NIIEIIS 1982

Y

Schoo l Magazine

School Diary 1981-82

AUTUMN TERM September 9 Term begins

22 Parents' Guild A.G.M. 24 Harvest Festival 25 O.G.A. Miss Percy shows slides

of her Sabbatical trip to Switzerland and France

28 German party in school

October 12 6 Lower English groups attend course on 'The Age of Shakespeare' at the V. and A. Museum

15 Presentation of '0' level certificates by Mr. Davenport who spoke on Crisis at Christmas

19 6 Upper Parents' evening 21 Governors' meeting 22 Classics symposium

26-30 Half-term

November 6 U15 Trust Netball 10 Piano Sight Reading Prize 16 Junior Parents' evening 17 6 Lowers attend workshop on

'The Winter's Tale' at Questor's Theatre

18 Prospective Parents' evening 20 6th form History of Art group to

Tate Gallery: talk by Richard Humphreys on Surrealism and exhibition of works by contemporary British artists

23 3 Upper Parents' evening 26 Senior Concert 28 6 Lowers visit Young Vic for

performance of 'The Winter's Tale'

December 1 String Prize 4 Lower Parents' evening

4,11 5 Lower Careers talks 10, 11, 12 School Play: 'Much Ado about

Nothing' 17 Carol Service 18 Term ends

SPRING TERM January 11 Term begins

21 4 Upper Careers Talk 26 Polunin (piano) Prize

February 3 3 Upper Entry (Written) examination

15-19 Half-term

15 6 Uppers see performance of 'King Lear' at Orange Tree, Richmond

23 Marriott (Ensemble) