidance have achieved excellent results in the Trinity College examinations and we congratulate Anne Thompson and Elizabeth Myers particularly. We are happy to see our recorder players taking part in the Triennial Festival performance of Britten’s ‘Noye’s Fludde’ in Norwich Cathedral during October this year. Special thanks go to Jane Bardwell, an Upper Sixth form pupil who has taken over the recorder coaching this term.

We take this opportunity of congratulating Margaret Allison on her very high distinction for Grade V Associated Board Examination, and Colin Brind for his fine achievement in being awarded the ARCM during the summer holidays.

Everyone looks forward to our future concerts and performances, and to an ever-increasing number of pupils taking part in the musical life of the school.

A ‘RUDDIGORE’ TO SCORE THE LAUGHS

The following review and photograph appeared in the ‘Eastern Evening News’. We reprint them by kind permission of the Editor.

The comedy of ‘Ruddigore’, the Gilbert and Sullivan send-up of Victorian melodrama, seldom comes so easily and so consistently as it does in Thorpe Grammar School’s production this week.

This is a tribute to every aspect of the production because the genial spirit could not shine so well amid inefficiencies.

If, last night, we missed some words and notes, inevitable when the singers are young and the voices are at the beginning of development, the performance was a joy for its style, wit and its personalities.

This was as much true of the chorus as of the principals. How that corps of bridesmaids reacted to their shocks and their joys! And if asked for nothing more, how smilingly alive they were!

TRIO

The production has the benefit of an excellent 35-piece orchestra which is a big band to assemble but abundantly worthwhile in the body it gives to the music.

The conductor and producer are the same man, Mr G. Edison Hall, which is, no doubt, an important reason why everything coalesces so happily. He has a co-producer, Mr E. Hills, and an executive producer, Mr J. Balls, and the arrangement pays off handsomely in all-round assurance.

Andrew Hubbard with excellent speech and expressive face carries interest in all he does as the timid hero and Mark Newman is a very personable half-brother, dancing the hornpipe with great good humour. Again, how the bridesmaids showed enjoyment of that!

Tracy Webb, with roses in her cheeks, is delightfully crisp and prim as Rose Maybud and sings with a strong soprano.

The range and variety of Linda Roberts’ portrait of Mad Margaret is among the best things of all. Apart from doing a fine old maniacal laugh in the ‘mad’ scenes she brings subtle touches of humour to the quietened reconciled, Margaret.

CLARITY

Her dance with the reformed Sir Despard – Colin Brind doing a very effective change from melo-dramatic villainy to unfailing good will – is a fine example of the comic uses of gravity.

The Ghosts High Noon number comes off beautifully, greatly due to the clarity and attack of Colin Tibbenham’s Sir Roderick but also due to the efficiency of the production in placing the chorus.

Valerie Graves’ Dame Hannah is very easy on the eye and ear, being given an elderly feeling without tiresome caricature.

The professional bridesmaids of Helen Tooke and Penny Sandford do their duties with aplomb and John Leech neatly fills the part of Old Adam Goodheart.

This tremendously enjoyable ‘Ruddigore’ is being given further performances tonight and on Thursday and Friday evenings and there is a matinee on Thursday.

DRAMA

It can be seen from the following reports that drama in the school is thriving. Judith Harrowven, Sara Mudway, Liz Hurrell and Angel Ellis started drama club last year for First and Second Form pupils, and they met once a week after school. They report:

"We performed two plays arising from improvisations for the Sprowston Methodist Church’s New Year Party, and these were well acted and very well received by the audience. The first play, called ‘A day in the life of a film director’, showed how an action could be made to appear quite different to differing audiences, and the actresses had continually to change their performances in order to do literally what the director said. The second play was called ‘Oracle’ and was about a blind princess whose sight was restored by an oracle. The plays were so well received that we performed them at The Oaks old people’s home as part of a concert to entertain the residents. The club is still thriving despite the strains of ‘O’ levels, and all First and Second Formers are welcome to come along to the sessions".

Mr Hills continues to run his drama club for the Senior School. He says:

"I am pleased to record that this year has seen an even greater flourishing of drama activity in the Middle School. A tradition has been established; many of the pupils who pioneered the beginnings of a Third Year group two years ago now represent a central core of knowledge and experience. This experience has permitted us to widen our horizons and approach drama in a more experimental way. We have continued to work on improvisation techniques but we have also been able to tackle scripted drama. The group have been encouraged to work out their ideas, and the results, while not always successful, have been stimulating. Towards the end of the year we found ourselves exploring the possibilities of music and movement, an activity involving techniques new to both members and leader. There has been keen and growing interest in Theatre, and we were able to drop in on a rehearsal of the ‘The Winter’s Tale’ at the Maddermarket; it was a new and interesting experience for most of the group.

Once again we entered a play for the Norfolk Fringe Festival. It was called ‘Walter’ and arose out of an idea which led to improvisation and so to a play. The theme was then re-treated in a mime to music, which similarly grew from collective ideas. Lindsay Williams, who played the title role, will describe the event in greater detail…

‘We started rehearsals in early May by just trying to think what a gang could do with their time after school. Each person tried to be one particular character and to know that character himself, and try to convey this to all the others. We improvised the whole situation and decided on a basic storyline. The group, bored with nothing to do, bullied Walter, a younger boy, into joining their gang in the hope of getting money out of him. They decided he had to steal something to prove himself, but when the theft was discovered, they all promptly deserted him. We then worked out a dance drama to represent the ideas of acceptance and rejection in the play’.

This year also promises much. We have already embarked upon a programme of poetry and drama which seeks to explore ‘Love’ in its various forms. I hope the tradition does not wither away when the present Fifth Year go their various ways in the summer".

Mr Hills is at the moment rehearsing a Mummers Play and the Wakefield Shepherd’s play for performance at the end of term, with a cast of 3^rd and 4^th Formers. Judging by the energy some of his cast generate within the classroom, it should be a lively occasion.

Last December a very successful production of ‘The Insect Play’ was staged. Robert Buck has this to say about it…

"For three days on December 7^th, 8^th and 9^th the stage of Thorpe Grammar School was taken over by swarms of buzzing arthropods for a school production of ‘The Insect Play’ by the Brothers Kapek. The cast consisted of Sixth Form butterflies (with brightly coloured tights and concealed garters), beetles, crickets and hordes of First and Second Year ants, who slaved in their chain gangs on stage, and yet found enough energy to strain the patience of their ant-minders off stage.

The play is set in a forest, and the central character is a drunken tramp who wishes to learn about life. He first gets caught up in the superficial life of the butterflies who only care about excitement and love. Delving into family life he finds the beetles who care for nothing but their ball of dirt, their pile. Mr and Mrs Cricket are looking for a home for their baby, but their hopes are dashed by the Ichneumon Fly in search of food for his larva daughter.

The third act found our tramp sitting on an ant hill, and jumping up with a start, he gets involved in the rhythmic, orderly world of work for the whole of the Empire, to the steady beat of ‘blank, two, three, four’.

Finally the only thing for the tramp to learn about is death. He watches the moths entranced by the candle which destroys them, and is himself watched by totally unconcerned snails as he dies of a heart attack.

The play involved an enormous cast, ranging from First to Sixth Formers, and credit goes to all who were involved in the production: to Mr Childs and his tree-engineers, Mrs Aspland and her flower-makers and painters, and Mrs Duncan and Mrs Bell who took their places in the ant-mask conveyor belt".

The school’s next production is a modern-dress version of Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’, at 7.30 on the 6^th, 7^th and 8^th December. This inside look at rehearsal shows the play in the making…

"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore…? – where are you Romeo? Enter downstage left. Yes, it is different form last time though. We’ve changed it…

Now this bedroom scene. What will you wear? What do you think? Juliet, have you got a suitable nightdress? Too short, it’ll have to reach your ankles. Romeo, you can keep your shoes and socks on. Next week we’ll start the fight scenes…

Now you’ll be using real knives. Don’t worry, no one will get hurt… or if you do it’s your own fault. If anything goes wrong, improvise – even if you skid on the blood. This is a gang fight. Watch where you’re hitting him. No you can’t win. He’s the hero, doesn’t die till the last scene. No we can’t alter the play. Oh, stop clutching yourself and we’ll try it through again… Enter Romeo… limping?

Gradually order is emerging from chaos. Lines are being learned and characters are gaining individual flesh and blood. It really will be all right on the night! Book early!

SKI-ING HOLIDAY IN AUSTRIA: EXTRACTS FROM A DIARY

January 4th

Our party of 35 pupils and staff left at 2.45am for an eight-day ski-ing holiday in the Austrian Mountains… About 6.50am we were walking out onto the tarmac ready to board the plane. Most of our party had never flown before and we were all feeling a little scared though we were longing to fly. It was a strange feeling as I fastened my seat belt ready for take off. Suddenly I was aware that we were moving at a terrific speed. I blocked my ears and waited… When I next dared to look out of the tiny window I just saw a great expanse of white foamy cloud which closely resembled thick, white snow… At Munich Airport there was no sign of any snow, but as we journeyed nearer to Austria the snow became thicker and thicker… We snatched our first glimpse of Pertisau from across one side of the lake at about 11.45am. The village looked very tranquil as the bright sunshine shone down on to it and the snow, and it was about midday when we arrived at the Hotel Alpenhof.

January 5^th

After lunch we set off carrying our skis and clad in thick jumpers, anoraks and ski boots for our first proper ski-ing lesson. I was put in a group under the instruction of an Australian called Jim. He first took us for a ‘walk’ on our skis and then taught us to glide on the surface of the snow without falling over. We then skied down most of the ski course, and after climbing a slope using the side-step action we were taught to ‘schuss’ down the slope.

January 7^th

This afternoon we carried our skis over to the meeting place for our two-hour lesson. Jim calmly told us that today we would be going up on the dreaded draglift. I felt very scared as I grabbed the rope and was pulled briskly up the slope. I felt myself sliding out of the ruts in the snow, but I held on for dear life and eventually I was at the top. We practised snow ploughing down the slope and side stepping back to the summit. It was here that I stupidly sprained my ankle. I was snow ploughing in and out of three poles, and as I passed the third pole I slipped and some how got my skis entangled. Luckily the lesson was practically over so I took off my skis and slowly walked back to the Alpenhof.

January 9^th

… After our evening meal we all went into the games room for tonight was the Tyrolean Evening. The men looked very smart in their leather short trousers and their green hats decorated with a single feather. The women too looked attractive in calf-length dresses and white lace blouses. Their dances, such as the Woodcutters Dance and the Milkers Dance, seemed to be symbolic. My favourite was the Miners Dance in which the dancers entered carrying lanterns and hammers, and towards the end of the dance a grey powder was lit on a flint stone and sent up very colourful sparks. Between the dances two girls showed their skill at singing and yodelling. It was a delightful and memorable evening.

SOMERSET WALKING HOLIDAY

A small party of Sixth and Fourth Form pupils left school at 8.30am on Tuesday 17^th April 1973, to embark on a walking holiday in Somerset. We were accompanied by two members of staff, Mr Smith and Mr Wiard, and in our two minibuses the journey soon passed so that by mid-afternoon we arrived at our destination, Cheddar, to be greeted by fine sunny weather.

On the following day we set off on our first walk which was along the top of the magnificent limestone feature, Cheddar Gorge. The day’s walking included an unplanned stop to locate three members of the party, who, as it was later ascertained, had descended a pothole. We then moved on to Minehead hostel, a quaint isolated building in the hills, and on the way stopped at Wookey Hole caves to se the marvellous underground caverns decorated with stalagmites and stalactites.

On Thursday we went walking in the hills around Minehead, which took us through several picturesque villages and gave us some lovely views of the lower hills and the sea. We weren’t in quite such high spirits the next day though, after being drenched while walking over a stretch of bleak Exmoor. (Some garments took over twenty-four hours to dry in Exford hostel’s drying room).

Owing to the rainy weather’s continuing we were confined to minibus tours of the Exford area for the next two days, visiting places of interest such as Watersmeet (the meeting of two rivers) Culbone Church (one of the smallest in England) and Tarr Steps (an ancient rock ‘bridge’).

The last day of the holiday had now arrived, and by this time we had moved on to Crowcombe. Since the weather was fine once again the morning was devoted to a walk over part of the undulating Quantock Hills, and yet again we were impressed by the beautiful scenery. In the afternoon a visit was made to Blue Anchor Bay, Watchet, where the majority of the party eagerly searched for fossils on the rocky beach.

Naturally everyone was disappointed that the holiday had come to its close, and regretfully we left Somerset (not before purchasing our cartons of clotted cream!), arriving back at school in the evening of the 24^th. Thanks to Mr Ball for consenting to the trip, and to Messrs Smith and Wiard for organising such an enjoyable and memorable holiday.

THIRD AND FOURTH FORMERS VISIT TO DEVON – SPRING 1973

Altogether about 40 people went on the school trip to Devon, and although one member of the party got lost in Bath for a short while, all 40 arrived safely back at school on April 19^th.

Woolacombe, where we stayed, is a small town overlooking a large bay. The Atlantic Hotel was very comfortable, with large lounge, games room, television room, and luxurious bedrooms. The meals were delicious, especially the evening meal, and there were many facilities for our use like colour television, and a stereo record player.

While we were there we visited several interesting places, many of them on foot, and by the end of the week we had walked about forty miles. We had two full days out with packed lunches, one to Lynmouth where we went up in the cliff railway, and then on to the Valley of Rocks and Hunters Inn; the other to the East Lyn Valley, where we all crossed a bridge at our own risk, were shown round a lighthouse at Foreland Point, and saw some black and white sheep grazing on an unbelievably steep gradient. That was one of two steep gradients we were to see that day, the second being an enormous hill which the coach could not get up with its full load. The whole party got out and walked whilst the coach sailed merrily to the top.

We also visited Clovelly, which is a village with one narrow cobbled street, set in the side of a hill. Here some members of the party tried the expensive but delicious traditional cream teas.

We climbed the Hangman, walked round Boggy Point, and shopped for presents in Ilfracombe and Barnstable during the week and between us we must have bought about a ton of Devonshire clotted cream toffees and fudge!

THE WHITBY FIELD TRIP

The trip took place this April, the party consisting of about 30 pupils and four members of staff. We careered recklessly northwards, leaving a trail of broken drivers in our wake. Lunch was taken at Lincoln, close to the cathedral, which is doubtless very beautiful under the years of grime from the infernal combustion engine. We arrived at the Queensland Hotel (tel: Whitby 2033) in the early evening.

To the uninitiated, Whitby is a town on the east coast of Yorkshire about 90 miles south east of Carlisle.

On the first day we went to nearby Sandsend, perusing the odd wave-cut platform and wishing we had a pocket size pneumatic drill amongst us to extricate the fossils regarded so highly by the leaders of the group. We then motored up the indecent gradients, arriving within the beautiful North Yorkshire Moors National Park. Imagine our alarm at being cast adrift to walk a few miles! Mr Thompson set a hideous pace which I believe we were meant to emulate. Fortunately as our leader’s speed slipped down to only a five-minute mile we had plenty of time to survey the beautiful sheep-infested moors.

On the Saturday it was decided that a chunk of culture was in order. With this thought in about four minds we visited Whitby Museum. In the afternoon we visited the less scholarly haven of Scarborough, whose hot-dog stalls were considerably emptier on our leaving than on arrival.

On the Sabbath we entered the heart of Pickering Forest, where a small region was to be found. It contained several fascinating exhibits including a list of pests and parasites which had to be controlled. The house sparrow, it seemed, was neither pest nor parasite.

On the Monday we visited an enormous steelworks and saw the stuff being churned out bar by bar for the rather ignoble fate of becoming mattress springs.

On Tuesday the lovely limpet-infested Robin Hood’s Bay was visited. M. Giroud, the French Assistant, warmly recommended the consumption of the aforementioned creature; he bullied them out of their shells and swallowed them in one gulp. Not a pretty sight.

On the Wednesday we visited a farm in the area and ate scores of kindly-provided scones in the appealing farmhouse. The closely confining cowshed, generously populated with its four-footed inhabitants was less appealing, but we were assured that this was what Geography was all about. This, we thought, was our last day together, and with heavy hearts we set off for Norwich. There had been disappointing moments: a suspected prehistoric ball-bearing found by a Roman road turned out to be a partially sucked aniseed ball for example, but we, ably supported and abetted by our four most agreeable members of staff, had enjoyed ourselves.

We expected to arrive home in the early evening, but the engine blew up. Instead we spent several frustrating hours in a car park near Doncaster, until reinstated to former glories, our coach made Thorpe by eleven, amidst yawns of joy and arguments concerning who was to write the thing up for the school magazine. I’m a born loser.

RHINE SCHOOL PARTY – 1973

We set off by coach at 6am on 25^th May, and after an easy crossing arrived at Ostend at 6.20pm when, passing through customs, we stepped on foreign soil. However, the teachers’ navigation left much to be desired, and it was 7.30 before we arrived at the hostel to a rather salty bowl of soup, potatoes, beans and chicken schnitzel. After tea we went for a walk into the town and then climbed into rather creaky beds and went to sleep.

Next day we crossed the border into Germany and travelled to Rudesheim which has a lovely hostel surrounded by vineyards. Next morning we were swimming in a lovely pool in Rudesheim. Mr and Mrs Hills and Mrs Moore went in swimming as well, but Mr Kapherr claimed he had forgotten to bring his swimming things. After that we went to a hotel for lunch, and then queued for ages before getting a ride on the cable cars over the vineyards to a rather hideous Franco – Prussian war memorial.

On the following day we crossed the Rhine by ferry and had a long walk to Bacharach. There we bought our own lunches and tried out our German in the shops. Some of us who had enough strength left climbed up 300 or more steps to a castle called Stahleck that had been turned into a youth hostel, and from there saw a wonderful view of the Rhine.

Next we went to a modern hostel at Bonn, and while there four of the party went to visit pen friends, while others, under the capable direction of Mrs Moore, went up the Drachenfels where they bought their own lunch. After lunch they had the choice of going either to the castle or to the zoo, and then travelled down the Drachenfels by cable train and so back to the hostel.

The next day we went to Beethoven’s house, and found it very interesting. However, after lunch the coach broke down and while it was being mended we went for a swim. When we got back to the hostel the others had arrived and told us about their pen friends, showing us presents they had been given.

The day after, we set off in the coach keeping our fingers crossed, and managed to reach Cologne with the bus still in working order. As the hostel was not open we went to the cathedral and saw the jewels and the wonderful workmanship. We had lunch in a restaurant and spent all afternoon shopping and buying presents; laden, and with nearly all our money spent we struggled up the steps to the modern hostel and unpacked.

After another day travelling through Belgium (with yet another breakdown), we came to the last day of the holiday, packed dismally and loaded up yet another coach to take us to Ostend. From here we had a calm crossing and it did not seem all that long before we were singing the chorus of ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ and were drawing up at school to meet our parents after a lovely holiday.

WHY THE KOOKABURRA LAUGHS

Long ago in distant ages the black god, Rollo-Mano who is sometimes called the ‘old man of the sea’ came up on the back of a dugong to see how this new land of Australia was getting on.

Blowing his conch shell he came to the Australian Bush and said with bird magic.

"Wee-waa-wagga-wagga Oad nadatta coogee"

and just as he said ‘coogee’, from the magic dilly bag came the biggest Kingfisher that ever was.

"You are the Kookaburra", said Rollo-Mano, "you are queer but you must laugh".

So Rollo-Mano picked up his magic dilly bag and out crawled a little bear-like creature.

"You are the Koala", said Rollo-Mano, "I must make you queerer still and make the Kookaburra laugh".

So Rollo-Mano picked up his bag and cried this spell,

"Pamallawa-Wooloongadda-Moonayoonoka".

Then out came a brown animal with large hind legs and a long thick tail.

"You are a Kangaroo," said Rollo-Mano.

Then he got out queerer things like:

animals that fly

birds that don’t

spiders that whistle

black swans

flying foxes

emu

wombat

bandicoot

and still the Kookaburra did not laugh.

In the end Rollo-Mano got tired of saying spells. So he took a drink from the river – then the water became fierce. Rollo-Mano shouted a spell,

"Thargomindah-Cunnmulla-Mdpeninka" he said going blacker. Just as he said ‘Mdpeninka’ his tongue became tangled up in his wing beard.

Then the Kookaburra picked up the magic dilly bag and a mixed-up animal crawled out of the bag. This was a duckbilled platypus. The Kookaburra laughed and laughed till the platypus grew so sensitive that it crawled away.

THE EAGLE

The eagle hovers with a beady eye,

He glides with dignity and grace

His wings outstretched – a fearsome sight to his prey that lurk below.

The eagle swoops with the speed of a bullet

Striking his prey from its feet

Carrying it up to the nest above in his powerful and razor-sharp talon.

THE ANTELOPES

Swift, graceful,

Powerful legs working like pistons

Panting breath,

FEAR!

The wild dogs, loping, galloping along,

Large jaws hanging open,

No thoughts except to escape.

The antelopes are tiring now yet the dogs still lope along.

Suddenly a large dog surges forward,

Leaping upwards for the throat of the deer.

The beast is down.

Now the whole pack pour over the writhing body.

The wild antelope has no companion now.

BAT

The bat wanders like a blind beggar.

His wings like tissue paper flap constantly.

His eyes shine like beads in the dark.

His mousy body shivers.

And his yellow teeth glint in the low light of the cave.

Millions are hanging off the roof,

Like a horrible nightmare of creatures.

A DAY OUT IN BANGKOK

We were all seated and ready for the start. We were in Bangkok, Thailand’s capital city. There was a show being held in the Rose Gardens and that was where we were. The show started with a procession with the elephants in the lead, richly decorated. After them came dancers and performers all beautifully dressed. The orchestra, mainly consisting of wind instruments played some very loud music and the show began. First of all there was some dancing performed by girls. Then followed a speciality – Thailand boxing. The attendants ran on and set up the ring: Thailand boxing differs from ordinary boxing in that you are allowed to use your feet. After three rounds of this one of the boxers was so badly injured that he retired hurt.

The next performance was bamboo dancing. Four people, carrying a bamboo pole between them, came and sat down in a cross. Then two more people came in with two more bamboo poles, and placed them beside the others, so each of the four was holding two ends of bamboo poles. The orchestra then played music and the two performers danced in and out of the bamboo poles as they were being clapped together. This went on for some time and then we all went outside to watch the elephants. They very cleverly pushed logs down into a river. Next, in turn, bull fighting, cock fighting, and a Thai wedding took place. Then other things were performed, by which time we were all so tired that we all fell into our beds when we got back to the hotel.

AUTUMN

Autumn is a lovely season. It is not usually too hot or too cold. The leaves are turning from greens into reds, yellows, browns and orange colours. In November we have Guy Fawkes when we burn some of the crispy autumn leaves. We make a guy who is burnt along with the leaves and other rubbish.

The countryside is very beautiful in the autumn, with a golden carpet of leaves and almost bare trees. The squirrels can sometimes be seen as they gaily go collecting their hoard of nuts, ready for hibernation.

In autumn we think of bonfires. Children like sweeping up the leaves and as the leaves begin to dance in the wind the children become excited. Autumn also brings the thought that Christmas is on the way. It is a lively season, with Harvest Festivals and other things. It is a lovely season, break between summer and winter.

SCHOOL DINNERS

Two implements,

The target in front,

The armies of us prepare,

Prepare for danger!

A dangerous mission,

We may not see our families again!

We all know our fate.

We can start.

It’s tough!

It’s ghastly!

We must stick it!

Only the brave get through,

And everyday the battle commences!

SCHOOL DINNERS!

POLLUTION

Pollution comes,

Pollution goes,

Leaving not trees and green hedgerows,

But tall black chimneys,

Fierce and black

In place of a farmer’s haystack.

The pure green countryside, bit by bit,

Is eaten up

And like a pup

The city grows bigger.

The greedy cranes don’t leave a thing,

Gone are the birds that used to sing.

They’ve all flown away

To find green trees,

A cooling breeze

And the sun that shines all day.

I WISH I WERE

I wish I were a power station.

I’d be looked after because no one could do without me.

And if the foreman stopped coming, I’d short circuit and go up with a searing flash.

But that wouldn’t be very good.

They might call me a write-off and I would be left to rust away.

I don’t fancy being a power station.

Maybe I could be a ten million pound computer.

I’d be in the news making brilliant calculations about how wide the world was in tenths of an inch.

I’d be inside and I’d be lovely and ward.

Otherwise I’d contract my tapes and they’d split and become useless.

But sooner or later somebody would not programme me properly and I would be replaced because I made a mistake.

I don’t think I’ll be a computer.

People have much better lives.

I’ll be me.

I WISH I WERE

I wish I were a tank. I could rumble out of my gigantic shed in the morning, and head off down the road to the heath. When I got there I could ride over the bumps and down the slopes and up the hills. I could swerve round tight corners and nearly tip myself over.

If it was a wet day, the mud would fly off my tracks and hit passers-by in the face. I could have a great time rushing about in the mud. It would be fun going full speed through a deep puddle, and the water would wash the mud off me.

As I rumbled along I would frighten the animals, and I could chase after them. The rabbits would disappear down their burrows, and I would fire my machineguns near the hole – that would really frighten them.

I could fire my big gun at an oak tree and down it would come, crash! If it hit my turret it would not hurt, because I would be safely tucked up in my hard skin.

Then I would go back to my shed and refill with oil and petrol. I would have all night to plan what to do the next day (because the tough tanks do not go to sleep). I might even go on a night spree and frighten all the cats.

It would be fun to be a tank (I think).

IF

If I were a teacher

I would bawl at naughty boys.

I would keep a stick in my cupboard,

I would tell children what to do.

If I was in a good mood I would help little girls.

I would set hard sums for people I do not like.

WATER

Water trickles through the soft mud, slowly, silently, splitting every time it hits a stone.

Water is cool and clear like the night sky. Water can be fast or slow but at any speed it sounds as if it is talking to you, whispering.

Glistening in the moonlight, the sparkles look like eyes staring at the moon through the mist.

THE LITTER PROBLEM

The bus was filled with a mixture of cigarette smoke and strong perfume as it rolled on towards Cromer. Flies of all shapes and sizes made their way up the filthy windows, only to fall back and begin again. Shandy cans and Schwepps non-returnable bottles rolled over old cigarette ends as the bus turned sharply up a steep hill. A trail of blue smoke was left as it battled on upwards.

The conductor pressed the bell with his nicotine-stained index finger. "St Faith’s Church", he said, as he opened the door. The bus lost a few passengers but it did not make any appreciable difference to the noise level.

At last I got to my stop, and I uttered "Phew!" as at last I walked out and enjoyed the fresh air – or was it fresh? There were smoke stacks, chemical plants and a huge number of other things, called cars and trucks. But somehow our air was cleaner than most places. Tokyo, for instance where it would be suicide to go out without a mask.

Suicide, that is what pollution really is. We make it. We take it.

THE CREATURE FIRE

Flickering at first, almost dying, but then bursting up, leaving its all too familiar acrid stench in the air and on the ground where it was born. It leaves a path of waste and devastation in its wake. Trees which have spent all their life, over sixty years, building and growing are eaten in a matter of minutes by this terrible monster. Helped by the wind it is driven on, pausing, just for a second, to hiss in disgust at some grass, still wet from the morning dew. Charging like a wild horse into the next field it senses its only enemy is near. Its only enemy is also red. It screeches to a halt in the path of the oncoming opponent. From it a giant snake uncoils and raises its ugly head towards the now-near foe. Gallons of deadly venom fly out. The foe stops in its tracks. The fire spits, fizzes, crackles and dies.

A NEMESIA

A sinister, blood red cavern from which there is a vast explosion spewing out hot yellow flame. A tiny caterpillar picking its way through some snow at the mouth of the cave in which is set a purple moustache. A gaping hole hanging in the sky and swaying in the breeze. Frilled edges like the feathers on the head of a Red Indian Chief. A dragon’s open mouth breathing out the flames from its burning throat.

THE SEA

Everything is quiet.

The sea laps contentedly at the beach’s edge.

Gulls squawk noisily round the cliff-top.

As the tide moves out, the people move in,

Covering the sand with windbreaks, rugs and deckchairs.

Then the sea returns.

Getting louder and closer at every minute.

Angry waves claw at the beach, determined to get their revenge

on the people who dare disturb their peace.

At first they only move back towards the cliff.

But, when they see there is no escape, they hurriedly pack their

things and go.

Once again the beach is deserted.

The waves re now peaceful,

Dappled with moonlight…

THE WILD ONE

The wild horse stood quivering with excitement in the corral. His black coat was gleaming in the blinding sunlight. Today was the day that they were going to try to break him. He stood with a blindfold over his eyes wondering what was going to happen. Suddenly something was lumped on to his back. He shuddered. The blindfold was taken off, and something sharp and painful was poked into his sides. He had never felt pain like this before and it made him angry. He began to feel hatred for this thing on his back and, determined to get it off, started to rear, plunge and kick as he had never done before, but the cruel mass on his back just stuck to him like glue. By now he was going mad with anger and frustration. His coat was no longer a lovely jet black, but was speckled with a mixture of sweat and blood. He had almost given up when he gave one final buck and a massive rear. This caught the thing on his back, when he was thinking the horse had been broken, and the horse felt the grip loosen on his back and at last the cruel object fell from him. It landed with a thud in the dust. The horse stood, with sides heaving, in the corral, alone.

THE BLACK PANTHER

She prowls through the forest, her every movement suggesting liquid. Her shoulder movements are deceptively smooth, belying the fact of the power behind them. The tail which follows has a curve in it, but is held perfectly still by some hidden steel muscle. The overall appearance is of power, but graceful power, hiding the fact that this is one of the most efficient killing machines ever seen on earth.

She spies her prey, three peaceful creatures not suspecting their fate. The panther crouches, the movement is hardly seen. Then she pounces, like some black living bolt from a giant crossbow. She hits her prey with a dull thud, killing instantly with iron jaws. The other two animals run off into the bush, leaving their companion to be torn to shreds by the now maddened pantheress. Soon life is back to normal in the bush. Such killing is commonplace in this place of violence.

DEATH ON THE TUNDRA

He sat there, contentedly chewing on the newly born willow shoots that are plentiful on the mid-summer tundra, his mind as far away from the violent death which was to overtake him as a lemming’s mind ever could be. He sat up, still chewing, and looked around. On a large inland pool snow-geese drifted to and fro, dabbling, diving, ducking and enjoying themselves to the utmost. Caribou wandered past, browsing on mouthfuls of tender new grass and chewing their cud meditatively.

Looking away from the plain and up into the high tundra mountains, he saw a moose, alert and tense, looking round between mouthfuls of willow, his staple diet.

Suddenly a snap! A movement in a bush about ten yards away from him"! A pair of amber eyes seemed to look right through to his bones, a sleek grey snout tipped with a wet black muzzle. He was frozen, rooted to the spot by those paralysing eyes. His hole was only fifteen feet away, but he could not take a single step towards it. Out of the bush stepped the sleek grey wolf, a bitch with cubs to feed. She stepped slowly towards the petrified lemming, her white teeth glistening in the evening sunlight, her tail swinging to and fro, as if to herald her victory. She crouched, ready to spring. The lemming suddenly snapped out of its trance and bounded for its burrow, but the wolf soon overtook it and broke its back with one thump of its paw. It was all over.

BARNEY, THE BARN OWL

"Hello there, I’m Barney the barn owl. Have you ever considered what it’s like to be an owl? Well, I’ll tell you. Lesson number one. If you want to be an owl of high class (like me), you will have to take your OWL Exams. One exam is your mouse-preparing exam: first of all you wait in your tree until dusk, and then fly over a cornfield, scanning the area until a victim is spotted. Take a good dive and grab. Quickly kill him and take him home and lay him on your working area. First skin him, then bite off his head, legs and tail. Fillet him well, taking out the backbone last, leaving two delicious mouse steaks. Pop them into a saucepan and boil for one hour. Meanwhile, boil the bones and add the liver and kidney into the mixture.

One hour later, take your steaks and lay them on a platter. Put the livers and kidney on top and add the thick gravy. Now, as you see you have a meal for yourself and your instructor.

Exam number two. ‘How To Chose Your Stately Tree’. This exam may have modifications made, if you live in a poor forest or wood. To take the exam you have to fly from a tree, searching as you fly over others, looking for a nice sheltered hollow, with no entrance that says to humans, ‘Come on, take a peep inside’. After finding the appropriate hollow, you must furnish it with a mossy floor. The room must be large enough to house five or six owlets, plus a mum.

Well, that’s your exam over – now to perch outside, not in daylight, no, that would be a disgrace. Ah ha, a humanoid being, horrible thing. Some like taking your eggs, and others kill you, with guns and snares, cars and lorries and many other disastrous tortures for our feathered companions. But, like most things, humans do come in useful sometimes. One of my friends called Albert had his wing broken (very nasty). A kind old gentleman picked him up and took him to a veterinary surgeon who quickly did up Albert’s injured wing.

Some humans are a bit one way and a bit the other. They go shooting and yet are bird lovers. Still, no one can be perfect, not even us law-abiding owls, you know!"

THE EMPTY HOUSE

There was a poor old house,

That once was full of folk,

But now it’s sad and empty,

And to me he spoke –

It said, "They all have left me,

My rooms are cold and bare,

My front door’s locked and bolted,

And all the windows glare.

No smoke comes from my chimneys,

No roses climb my wall,

But only ivy grows on me,

Like a green and shining shawl.

No postman brings me letters,

No name is on my gate;

I once was called ‘The Ivies’,

But now I’m out of date.

The garden’s getting overgrown,

The trees won’t leaf again;

But though I fall to ruin,

The ivy – will – remain.

A LIMERICK

There was an old man from Calcutta

Who consumed tons of fresh bread and butter,

On the golf-course at Cork,

He found out he’d got stork,

So he hit it for six with his putter!

THE SEVEN LEGGED SPIDER

Many a spider’s fallen into the bath

And climbed frenziedly up its shiny surface,

But no eight-legged spider’s reached the top

Ever.

But one solitary spider with only seven legs

Climbed slowly and carefully, higher and higher,

Till it worked its way to the rim of the bath

Slowly.

Then it patiently started up the wall

And with its seven legs went patiently forward

Till it eventually reached the brick air-vent

Triumphantly.

FACES

Faces are your whole life

Faces are your personality

Faces distinguish between you and me

Faces make us unique.

Faces are smooth

Faces are wrinkled

Faces have freckles

Faces glare

Faces snare.

Faces are camouflage

Faces are deceiving

Faces betray you

Faces are your guilty conscience

Faces can be a liar’s mark

Faces are give-aways

They give away age.

Faces are revealing

Faces are books

Faces tell stories

Faces show the person and how they’re going to be.

Faces are mirrors

Faces are copied

Faces are masks when used with mascara.

Faces are a bumpy mass

Faces are power points

Faces make money.

Faces are inherited

You’re stuck with your face

Faces are your own personal property

You can’t have a different one.

Faces mask faces within faces.

THE MYSTERIOUS CASTLE IN THE MIST

‘Squelch, squelch’ – the wet moss protested under my feet as I strode across the dripping, mist-enveloped, moor. Suddenly, and with a feeling of vague uneasiness, I remembered the old legend that I had heard about when I first came to stay on the edge of the moors – the old man’s chilling words came back to me with new spine-chilling meaning as I looked nervously around at the mist-enshrouded hills: "When the mist slips down upon Frechen Tor, then the ‘Wish-hounds’ will be heard howling out their tormented song". He had gone on to tell how these hounds had never been known to set upon anyone, it was their baleful sound and fearful appearance that had sent persons mad with fright, and caused them to blunder off into the bogs that littered the moor, never to be seen again.

When I had set out on what I knew to be an eighteen-mile hike across those wild moors I had forgotten those words, but now my ears were straining to catch sounds other than the squelch of my boots and the quickening rasp of my breathing as involuntarily I speeded up my pace. There it was again, a faint padding, splashing noise far off in the mist – with thumping heart I stopped and looked back and saw three grey shadowy shapes which seemed to float there, only their glowing eyes revealing their positions in the swirling clouds of vapour.

Fighting against the urgent desire to flee blindly through the mist away form those shapes, I turned and walked rapidly along the path I knew would lead me to the old military road where perhaps I should be lucky enough to meet someone else using this lonely road. The pattering of paws seemed much closer now, and with a madly beating heart I broke into a fear-crazed run, my ears suddenly filled with a horrible howling noise which seemed to come from everywhere.

All at once, out of the gloom, and almost in the direction of my mad flight, the moss-covered walls of an old castle appeared, a dark door opening showing in the grey-green walls. It was only as I passed through the doorway that my confused mind recalled that nowhere had a castle been shown on the maps of the area, nor had anyone ever spoken of one. My brain reeled as the unanswered questions cascaded one after the other through my mind, but I knew that the only thing that mattered was to get away from these fearful beasts by climbing up the walls of this strange castle. As I began to pull myself up the steeply sloping stone, a golden glow began to appear from over my right shoulder, slowly lighting up the whole of the hillside and driving back the mist.

Incredibly, the howling had stopped and the walls of the castle had melted away and become steep sides of a little valley. I climbed thankfully to the top and found myself on the old road. Almost immediately the sound of a car could be heard, grinding slowly up the hill. It was the little red post-van, and I ran towards it with the little strength I had left. As I climbed in, the postman said in a puzzled voice, "Lord, boy, you look as though you have seen a ghost!" I was too overcome to make any reply, and soon the van was jolting on its way again.

FREEDOM

Freedom is a wonderful experience

That could only happen to a child

Or animal.

A child need have no worries

About the world’s troubles

But can think as he likes.

His thoughts can run free

And wild

Like a unicorn galloping through the forest

A cheetah running through the grassland

BUT

An adult could never be free

The cruel world would stop him –

Food shortage

War and hatred

Which fill the polluted air.

Atomic power,

Tension

Depression

Floods and earthquakes causing homelessness.

Cries of help.

These things are everywhere.

So how can he be free?

Only a child can be free.

When he grows into the adult world

His childhood and carefree ways

Are lost forever.

A PERSONIFICATION OF LAZINESS

Does not want to get up.

Does not want to go to school,

Hates working,

Loves sleeping,

Late for lessons,

Dozes and never answers in class,

Fat, blown-up cheeks,

He slouches,

And never goes further than he has to,

Tries to get out of Games and PE,

Eats slowly,

The only time he rushes is

To get to the tuck-shop at break time,

Gobbles down crisps then,

Slouches back to lessons,

Lolls about,

Yawns in class,

He is so lazy,

He is laziness personified.

DAY-DREAMING

A dreary lazy summer’s day,

Wasted sunshine through the classroom window,

Adding to the torture of 5 to the power of 348.56.

The chalk screams in its agony,

As it is dragged across the board,

Making nonsensical shapes,

A jungle of man-made nonsense.

Outside those imprisoning walls,

A bee drones in the shade of a blossoming cherry tree,

And soars into a clear blue sky.

I gaze enraptured at the shrinking shape,

And long for its freedom,

And all at once,

I soar above the trees and down into the balmy shade,

And lazily buzz through fragrant clumps of flowers,

And finally over rivers and green field; wheat bowing in the wind: -

A sharp crack rings out,

Then ‘Pay Attention’ is yelled,

But neither brings the class to life,

They continue to soar over the countryside: -

FREE!

CRASH LANDING

"Flanders, Flanders. Are you reading me? Base to Flanders. Come in at once".

"Flanders to base. Flanders to base. I am reading you loud and clear, repeat loud and clear…"

"Flanders, Flanders. Are you reading me? Bzzzzzzzzzz…"

"Heck, they can’t hear me, what’s happening?" I turned the appropriate knobs and switches but to no avail. The space capsule plunged down towards the planet at a sickening speed, the lights went off. All I could hear was a droning noise, its pitch getting higher and higher s I plunged faster and faster downwards…

I opened my eyes. ‘Where on earth was I? Not on earth’. My dazed brain registered that much. I shook my head and propped myself up on my elbows. I dragged the back of my hand across my forehead and felt the moist blood smear across my hand, not a lot of blood, but enough to get me scared. The capsule was in semi-darkness, and my unsteady eyes gradually became used to it. I could make out the equipment and provisions strapped and fixed to the walls, but to the left there was a bulky muddle.

I tried to sit up but cried out in pain as a shooting feeling like an electric shock shot up my leg to my hip where it writhed and burned like a mad thing. I rested for a few moments, and then, very gingerly, I raised myself to a sitting position, though not without a certain degree of pain. I could now see that the muddle was a couple of oxygen-tank cases that had fallen on my leg. I felt around the base of the control panel which was scarcely two feet away from me. My hand touched the cold of the automatic grippers. I closed my hand over them and started to grapple with the oxygen cases. I pushed them off my head after a few minutes of struggling, and leant back, panting like a dog on a hot day. The exercise seemed to put back the circulation into my legs; my left leg still hurt although now it was more of a dull, nagging ache.

I caught hold of the safety straps on the control panel and pulled myself up. Food, that was what I needed. I didn’t know how long I had been unconscious, but it must have been some time for I was famished. There was none in the capsule as I had expected to return to base in a few hours. I searched for the door, I could just make it out, and prayed that the switches had not jammed. They hadn’t and the door opened with ease. I suddenly remembered the pollution-tester hanging on the wall, a simple device that tested air, water and other drinkable liquids. I grabbed it and looked outside. The light was not very bright, about the same as a dull day on earth. An odd plant was just outside the door; it had blue leaves and mauve jelly-like droplets handing on the end of twisting branches. I pushed past the plant, which came up to my shoulders, and noticed that as I did so the mauve droplets turned a livid red and began to quiver. I hastily skipped out of the way and the plant stopped quivering and slowly the droplets turned back to mauve.

The earth I stood on was a warm rust colour; it was soft and springy, like walking on a bed of moss. All around me were queer plants of many colours, warm, soft colours that made you feel pleasantly warm when you saw them, glowing softly, like candlelight. Yet despite this pleasant sight I was dead scared. The silence was deafening. I was afraid to speak, noise would seem strange in this place. The sky was a greenish-grey colour, cloudless and without any sun.

The air was heavy and carried strange scents from the weird plants that grew around me. I looked towards the hills in the distance, high and blue. They were not very far away so I decided to make my way towards them in search of civilization. The pain in my leg had subsided and all I could feel was a dull throb.

I dragged my leg behind me as I walked; it only took ten minutes, as the hills were a lot nearer than they seemed. I decided to climb to the top and saw before me empty domes of glass or some similar type of material, all of them empty. In the middle was a pool, I ran down the hill as best I could and tested the liquid. It was water and I drank as fast as I could. When my thirst was quenched I searched the settlement, but everywhere was empty. I felt alone, terribly alone. I decided to return to the capsule, but as I started to climb the hill I saw a small figure above me on the crest of the hill.

NIGHT

Out in the night

The moon haunts the countryside.

The rain splashes from the trees,

A drumming, disillusioning sound.

The hoot of an owl,

Or is it something else?

Maybe danger, lurking,

Waiting around the corner.

Shadows playing

With the raindrops,

Dancing on the pool.

Looming shapes,

Eerie noises,

Crunching footsteps.

Night is here

Robbing all things.

Everything different -

Dark,

Mystifying,

Mysterious –

Night.

A JOURNEY

It was a sunny morning in the campsite we were staying at. "That was good," I thought, "that was good, because today we were going to climb Ben Nevis. We (my dad and I) were going to climb it yesterday but the weather had been too ‘unstable’". When we got to the foot of Ben Nevis all of us (mum, dad, my younger brother and I) went up the tiring part, the first few hundred feet. This was tricky, you had to get past these ‘marshes’ and on to firm land again. After getting past these came the steepest part of the climb. It was easy if you didn’t rush, only walk steadily. Once we had got on to this track it was just like walking up a slope which was at a slight angle. At my normal walking speed I was soon well ahead of the rest of my family.

After about fifteen minutes I waited a while for the rest to catch up, but as I couldn’t see them now I carried on. The path was a winding, zigzagging path so you could see everybody beneath and above you, but at about 1,200 feet it went around the mountain and with the numerous rocks and boulders you could see only the people on ‘your’ part of the path and on Ben Nevis. This was because we went about 2,000 feet up on a mountain beside Ben Nevis, then crossed a large stream on to Ben Nevis. By the time I had crossed these small streams and the big one (which was half-river, half-stream) I looked down below to see if I could see my family, who were at this time eating some rolls and sandwiches.

The view from there was magnificent; there was a loch where the two mountains met about 2,000 feet up, looking out of place so high up, and I could see two huge lochs on the peaks and sides of the mountains which were a natural, deep blue. After a few more minutes climbing I was in the clouds. There was a strange sense of loneliness and independence even though there were people every few minutes that you could see. I had decided to go on my own, but as it was getting quite cold and wet, you could only see about ten yards ahead, and behind you, and I was wondering whether or not to give up. A little later I met two local boys of about fourteen, who boosted my morale, so I decided to go up with them. My hair was soaking wet, although there was no rain, just a very fine drizzle, and the air was very damp. We asked a few people coming down how much further to the top it was, and the answer was usually, "Oh, about half an hour". Three quarters of an hour later we were nearly at the top; we passed a few sheer drops and chasms, in a couple of which was hard snowy ice. At the summit you could feel that it was colder than only a little way down below, in fact it was freezing. But I had climbed and conquered Ben Nevis, all 4,418 feet of it, and had been the highest person in Great Britain who was touching land.

A WET DINGHY DRILL

On Saturday 30^th March, Norwich Sea Scouts went to Coltishall for the day to have a look around the fighter base.

After dinner we went to the swimming pool in the airmen’s mess for the wet dinghy drill. As I was the tallest in our group of ten I was to be the guinea pig for the drill. I was taken by the gym master to get a dinghy, a lifejacket, and the flying gear that a lightning pilot wears. I was thinking, "What have I let myself in for?" My lifejacket seemed to weigh a ton, and I wondered whether I should float, even after being reassured, I still had my doubts. Next I was sat on a chair and strapped down as a pilot would be in a plane. Now I was really scared, and all my group were joking and saying that they would jump in if I did not come up. This only made me more frightened. Finally the chap told me to stand up. To my relief I was not strapped to the chair.

Then I was told to climb the ladder. When I reached the top I was clipped to a metal support which was suspended from the roof of the pool. I was told to walk down the ladder until the straps took the strain. I was petrified, but then I was told to pull the cord of my lifejacket. This I did and the jacket inflated. Then I was released from the roof and down I went to the pool.

When I broke the surface I released the seat I was strapped to and pulled the uninflated dinghy towards me. I then pulled the ripcord in the dinghy pack and the dinghy was inflated. By now my fears had subsided and I was enjoying myself. Then, from one side of my lifejacket I took out a radio which sent out a bleep every three seconds, and fired a flare gun, which, however, had blank cartridges.

I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

ANGER

With flashing eyes and scowling face,

And thunder in his voice.

He can be tall, small, thin or fat,

A man, woman, child or beast.

He rants and raves and stamps his feet

His body shakes and trembles.

He can make a person quake,

Just looking at his face.

His violent ways will never change,

For he is part of life.

MAN AND HIS MOTORCAR

Man approaches,

Runs possessive fingers

Lovingly over gleaming bodywork

Of latest prestige model

Car.

Walks all round

Appraises, inspects,

Produces keys and

Finally settles smugly

On to pseudo-leather upholstery

Of latest prestige model

Car.

Drives off to join

Thousands more on

Nightly homeward journey.

First gear, second,

Stops, moves on,

Crawls, spurts, stops again.

All the time he adds

Yet more noxious fumes,

Yet more pollution,

Yet more frustration

With his latest prestige model

Car.

THE STARE

The black man,

Lies on the ground,

Terrified,

Defenceless,

His face expresses fear,

Fear in his eyes,

As he quivers

Cold perspiration

Covers his body,

As the knife,

Gleaming,

Shining

In the sun,

Plunges into

His weak,

Starved body.

He lets out a scream,

And dies,

As his terrified stare

Continues

Endlessly.

THE ACTOR

Gaudy costumes, masks of paint and powder,

A different person each time, with different personality,

Different views.

But who was it? What is behind the mask of make-believe?

What kind of person? What kind of character

Under this false outer case?

His eyes will tell you.

His eyes show his underneath.

With the flame of light that pulses behind those eyes

His falseness melts.

No one can conceal the real self.

The eyes are the window to the soul.

Anna Holzer 3A

OLD SOLDIER

There he sits shell-shocked and

Dumb, he still hears the sound of war,

The fear he felt when he

was there will linger in him for evermore.

Sounds of bombers flying overhead

give him bad memories, he wishes he was dead.

25 years ago he was in the front line,

Killing enemy soldiers one by one.

He has no friends or people to see,

he moves in a trance full of misery.

Isolated from the world he’ll spend the rest of his days,

Sitting alone in his house forever in a daze.

FEAR

The thing I fear most is going to the dentists, and that’s what happened to me this morning.

I woke up at the usual time of a quarter to eight, and I made my way downstairs for breakfast. No one was talking. Then mother said, "Eat up, your egg’s getting cold". After breakfast I brushed my teeth, wondering if they would still be there by ten o’clock! We left the house at eight thirty in the pouring rain, and had to wait thirty minutes for the bus to come.

On the bus my brother and I argued who was going in first, but in the end my sister did. Then it was my turn.

"Good morning, Peter," said Mr Spriggs.

"Morning".

"You’re late, aren’t you?"

"Yes".

"Open wide. Now let’s see".

He then pumped up my chair and beamed the light down my throat.

"Don’t close your mouth. You’ll swallow it," said Mr Spriggs. "Upper one OK; upper two OK; a tiny chip off the filling here, have to put that right, but no time now".

That was it. My fears will have to stay for two weeks. I went back into the waiting room where mum asked, "How did you get on?"

"OK"

"Have you got to have any fillings?"

"Yes", I said deeply, and went back to my chair to think.

NEWSPAPER

Pick it up, look at the first page,

Kids getting drunk under age,

Paris fashions for ’73,

And Wilson’s fallen in the sea.

The trouble in Ulster goes on and on

And you couldn’t really care less,

But you pay your taxes just the same,

And spokesmen speak to the press.

You turn the page and take a glance,

There’s the crossword, just your chance,

The pretty girls catch your eye,

And Nixon’s best friend is a spy.

The next page ‘Entertainment and TV’

You look to see what’s on,

You turn to the page with the football

And say "At last City have won".

NO WAY OF TELLING

There is no way of telling

What may happen next.

The world may all froth over,

Or my grandma knit a vest.

There is no way of telling

What may happen next.

Our dog may have kittens,

Or the tortoise build a nest.

HATE

I hate my pen

When the ink runs out.

I hate my ink

When it chooses to cover the desk in a black patch.

I hate the desk

When it’s been carved on by a lovesick girl.

I hate the girl

For scratching on the desk and ruining my poem.

I hate my poem

Because I can’t make it rhyme.

I hate me

Because I write with a useless pen.

I hate my pen

When the ink runs out.

I hate the ink

When it chooses to…

TRAFFIC CONGESTION

After emerging from a triple Latin lesson in Room 3, 4W approach the Chemistry Lab viaduct, proceed along the corridor on the left in single file, and wait at the traffic lights in the Small Foyer. We take the main subway line to the quad and halt at the box junction, waiting for a line of neatly dressed first formers to take the right of way. At full speed we cross the quad to the Large Foyer where we wait at the zebra crossing until a little green man permits us to cross. We accelerate greatly and squeeze all thirty members through the narrow doorway, squashing two courting sixth formers against the wall.

In the dual carriageway across the Dining Hall the boys overtake the panting girls until they catch up at the crossroads at the Music Room stairs. We charge up the stairs, round the roundabout, past Mr Smith’s 3^rd Year Geography pupils. 4W seat themselves in Music Room 1 and begin daintily to sing the School Song which has just been written in Esperanto, an ancient language of the uncivilised.

SCHOOL

At this school, everything is a rush;

The teachers are scratching on the board before you even reach the lesson.

At this school, heavy bags are dragged around,

Carrying nothing but books, books and more books – what a drag!

At this school, the eyes are always wandering,

At first out of the classroom window, and then on to the sticky chewing gum on the floor.

At this school, dinnertime is a kind of relief –

Until it comes to eating your dinner.

(The other day it was meat and vegetables, I didn’t spot the meat until one of the peas rolled over).

At this school, we work, and work, and work, and work,

At what does it all come to…? More work.

WIND

Howling, running, swirling,

The wind’s path takes it

Into every open space.

It howls like a banshee,

Through gaps between the mobiles.

The small, innocent, harmless drops of rain

Become deadly, purposeful missiles

For it to hurl at anything

And everything in its path.

The mobile gave some protection;

When I stepped out of its warmth

The rain hit my face

With no degree of force,

But I turned it away

And walked to the road

Where the wind ran unobstructed.

It raged fast and hard

And blew on the side of my face,

Rolling round and round in my ear.

I turned and faced into the wind,

And the rain, harder now,

Banged into my face

Sounding like the hammers of a typewriter

Battering their cold words onto my face.

I LIKE…

I like… the smell of cigarette smoke in the air,

and the sound of loud music,

and flashing lights… and darkness

and people shouting and clapping;

I like… cool drinks,

and new clothes

and soft wool

and a gentle wind.

I like… the hot sun,

and the snow.

THE TOUGH WORLD OF A DEDICATED PAPER-BOY

To become a paper-boy or girl you need two main qualities – tact to deal with irate customers who have been given the ‘Beano’ or ‘Teddy Bear’ instead of the ‘Science Master’s Journal’ or whatever, and fitness to enable you to leap a five-barred gate with a heavy bag full of papers over one shoulder and a ravenous Alsatian snapping at your heels.

Dogs are the main trouble on paper-rounds. I say that after spending several weeks with my arm in a sling after it had been savaged by a wolf-hound (well, that’s what it looked like to me!), who had been taught to fetch the paper with its mouth, and who decided that my arm was a mere continuation of the paper, and had tried to take that as well! Of course it’s not all dogs who take a fancy to your arm, but I’d better warn you that it’s not just a postman’s legs they seem to like.

But, dogs apart, doing a paper-round can be most rewarding. It brings you into contact with many different, interesting people – old men who can’t read and just buy a newspaper to stuff down their pipes; old women who use them to wrap up their vegetable peelings, leaving a beetroot stain across Harold Wilson; mothers who buy the papers to keep their children occupied on rainy days by cutting out the pretty pictures; and people who actually buy papers to read.

Paper-rounds also build up your stamina and willpower. I mean, it’s not everyone who can leap gaily(?) out of bed at six o’clock on a cold December morning, with the snow covering the ground and building up almost impenetrable barriers, just to deliver papers to a bunch of sleeping morons.

But don’t let me put you off – delivering papers is a good way to eke out your pocket-money for the latest Elvis LP that you want to buy, and is a good training-ground for any would-be commando.

I LIKE…

I like the sound of a speedy sports car as it revs up before the race;

I like the sound of a football crowd as the home team score a goal;

I like the feel of a fighting fish as it makes its last dash for freedom;

I like the feel of a fish lying still in my hands.

I like the feeling of friendship between one person and another;

I like the feel of a dog’s warm coat when I stroke it;

I like the feeling of knowing I have made someone who was sad, happy;

I like the feeling of warmth between everyone at a family get-together;

I like the feeling of a hot drink going down inside you on a cold day;

I like the feeling of excitement just before something big is going to happen.

ADDITION TO THE FAMILY

I remember with horror the day we got Shadow, our large and friendly Alsatian. When we got him he was a bundle of black and tawny fluff with a wet tongue. There was a lot of disagreement about what to call him. My brother wanted to call him Sausage, but this was waved aside, and he became Shadow simply because he followed me everywhere.

Shadow soon grew up into a healthy, playful bulldozer. Since Shadow would not go with anyone else, I had to take him for walks. Every morning and night I nearly had my arms pulled out of their sockets by his enthusiasm for walkies. When I sternly told him to halt, he would abruptly sit down and look at me reproachfully out of melting brown eyes as much as to say, "What have I done?"

My brother at this time had a hamster and we kept them apart for fear the dog would kill it. One day we left them in the room together and Shadow managed to open the cage and get the hamster out, because when we got home, Shadow was happily washing Hammy with his tongue.

Since nobody was at home during the morning, Shadow had to go in a run. This run was surrounded by ten-foot high wire. It had to be high because he could jump over the other. I arrived home one day to find mother distraught saying that Shadow had gone wild. True enough I went to his run to find him snarling. I had never seen him this mad before. Then I noticed he had a piece of wire in his paw where he had tried to burrow out. We telephoned the RSPCA and a representative came out. Shadow would not let the man even in his run! So I went in armed with tweezers and he was as docile as a lamb, and when I got it out and bathed the paw in TCP, he was pathetically grateful, fawning all over me. As I was kneeling down when he jumped on me, he easily knocked me down, and there he sat on top of me, panting triumphantly as I struggled to get up.

In Shadow, my mother found an infallible alarm clock. At seven o’clock every morning she let him in my room. He would jump on the bed and lick me, and pant in my ear until I woke up. He would then do his best to wriggle under the bedclothes. If he succeeded he would lick my toes, which was a ticklish experience.

Despite his nasty habits of burying bones in my bed, collecting brushes and dragging towels downstairs, I was devoted to him and he to me. If anyone so much as touched me, he flew at them snarling. He looked very ferocious, but if you stood your ground he would probably be content with chewing your laces. However, if you made the mistake of turning and running, he would chase you and pounce knocking you over. He would then sit on you with a smug expression as if saying "… and another one bites the dust".

He had several expressions: there was one where he looked hungrily at your ankle – that meant, "I’m hungry". There was one when he sat on your feet licking your knees – that was "I want to go out for walkies". And there was the one which meant "Idiot!" which he reserved for when I absent-mindedly gave him food when he wanted walkies.

Shadow had several endearing qualities, for instance, he patiently allowed me to rest my feet on him. If I cautioned him he was always on his best behaviour. I think it would have been impossible to find a more loveable dog.

ASLEEP

Over night, very quietly,

Very slowly, at rest, we sleep.

Every limb relaxed.

Every muscle stretched, hands unclenched.

Our nightly pause from reality,

Our form of human recharge.

And when we wake,

The blinding light of a new day meets us.

Around us, a new world,

Fresh and clean, ready for another day…

HAIKU

Thoughts wander

In fields of green corn,

Youthful mind.

I LIKE…

I like soft things, smooth things,

Modern things.

I like to smell the freshness of new bread,

Newly cut grass, and to smell petrol.

I like noise –

Loud noises, soft noises, children’s noise,

Mechanical noise, clanks and thumps,

Bangs and crashes.

I like to feel the nearness of other people;

To touch the soft skin on a peach,

To imagine it is fur, my fur.

I like to taste the bitterness of sour lemons.

I like thunder, loud thunder.

I enjoy watching other people being scared,

I like fire. I become part of the devil

Eating away at wood and coal.

I like big waves coming down upon me and crushing me,

Making me part of the sea.

I like to fly, to look down on the world beneath me

To pretend to be a god.

FULL CIRCLE

One day everything will end.

And then

God will be left

Moving

Over the waters;

A world

Without any form;

A void…

… Genesis.

JOIN THE PROFESSIONALS

Join the professionals

It’s a great life,

Where else can you

Drive a tank, fire a gun,

Travel the world,

Learn to look after yourself?

Join the professionals

Go to Northern Ireland,

Defend the people.

Be the man who pulls the trigger

On the child,

Be the man left bleeding in the street.

FIRST MOON

It glides down,

It gropes,

Parting the grubby coal dust

It grips on the coal beneath,

The savoured first step.

Man meets moon –

Not a word,

Not a sound,

History made.

Then,

The humid caging spacesuit

Clasping my exhilaration.

Then,

The subconscious guilt,

An insult to the black tranquillity,

A crime.

But he’s a hero!

Then,

My ominous long-cast shadow stretching,

Breaking the senile, undulating prairie.

The first human probe is done,

Over,

The moment gone,

Forever.

THE BIRD

The bird fluttered on air, then, limp, fell a thud on the ground below.

The sound jolted the boy’s mind, and, laying down the rifle he ran over to the corpse. As he picked up the bird, its neck bent and the head fell onto its breast; the feathers lay soft. The boy caressed it, hoping life would return, wings flap frantically for freedom, and eyes flood with fear, widening in terror, but a cold eye gazed back, incriminating his very body and soul. He gently laid it in the long grass around the tree, then he stepped back on to the mown lawn and left the bird.

That night the bird entered his sleep and opened his mind to the nightmare world. He saw the bird once more, its eye enlarged in fury. It blinked, and the sky turned black, the tree swept over in branched dome and the grass streaked past and above him. He doubled up and cowered on the earth. The bird shot one claw through his heart. The bird placed him motionless in the long grass around the tree, unfolded its wings, and flew off.

CITY – EARLY MORNING

The muffling of night begins to fade,

As faint glimmers of reddish light

Dart between rows of identical houses

And silent factories slumber on.

No movement, no sound, no evidence of life

Except a slight breeze dancing round the park

Where swings rock gently to and fro, to and fro

In unending regularity.

Reigned by silence, dim red silence,

Penetrating every crack and corner,

Tall, black chimneys standing straight

Able in the half-light to disguise their shame

And appear to the sky

As innocent as early-morning dew.

A church stands serene in solidarity reverence,

And through it all, clock-hands turn and turn

Until…

Bustling people break the silence,

Cars and lorries screeching by.

Chimneys sinful work continues,

Pollution shrouds the cloudy sky.

And dawn, unnoticed, slips away

In solitude, to die.

FEAR

Suddenly, awake,

Thud, thump, bank,

Unfamiliar sounds

Echo through slumbering house.

Clutching torch in clammy hand

Swallow hard, as

Pounding heartbeats

Threaten suffocation,

Force trembling legs,

Anxious, apprehensively,

In direction of noise.

Pause.

Fight rising panic,

Thrust open door,

Ready to deal with

Unwelcome intruder.

Fear and panic subside

As torchlight reveals

Shattered remains of

Father’s latest brew.

COMPUTER

The labyrinth of concrete and corridors

Enshrines a sacred room.

Inside the holiest of holies sits,

Bejewelled and laced in button and cable,

His metal cloak glints on.

Content he sits swaddled in tapes

And forever reeling facts.

His tongue slithers out –

Punched strips and dotted pages emerge

And are filed in never-ending wads.

He smiles on men’s childish progress,

On their pitiful triumphs

Tragic defeats:

Around mill the faithful and awed

Marvelling at his task.

Some tricksters test his knowledge

Before submitting to his power;

New converts come to creep around.

They make their small request, and when

Granted, scuttle away – satisfied.

THE MACHINE

You’ll usually find it in a corner, hardly dangerous,

An invention to which man has become a slave;

Those who aren’t addicted are few and far between,

Its innocuous appearance is an art of deception in itself.

Compact, shining, of different types – some square, some short,

Some sleek – appearance makes no difference

They are all able to be master, working together,

Crying out in unison, ruthlessly efficient, a highly organised group.

Four thin yet firm legs support this delicate machine,

Varying dials its sensual organisms.

A switch or flick of the dial starts up this machine;

Its glaring eye, hypnotic, mesmerising,

Transformed from a box to a technical miracle, too much so,

Together the group can captivate millions at a time,

The better the machine, the better for us, we grow dependant,

Yet a failure or lapse by the machine is annoying and frustrating,

It must be flawless, infallible.

THE WEDDING

Nobody even bothered to tell me about the wedding until three weeks before the happy occasion was due to take place.

Not that I really cared. I did not even want to go. Two days later my sister, who was fourteen, told me she was going to be a bridesmaid, and my other sister, who was seven, was going to be one as well. At first I took no notice, but eventually I had to admit that I was jealous.

For the few days leading up to the wedding, I remained quiet. The bridesmaids’ dresses were long – this was all I was told – and I was furious! I went to Norwich to help choose headdresses, but, as usual, mum changed her mind and decided to buy single flowers to grip into the hair. The flowers that she liked cost 60p each, so she only bought eight, which was just as well because the bride did not like them at all. The next day three headdresses were bought, two for my sisters and one for the groom’s young sister from Nottingham.

The morning of the wedding was sheer confusion. I felt ill and had the ‘flu, every one else had either a cold or a headache. My two sisters and I were at the hairdressers by nine o’clock, and at half past mum and my youngest sister arrived. I thought I was going to faint. I sat under the hairdryer for an hour and thought my hair would drop out if I stayed there for very much longer. I was taken out and shakily walked home.

On reaching home I found dad dressed and waiting. But he had a long wait. Nobody else had left the hairdresser with me; they still weren’t ready. My aunt, her patience exhausted, at last managed to drive the two girls over to the chapel, but mum still was not ready. She could not fit her hat quite right. Finally dad simply picked it up and threw it into the boot of the car.

We arrived at the chapel with ten minutes to spare. We took our places only to find that we were nearly the first people there. Mum kept groaning, thinking of what would happen if my sister tripped over coming down the aisle; dad groaned a few times; my sister cried for Coochie, her favourite toy, while I in turn wanted to get out of the chapel, I felt sick and had a high temperature.

The clock on the wall seemed to function very loudly and exaggerated every moment it made. By a quarter past twelve everyone was beginning to fidget, and still the bride and groom had not appeared. The thought of their jilting each other seemed quite amusing; I smiled for the first time that day, and as I did so the organist began to play the Wedding March. I looked round to see the bride, and behind her my two sisters dressed in long royal purple dresses trimmed with fur, and holding fur muffs and a posy of pink and white rosebuds each. They did not really look like my sisters at all, without trousers and a cut knee their whole appearances were changed. Perhaps it was just as well they were bridesmaids.

BERCHTESGADEN

Here I stood beneath your low, thick arches,

No traffic, for no traffic here can pass,

Your brightly painted walls bearing figures

Of folklore legends of a distant age;

Your pinewood shutters closed to all who search

For something real, not patterns of the mind;

You survive with only your surroundings

From which you’re hewn by solid work of men.

Your cobbled streets now make no sound, are silent,

And doors of oak conceal a resting race

Of those who value not the ways of progress.

How many secrets do you hide from us?

So, tiny wisps of smoke which rise from fires

Pass peacefully to the mountains high above.

DIES IRAE

The sun blazed down as always, yet the light, and the cloudless sky were blood red. The land was still there, but black brown and bloody in the red light. The wind was there, blowing through the piles of stone that had once been the creation and pride of man. A noise was still there, but only the wind, only the whistling of the wind. Besides that there was silence.

From the ruins of the flint church the worshippers would look over the river and down the green, wooded hamlet that was their home.

No more.

There was no longer any river, but a dried, cracking channel. There was no longer a green, wooded hamlet, just a burnt, windswept valley. There was no longer a home; there was nobody to want a home.

So long – life could have been so long for man. The worlds could have been at his feet. He could have been a god himself. Yet it was not to be. Those who have lived for the present, wanted the present for their own, and destroyed all in the process.

In the beginning… and now in the end there was little more, the earth and the wind. In the graveyard but a few stones were left standing. Carved across the top of one, the wind blowing a scree of dust against its base, was the inscription:

‘Perchance the Day of Judgement

Will bring Justice to the Land’.

A FUTURE AND A PAST

‘To the future’ means

Glasses raised, to toast the coming

Of those who come.

‘To the future’ means

Glasses raised, to toast the leaving

Of those who leave.

Come; from where?

Go; to where?

High above, to God’s Almighty Grace?

Down below, to Hell’s damned injustice?

To come again?

As mammal on land,

As fish in water,

As bird in flight,

To come again.

To come; from where

To leave; to go to

Where?

VENICE

There is something magically unique about Venice. It resembles a paradise lost, poised perfectly in the lagoon, with its elegant gondoliers punting their craft romantically beneath decorative stone bridges spanning the shimmering water. The Palais Ducal, a bizarre extravagance of warm, rose-pink stone, mysterious arches and colonnades, squats majestically at the entrance to the vast Piazza San Marco. Pigeons prosper from the mingling of nationalities. The swirl of Strauss rends the air from rival café quartets.

It is not just the occasional relic, restored to enthral, but a complete historic town. Every crevice reeks of ages past. Every glimpse breathes authenticity. Even the narrowest backwater carries the enchantment of bygone days.

And yet, is the world to forfeit this gem, this fairytale kingdom?

Throughout its lifetime Venice has been gradually sinking. In the last fifteen years the rate has accelerated over two inches. Floods are frequent, Venetians are beginning to leave the city for safer dwellings, and the future of the city seems shrouded in doom.

Meanwhile, the enchanted city, the irreplaceable antique which has spurred artists to masterpieces, slips slowly from our grasp.

TIME

The essence of life;

Including and

Making all; the existence of time

Enables.

Time for creation,

Time for damnation.

Time; and endless, impossible wonder

Is TIME.

MY FIRST FLIGHT

At a previous school I was a member of the RAF Cadets. This enabled me to take part in many activities outside school hours. One of these was flying. Twice a term the Cadets were allowed to take a small party to Cambridge, so that they could learn to fly. As I was only 14 at the time I looked forward to this with reservations.

At the school we had been given much tuition. We were told everything we needed to know about our flight, and the parachute drill – even to the extent of being told where the ground was. Once at Cambridge we drew lots to decide who was to fly first. I was to be the third person to fly. My confidence was greatly boosted when I was told that they had had only one accident in the past ten years. Looking like an old man of eighty I struggled out to the aircraft with my parachute on my back. There the pilot introduced himself and together we boarded the plane.

Five minutes later after taxiing across to our runway we were in the air. I told the pilot that I had not flown before, after which he proceeded to show me some basic manoeuvres. Then to my surprise he said, "You have control". I had difficulty in producing the formal reply, "I have control, sir". Then with the control column in my hand I tried to accomplish the same feats as my instructor. The pilot soon regained control after I had had a few dismal failures. To end the flight the pilot took me on a quick sightseeing tour of the area which I was visiting. Then after forty-five minutes of flight the instructor landed me safely on the ground and this was the conclusion of my first flight.

DON’T WASTE RUBBISH!

Have you given any thought to your dustbin recently?

If not, you may be doing yourself and your children more harm than you can possibly realise at the moment. Consider what the family dustbin (or dustbins!) holds. Now multiply that pile of rubbish by the number of dustbins in the road in which you live, now by the number in your town, by the number of towns and cities in Britain, and finally by all the dustbins in the world. Well, can you see over the top of the pile? I doubt it, as it would easily envelop Norwich completely.

The individual items in your dustbin deserve some thought too. Those potato-peelings, apple-cores and vegetables could go on a compost-heap at the bottom of the garden. The papers, magazines and cardboard containers could be burnt or sold to be used again (think of the tree left standing because your newspaper is made from ‘second-hand’ paper). The glass bottles and jars could be taken to a re-cycling depot and any rags or clothes sent to jumble sales or collections for the blind.

So many things could be done, and those above are just a few of the ways in which rubbish can really be put to use. This country’s councils would be up to fifty million pounds richer, and money previously spent on collection and disposal of rubbish used to improve your local environment.

So please – spare a thought for your dustbin.

NOTES ON SOCIAL INEPTITUDE

How can I see

When I am nothing but a feeler

Of sad noises, of atmospheres

With voids, and patches levered

Off the peeling thoughts

Of painted pessimism?

How can I be

A socialite – in naturalness

As friendly every day;

In drowsy mornings as when I breathe in darkness

Where pinks and reds are nullified,

Aloof attentiveness returns…

But that is an excuse.

I see a way across these holes,

It is to start to socialise and

Gather impetus until you

Shoot across blank insecurity.

Love widely and unsurety is gone

(Imploding wildly upon an apathy which

Beckoned it, and now is stunned).

This should shake foundation0deep the souls of men,

Facing them with an eternal truth,

So, you are what you are,

And you are liked.

Yet – Hesitate

Before the brink

Of darkness, void.

A tendency

To shrink

At moral

fortitude

To break the link

Of solitude

Is your desire

Yet – To try this out

Is to complicate the complication of the 3D void; and so the spaces in the human nature, filled

as they are with feeling, sighted and defined, yet impossible to view from our point, coupled with a

sensitivity, tentativeness of communication…

The atoms in the air collide,

Elastic impacts, easy and designed

A simple rebound, no entanglement,

No hurt, nor bruising of the neutron

Yet

Billions of creatures inhabit this world;

Each one has its process of life to persue;

To live, to learn to live, or yearn to die

Egotist, no fool, they do not think of you.

Reason is all.

But the walls are filled with countless bacteria, the floor is covered with millions of dust particles;

the aforementioned nothingness crystallizes into set attitudes, swishes with pliant folds of reason,

detaches most with minutiae, and hundreds of them, thousands of –

Feelings whirl

Reason shrivels

Fingers curl

Below a face

Defaced with myriad

Reddish pinpricks

Alternation

Hot, dumb,

Cold, numb

Silence

Crashes into black, miasmal

PANIC

SPORT

ATHLETICS 1973

In the school Sports held on the 16^th May Fleming were over-all winners, with 20 records being equalled or broken. Three of these were in the Girls’ hurdles – P. Daniel (1^st Year), C. Taylor (2^nd Year) and C. Harvey (3^rd Year). In the 4^th Year Girls throwing events there were three more records: H. Skipper (Javelin), S. Mudway (Discus) and E. Slaughter (Shot). Good performances by 2^nd Year Boys included records by P. Howard in the Hop, Step & Jump, Hughes in the Shot, and Moss in the 1500 metres. In Taylor’s 800 metres run and Hammond’s Discus and Hammer throws also set new performances.

Both the Junior and Intermediate Athletics teams were successful at Sprowston, Thorpe Grammar taking both shields.

The County Sports held on our own field again saw our competitors in good form, and 38 of them were in the Norwich District team, J. Woolner and M. James continuing their successes in the sprints, G. Harris with the Javelin, A. Royall the Discus and I. Taylor the 800 metres. All these gained selection to the Quadrangular Sports at Lakenham, together with E. Tink and P. Thaxton (High Jump), G. Pointer (Long Jump), P. Daniel (Hurdles), Hammond (Discus) and White (Hammer).

Following the Quadrangular Sports, J. Woolner, E. Tink, M. James, Hammond and Harris represented the County in the 7 Counties Meeting, with Greg Harris competing in the All-England Championship, where he gained 8^th position in the Junior Boys’ Javelin.

The Relay Competitions which gave our athletes further competition saw further success for our girls, with both teams competing in the Lakenham finals, which the Intermediate Girls’ team won, narrowly beating Wymondham College. The Boys’ teams were not so successful, although the Junior team did very well in several events in the first round held at Heartsease School.

Our athletes competed for 5 star awards, and many gained four and five star badges.

BASKETBALL 1973

BOYS

Although our success rate was not good (we won only one of ten matches), the team enjoyed their matches and there was never a shortage of players. Our most resounding defeat was suffered at the hands of Wymondham Secondary who beat us 94-18 on our first encounter. The margin was reduced on our next meeting 60-28.

With regular coaching from Mr Dolding and good attendance at most of the training sessions our techniques have improved and we hope to have greater success this season.

TEAM SQUAD: Allcock, Ayers, Balls, Brown, Fuller, Gibbs, Harper, Hodgson, Holland and Wright.

GIRLS

An inexperienced but enthusiastic team began the season with four friendly matches – all of which were lost. Much was learned from these games because the players improved tremendously and went on to win their first four games in the Norfolk Under 16 Girls’ League. Next followed a very exciting game against a team which proved to be their greatest rivals – Wymondham Secondary School, who were the only team to defeat Thorpe both at home and away, but in very closely fought matches. In League matches we scored a total of 356 points, and our most convincing win was against Sprowston: 74-6.

The U16 squad 1973

Two players – Lyn Riches and Valerie Moore – were selected to play in the Under 16 County team. Valerie captained the Norfolk team against Essex, and both were awarded County colours.

Some Sixth Form girls played in a Senior squad against such opposition as UEA, Keswick Hall, and Yarmouth Ladies. The climax of the season came with a friendly match against Chantry School, Ipswich, when every player seemed to find her best form. Chantry were very hard-pushed to win by 51-48 points.

Regular practice, hard work and a lively team spirit greatly improved the standard of play; and there was some encouraging support from the Boys’ squad throughout the season.

TEAMS: 5^th Year: L. Riches (Capt), V. Moore, J. Morris, S. Futter, P. Dade, C. Emery and A. Smith.

4^th and 3^rd Years: E. Tink, E. Slaughter, A. Suggett, D. Gowers, A. Hudson, A. Evans and J. Milne.

CHESS 1972-73

This season both chess teams achieved good results in the League. The Junior Team put up a remarkably sustained performance remaining unbeaten in twelve matches. This is the second time in succession that the Junior Team has come top of the League.

JUNIOR TEAM: chosen from: A. Hearne (Capt), P. Ansell, R. Howard, M. Hill, B. Harding and T. Cianchi.

The Senior Team also had a good season, but unfortunately for the second year finished runners-up in the championship, the only defeat being against Wymondham. In the Sunday Times Tournament we were successful in four rounds before losing to Wymondham again.

SENIOR TEAM: J. Dawson (Capt), N. Baker, D. Harding, A. Royall and W. Matthews.

We would like to thank Mr Howard for his continued support and encouragement.

CRICKET 1973

TEAM: 1^st Year: Anderton (Capt), Taylor, Gascoyne, Leggett, Browning, Webster, McHale, Betts, Corbett, Hall.

The majority of runs were scored by Browning, Gascoyne and Taylor, with a partnership of over 70 in one of the early matches scored by Gascoyne (44) and Browning (38). The fielding of the team was quite fair and the bowling good, with Hall, Anderton and Gascoyne being major wicket-takers.

Anderton, the Captain, played regularly for the Under 13 League team with some good bowling figures in these matches. Of the matches played, 2 were won and 2 were lost – the last against King’s Lynn Grammar School rather badly. The team tended to become impatient, often giving up their wicket with little resistance. It is hoped that as a result of coaching techniques there may be better results and a more thoughtful approach next season.

2^nd Year: Team: Gunton, Lythgoe, Wright, Cocking (Capt), Landamore, Hampson, Howard, Judge, Byles, Eastman, Topping, Livingstone.

The team played well throughout the season, winning a majority of their matches. Our first win was in a League match against Wymondham Secondary, in which we scored 82 for 5, Wymondham 37 all out. In this match Lythgoe gained the highest team score of the season, 40. Other results in our favour were wins against Swaffham, Hewett (twice), and Yarmouth. In the latter match Thorpe scored 91 for 9 (Cocking 34, Lythgoe 8 wickets for 27) to Yarmouth’s innings of 61. However we lost our final match against King’s Lynn Grammar School.

3^rd Year: Team: Denton (Capt), Webster, Moore, Bardwell, Bird, Stubbs, Armes, Minors, Dickerson, Garrod, Killington, King.

The Under 14 team made a good start by beating CNS (Eaton) in their first match, the whole team playing well in that match. Rain stopped play in the second match against Langley, with Thorpe in commanding position with 103 on the board. In the first round of the Esso cup they were unfortunate to meet such a strong team as Wymondham College, who beat them decisively. In mid-season some players were not available, and results were not so good, but the team finished the season on a high note against Thetford (Thorpe 119 for 5 declared, Denton 50 not out; Thetford dismissed for 76 runs). Michael Webster was the main wicket-taker, ably supported by Denton, Bird and Minors.

4^th Year: Team: Critchfield (Capt), English, Forder, Ayers, Whurr, Lambert, Allcock, Newman, Williamson, C. Evans, Santo.

The Under 15 team had their best season as a team. We reached the final of the Scott-Chadd, losing to King’s Lynn Grammar School on a Wymondham College pitch. In preliminary matches in this competition we beat Alderman Jex and Yarmouth Grammar School. Of the games played 5 were wins, 3 draws and 2 losses. The scores were usually quite high, with our bowling also of a good standard. Several of the team members played in the 1^st XI matches and three team members were selected for Norfolk – English, Critchfield and Forder. In one of the Norfolk matches English scored a half-century.

1^st and 2^nd XI

The season saw better than normal results for the Senior teams. Unfortunately the 2^nd XI had few games. Ably captained by Stephen Clark, they achieved one of their best performances against Langley School when Richard Hall scored 48 and Michael Stangroom 62.

The 1^st XI had a highly successful season.

Team: Rowe (Capt), Mason, Banham, Kemp, P. Moore, A. Moore, Neave, Lawes, Tibbenham, A. Tibbenham, Futter.

It started with the bowling performances rather better than the batting – Banham and Moore doing most of that damage. Fortunately the batting improved following the example of the captain, Jeremy Rowe. His first lesson was a fine century in a first wicket partnership of 160 against Fakenham. Mason was 53 not out in this match. Jeremy followed this with a second century against Thetford, and three days later another at Bungay. He also scored 65 against UEA, and not content with batting, he took 7 wickets against Yarmouth. His performances gave inspiration to the team and played a large part in the team’s success. Not surprisingly he was again selected for the Norfolk Schools Team. The final match of the season was against the Staff, Mr Childs scoring 72 in a drawn game.

CROSS-COUNTRY 1973

The local roads and paths again took a pounding from the training sessions of this rather arduous sport. However, the sessions proved worthwhile at the area run when the Junior Boys’ team took the cup for the first time, narrowly beating off a strong challenge from St Andrew’s. Wyatt, Nelson, Ian Taylor, Moss, Anderton and Leversedge were the scorers.

Junior Boys team 1973

The Intermediate race was rather disappointing, with Critchfield being our first runner home at thirteenth, while a strong Hellesdon team had six men home in the first nine.

The Girls’ team gained second places in the 1^st and Intermediate age groups, and third place in the Junior age group.

From these races J. Owler, A. Bateman, C. Denny, J. Clayton, Wyatt and Nelson went on to represent the Norwich District in the County run at Dereham, Jill Clayton being further selected for the Six Counties and All-England races.

In Norfolk Women’s AAA races at Caister two Under 12 teams finished 3^rd and 7^th, and two Under 14 teams 5^th and 7^th.

On the Home front in the Inter-House races some good team running gave close results in most year groups, with the individual winners being:

GIRLS BOYS

1^st Year E. Harvey M. Anderton

2^nd Year L. Daniel K. Wyatt

4^th Year J. Owler I. Taylor

3^rd Year A. Bateman D. Critchfield

FOOTBALL 1972-73

1^st Year: Team: Taylor, Jackson, Cotton, Murray, McHale, Webster, Warren, Gascoyne, Corbett, Anderton (Capt), Newman, Tyce, Ming, Kempton, Cann.

The team played 14 matches, winning 8, losing 5 and drawing 1. After a rather poor start they gradually improved. The captain, Anderton, was also the top scorer with 28 goals, and Gascoyne scored 11.

2^nd Year: Team: Cocking, Chaney, Eastman, Janes, Howard, Stanger (Capt), Lythgoe, Hughes, Topping, Beer, Gunton, Whiley.

The defence of the team was good, especially Howard whose strong kicking gave the forwards, Gunton, Topping and Hughes, plenty of scoring chances. The team finished second in the League to Hewett by one point. They lost 5-4 to Jex in a high scoring cup match at home. Gunton (49) and Hughes (20) were the team’s top scorers.

Cup winners, 3rd year footy squad 1973

3^rd Year: Team: Dickerson, Brister, G. Mickleburgh, Page, Bird, Nelson, Armes, I. Taylor (Capt), Graves, Webster, King, Clarke, Smith.

The team got off to a bad start early in the season, losing the majority of their games. This was partly due to a very unsettled team. Gradually, though, things began to look better and after a few team changes the side settled down and began to play well, especially in the cup. We reached the semi-final of the cup and played CNS (Eaton); in a thrilling, hard-fought match we just edged them out, winning 3-2.

We then played Sprowston in the final. A week beforehand we drew in a League game away to Sprowston 1-1, and so knew the final would prove difficult. But with good and encouraging support from the touchline we all played well, and eased home with a 2-0 victory, Nicky King scoring both goals to retain the cup for the second successive season. We had only achieved a middle of the table position in the League, but in winning the cup had turned a seemingly less successful season into one of triumph.

4^th Year: Team: Ladbrooke, Whurr, Sayer (Capt), Court, Ayers, Allcock, Critchfield, Stocker, Morris, Watmore, Stanger, Sillis, Murphy.

Last year’s Under 15 team suffered from inconsistency. The team was knocked out of the Bury Cup by CNS (Eaton) in the 1^st Round and finished about mid-League. However, some good results were obtained, such as a home win over Bowthorpe, one of the League’s better sides, and also big scores in County friendly matches. Our best achievement was in the local 7-a-side when we narrowly came second to Hewett. The team’s leading scorer was Watmore. Allcock and myself were lucky enough to be in the County Under 15 side, for which we received our County colours. A special word of thanks to Mr Childs for giving up so much of his time for refereeing and coaching.

1^st XI & THURSDAY LEAGUE

1^st XI Team: Harris, Buckerfield, Kemp, Hall, C. Tibbenham, Moore (V Capt), Whiley (Capt), Jarvis, Gilbert, A. Tibbenham.

Thursday League Team: C. Tibbenham, Buckerfield, G. Dawson, Culham, Kemp, Mason, P. Moore, Whiley (Capt), Perfitt, Gilburt (Treas), Futter, Mr A. Dewey.

Unfortunately both teams had a rather poor season. The 1^st XI lost twelve matches and won two; the Thursday League team did rather better in winning six and drawing five of their 22 games.

Despite rather poor results those who represented the school looked forward to their matches and enjoyed them. The results could have been better, I feel, if all players had been available for selection and had turned up rather more regularly for training. We appreciate the interest taken by the Staff who turned out to referee or supervise our games.

2^nd XI/Under 16 Team: Perfitt, Forder, Hawkes, Mann, Clark, Davison, Harris. Moore, Weldon, Smith, Banham, Livingstone, Sealey.

Probably the most successful of the Senior sides, consisting mainly of fifth year players, the team played attractive, controlled football, with Sealey often among the goals. Hawkes was one of the stronger tacklers while Banham also shared in good mid-field distribution. Clark and Perfitt shared the captaincy of these teams.

All concerned would like to thank Thorpe Parish Council for permission readily given to use pitches on the Recreation Ground on a number of occasions when the two schools had more matches than pitches.

HOCKEY 1972-73

The Hockey season was certainly enjoyed by all players, and their keenness and enthusiasm did much to maintain their previous year’s standard.

The Senior XI played only six matches, there being no note-worthy victories or defeats. Their captain, Jill Clayton, was selected as Reserve Goalkeeper for Norfolk Schools.

The highlight of the Under 15 XI’s season was their winning the Norwich Schools and District Tournament against the Blyth School in November, and the Norfolk Hockey Tournament against Dereham at the end of the season. In between, 11 friendly matches were played, of which we won 5 and lost 6. The team suffered a mid-season setback in the loss of their captain, Julie Brown, who was away with glandular fever. Valerie Day acted as captain and did an excellent job for the rest of the season.

U14 team 1973

The Under 14 XI Hockey team provided strong opposition: of 12 matches they won 9, drew 1 and lost 2. The defence conceded only 6 goals, and the attack, led by their captain, Julie Owler, scored 26 goals. Their season ended triumphantly with their winning the Norwich Schools and District Under 14 Tournament against Reepham and the Under 14 League.

Keenness and enthusiasm are certainly descriptive of the Under 13 XI, whose captain, Kate Ladbrooke, sets a high standard for the rest of the team to follow. Through continued practice they began to enjoy success towards the end of the season, and won the last 3 of 6 matches.

NETBALL

Netball was played by all age groups last season, most of the teams having mixed results. The most successful was the Under 14 team who won 5 of their 9 matches; the Under 15 and Under 13 teams played in the League, both finishing in quite good positions. At both ends of the age-range, the Senior and Under 12 teams had few matches because of lack of opposition.

However, 5 members of the Senior team – Lyn Riches, Valerie Moore, Jill Morris, Penny Sandford and Bridget Barrett – were selected to play in the senior area team from North Norfolk, gaining much match practice. In a similar team for the Under 15 age group, Thorpe were well represented again by Elizabeth Tink, Sarah Eccles, Joanna Hughff, Elizabeth Slaughter and Lynn Harman.

A final verdict – not one of our most successful years, but thoroughly enjoyable.

THE RIFLE CLUB

The Club entered a team of five (K. Dawson, J. Butcher, P. Riseborough, I. Chisholm and F. Payne) for the 1972-73 Winter League competition of the Norfolk County Rifle Association. After a generous share of luck in the early rounds we led our particular Division, but in the last round we were defeated by King’s Lynn, in spite of achieving our highest collective score of the whole competition.

I. Chisholm and K. Dawson were also entered for the Individual Rifle League and were moderately successful.

The Fifth Form group contained some keen marksmen who made good progress during the year; as Lower Sixth Formers S. Joles and K. Browning are continuing to shoot and will join A. Howarth, I. Chisholm and P. Riseborough to form the Winter League Team for 1973-74.

Unfortunately the Range has suffered from the unwelcome attention of vandals, and Mr Youngs and his colleagues on the Ground Staff have been kept busy repairing damage. We are very grateful for all they have done for us.

Full colours were awarded to P. Riseborough, I. Chisholm, F. Payne, and J. Butcher. K. Dawson had been awarded colours in the previous year.

ROUNDERS 1972-73

All rounders teams had a generally successful season, and the warm weather made the matches much more enjoyable.

The Under 12 team, captained by Jane Walker, was very successful; they won 5 games and lost 1 to Gorleston Grammar by one rounder.

The Under 13 team varied in strength, owing to some key players being involved in tennis matches, and this resulted in a mixed set of results – won 4, lost 4 and drew 1. Their most outstanding victory was against Sprowston, when they gained 18 rounders and conceded only 3. Their captain, Jacqueline Milne, set a high standard of play for the rest of the team, especially in fielding.

The Under 14 team have for the second year maintained an unbeaten record by winning all their matches. In all they gained 41 rounders and conceded only 16. Their captain, Alison Evans, certainly worked hard to keep up their standard.

The Under 15 team were very enthusiastic, but unfortunately few schools could provide opposition. They played 3 matches, winning 2.

ROWING

Rowing at the school has seen some lean years, but last year the Fourth Form crews showed great potential. Although they only entered two regattas – Whitlingham and Peterborough – they performed well for an inexperienced crew.

The Senior crew only entered one regatta, Peterborough, in which they were unplaced. This was mainly due to the fact that two members of the crew were relatively inexperienced. However, Alistair Macallan, last year’s captain, did have some success in that he won the Yare Club Handicap Sculling Trophy.

Looking into the future, I hope the present Fifth Form will continue with their rowing and bring back trophies. This year, moreover, rowing has been written into the Fourth Form timetable and the response was very good.

On behalf of the Rowing Club I should like to thank Mr Cooper of the Yare Rowing Club, and Mr Oxbury and Mr Knights of the Norwich Union for their enormous help and support, without which rowing at Thorpe would not be possible.

SAILING

The year has been fairly successful for sailors in the school. In team matches we beat Norwich School twice and Langley once, losing none of our contests. After the Norfolk Schools trials the following were selected to represent Norfolk at the National Schools Regatta on Grafham Water: Carolyn Adcock, Jill Clayton, Anna Suggett, D. Buckerfield, P. Day, M. Clayton, M. Gilburt, J. Leech and P. Strickland. One the cruising side, some Second Formers, instructed by members of staff and Sixth Formers, had a week learning how to handle Broads sailing cruisers, which most did very competently by the end of the week. It is hoped that this will be continued in future years.

In connection with the year’s sailing activities, M. Gilburt was awarded the Chay Blyth Trophy, and colours were awarded to C. Adcock, S. Davey, J. Clayton, Bond, Cullum, Clayton and Shute. J. Leech received his RYA Intermediate Proficiency Certificate, and he and Strickland were awarded half-colours.

SWIMMING 1972-73

The Third and Fourth Year House Galas were held prior to the League matches, and were used to some extent in selecting the League team. The fact that no regular swimming time is available for these years had this observable result: some of the better swimmers of previous years who had not continued to train were beaten by club members who were more water-fit. In the Third Year Gala, I. Taylor, King, Harris and Greengrass figured prominently among the boy winners, while Alison and Julie Hudson, Pamela Thaxton and Rowena Unsworth were among the more successful girls. In the Fourth Year Gala, Manning was a double winner for Britten boys, as was Joy Harvey for Britten girls. Other good performances came from Anna Suggett, Vivien Lee, Elizabeth Trilsbach, Critchfield, Ayers, Allcock and Leech.

The Junior Galas were held later in the year and because of longer sessions a greater number of events was able to be covered. Again, the League members showed the benefit of more regular training, but other members of these years made good efforts too. Among the successful Second Year competitors were F. Brundish, S. Billingham, J. Searle, F. Laird and S. Butcher (girls); and Pinnock, Howard, Hughes, Hill, Mann, Bygrave and Hummel (boys). In the First Year Gala J. Read, D. Jack, K. Potter, C. Pye and V. Daniels (girls) and Allen, Rowe, Hummel and Paul and Neil Henery distinguished themselves.

The League matches gave regular competition for the teams involved. The boys team again ended second to Hellesdon, while the girls were third.

In the heats and finals of the Norfolk Gala our successes were relatively few, although the Senior squads did finish 1^st (boys) and 2^nd (girls) in their section. Kevin Bishop, David Meigh, Anne Pinching and Ruth Lee were selected for the County team.

One further friendly gala was held in the summer term where the boys swam against the Norwich School. The Junior section of this was quite even, but Alistair Asher, one of the outstanding swimmers in the County, gave our opponents the advantage in the Senior events – James Lynn now being a professional and therefore ineligible.

TENNIS

BOYS

The 1973 season proved to be most successful for the younger players in the school. The Under 15 team took the Stevenson cup for the first time since 1962, beating Gaywood Park and Fakenham on the way to the final, in which Thorpe beat a strong Norwich School side by 5 rubbers to 4. In an Easter Regional Under 16 tournament at Cambridge, Forder and Ladbrooke succeeded in winning the plate event.

The Senior team had a rather disappointing season: we lost our friendly match with Norwich School and after reaching the semi-final of the Moore cup, had to withdraw because of player-difficulties.

It is encouraging to note that Smith, Harris and Ladbrooke were selected to represent the County, and also that there are several promising youngsters in the lower year groups.

GIRLS

The summer term last season was particularly short and as a result the performances of the tennis teams suffered. Both Under 15 and Senior teams were quickly eliminated from the Youngs and Marriot cups, but as these matches were played during the first weeks of the season, the teams had had little practice.

As the season progressed, results improved as more match practice was gained. The Senior team eventually won 3 of their 7 matches, as did the Under 15 team; both the Under 14 and Under 13 teams finished with more wins than losses to their credit. Several members of the school teams had considerable success in local tennis tournaments.

At the end of the term the annual staff matches took place; the 1^st six from the school managed a 5-4 victory, but the 2^nd six lost 3-6, with a team containing two Sixth Form boys who were appropriately dressed for the part.

HOUSE COMPETITIONS

GIRLS

Throughout the year there are matches in games lessons between the four houses in a variety of sports. The results are as follows:

1^st Year 2^nd Year 3^rd Year 4^th Year

Netball B C C C

Hockey C F B C

Athletics C B C F

Rounders F F B F

Tennis - F F C

Swimming B H C B

Basketball - B C C

Cross-Country B C F H

CHAMPION HOUSE B F C C

House Captains:

Britten Cavell Fleming Hillary

4^th Year J. Harvey E. Slaughter J. Brown L. Harman

3^rd Year T. Baker A. Hudson J. Owler E. King

2^nd Year G. Pointer J. Leeds C. Baker K. Ladbrooke

1^st Year H. Deeks P. Daniel S. Goodyear S. King

BOYS

1^st Year 2^nd Year 3^rd Year 4^th Year

6 a side Football F B F C

11 a side Football F F F H

Swimming Gala F C H F

Rugby H F C F

Cross-country F F F H

Indoor Football H B H B

Basketball F C F F

Cricket F-C F H B

Athletics H F F H

Hockey F-C H C H

CHAMPION HOUSE F F F F

House Captains:

Britten Cavell Fleming Hillary

4^th Year Sayer Critchfield Allcock Stocker

3^rd Year Tyce Bardwell Webster Denton

2^nd Year Stanger Chaney Cocking Bygrave

1^st Year Taylor Lewis Cotton Anderton

In the house sporting activities Fleming made a clean sweep, winning all four year groups. In many of the activities the final placings were decided by the B, C and D teams, and it was therefore depth of ability and team organisation that counted, not just the result of the 1^st house team.

TRAMPOLINE CLUB

The Trampoline Club under the director of David Hipperson has captured the interest and enthusiasm of many pupils from the First to the Sixth years. The standard has much improved and a team was formed to compete against Jex School towards the end of the season. The first fixture was naturally very exciting, and though we did not win, tremendous enjoyment was gained by all. It is hoped to have further fixtures, and enter the BTF Proficiency Awards.

OLD BOYS FOOTBALL CLUB

I have little to report about last season as far as the Old Boys are concerned, except that we escaped relegation to Division 4 of the Anglian Combination by just one point. However, important games were won at the end of the season enabling us to stay in Division 3 this year. The Reserves had a season of consolidation and are now in Division 3 of the Business Houses Leagues.

The prospects for the current season are good – especially for the Reserves who seem to have a good blend of youth and experience now, and should, with reasonable luck, attain a good position in the League. However, the Club itself needs more support from the pupils at the school if it is to survive in a healthy state, and we are finding it extremely difficult to get in touch with either past or present members of TGS. This is unfortunate because the future of the Club depends on young players.

Tuesday evenings are our training session nights for this season. We meet at the school, and any new member, whether schoolboy or not, will always be welcomed by myself, or Club Captain Trevor Jarman, or Vice-Captain John Murrell. Seven o’clock is the time we meet, and we normally have a get together afterwards.

THE PARENT TEACHER ASSOCIATION

This has been another year of achievement, marked by two particular events: the finishing of the Pavilion and the purchase of the Mini-bus.

The setting aside of money for a pavilion was approved at a general meeting in January 1962 and the building has grown gradually over the years as funds permitted, until the final touches were added early this year. The Pavilion has cost some £1,300 and now stands as a permanent reminder of the interest and co-operation of countless parents for the benefit of the school.

Our contribution to the Mini-bus amounted to almost £800, helped, I must add, by various sponsored efforts for which we were most grateful, and the bus is now of course in service. Perhaps we should start saving for its replacement!

Activities for the year commenced with the 1972 AGM, which included a most instructive talk by staff members on Science Teaching in the school. Next there was a most successful Christmas Fair, followed by the annual Whist Drive, and in the summer there was another of the popular Wine and Cheese evenings. All of this achieved our dual objectives of getting together socially and raising funds.

We are pleased to welcome to our committee meeting in September two pupil members of the School Council who made a very useful contribution to the proceedings. We hope that PTA members will be able to look in at Council meetings occasionally.

We have arranged an Old Time Music Hall by Chic Applin on November 12^th and hope that we shall fill the school hall for that evening. Details of this and other activities will be circulated.

Finally an appeal once again for the support of all parents both at district meetings and the main activities. By participating fully in the PTA we help the school and ourselves for the ultimate benefit of our children.

NEWS OF FORMER PUPILS

During the past year we have heard of several students who are making their mark in the theatre.

STEPHEN JAMES ADAMS has had a particularly successful year. As a member of the English Opera Group he

created the part of the Glassblower in the world premiere of Benjamin Britten’s opera

‘Death in Venice’ at the Alborough Festival, and has subsequently performed the work at

Brussels. As I write, he is performing this and other operas at Sadlers Wells, and is

later to play at Covent Garden and to record the work.

 

SALLY BOURKE in her third year at Oxford, was praised by the Guardian reviewer for her costume

designs for a production of ‘The Boyfriend’.

 

In a recent letter from MONICA YOUNGER she tells us that having completed her course at Arts Educational in London with a teaching qualification in ballet and modern dance, she spent the summer season dancing in a Music Hall show at Brighton and Yarmouth before leaving for Munich to continue her ballet training at the Bayerisches Staatsoper. When last heard of NEIL INNES was touring with the Monty Python team.

The Bowthorpe Road Laboratory of the West Norwich Hospital seems to be staffed from Thorpe, for CAROL ROBINSON was saying recently that her colleagues include JULIA BURTON, CAROLYN ADCOCK, JOHN ADDY and RICHARD OLIVER. NICK BOLTON is also at the West Norwich, where he is responsible for a psychiatric training unit.

Nick’s brother JONATHAN married RACHEL KING. Both have gained degrees at Nottingham, he in Law, she in Mathematics.

Other recent degree results we have heard of include those of:

JUDITH CHURCH (First Class Honours in Computing related to Management, Hatfield Polytechnic)

JACQUELINE BRIND (Librarianship, University of Wales – now the Film Librarian for Visnews, a film news

company based in London).

 

COLIN RICHES, JANET COLBOURN, TIMOTHY FITZMAURICE, IAN YOUNGMAN and ANTHONY MIRAMS.

At the end of their first year at university, DOUGLAS STANNARD, LYNDA WILKINSON and MICHAEL GOODYEAR did particularly well.

MAGGIE BREAM wrote from Denmark to say that she has decided to make her permanent home there

and to enter a Danish teachers training college.

 

FRANK FULLER since graduating in Economics at the University of Lancaster, has been working with

Shell. Based in London, he has recently spent some time in Borneo, and at the time of writing is in the United States.

 

PETER MURRELL too is in the USA on a PhD course in Government Finance. He travelled 6,000 miles

during his summer vacation.

 

Also in the States on PhD studies is RYSZARD KOBYLECKI with his wife, MARY (nee ATHOW).

JOHN MURRELL is nearing the end of his articles in Chartered Accountancy. His wife, SHEILA (nee

JARMAN) is working as one of the Senior Secretaries at Tom Smith’s.

 

Sheila’s sister, CHRISTINE is married to MIKE TAGG, now an Adidas Sales Representative in Cheshire. Of other ex-Thorpe married couples, BRIAN JOHNSTON is Exchange Superintendent of Lowestoft Telephone Exchange, while VALERIE (nee GODBOLD) works for Commercial Union Insurance; her sister, VIVIEN, married to PETER SHRUBSALL, is a Lecturer at Leeds University and STEPHEN DONALD, husband of JENNIFER (nee BARRETT), works for Lotus Cars.

Of the many others who might be mentioned, one would not like to forget congratulations to PAUL SUSSAMS who has signed professional terms with West Ham FC. Good wishes too to GRAHAM BURDICK who, in addition to his Artwork for the Norwich Union, has opened a record shop in Grove Road – Mouse Music.

Each year we include randomly items of information which reach the school. We apologise to those not mentioned who might have so wished. However, the remedy is in your own pens…

SECRETARY : Mrs F. Leech

CLERICAL ASSISTANTS : Mrs P.A. Rising, Mrs E.B.B. Painter

LIBRARY ASSISTANT : Mrs L.T. Parker

LABORATORY TECHNICIANS : Mr E.G. Camm, Mr D. Hipperson, Mr H.E. Watkins

LABORATORY ASSISTANTS : Mrs S. Fincham, Mrs A. Dent (to September 28^th), Mr N. Spalding

CARETAKERS : Mr R.D. Douglas, Mr G. Jay

CLEANERS : Mrs C. Bassett, Mrs P. Douglas, Mrs F. Gould, Mrs E. Howard,

Mrs J. Metcalf, Mrs E. Nobbs, Mrs L. Smith, Mrs W. Steward, Mr R. Taylor

KITCHEN STAFF :

Supervisor – Mrs E. Mitchell

Mrs K. Whitehouse, Mrs S. Bilham, Mrs E. Bloxham, Mrs M. Burgess, Mrs B. Pechey, Mrs L. Cullen, Mrs S. Dady,

Mrs D. Forder, Mrs M. Larkins, Mrs A. Pye, Mrs J. Rigby, Mrs E. Tubby, Mrs E. Whurr

GROUNDSMEN : Mr G. Youngs

Mr D. Boast, Mr R. Woods

TELEPHONE 33635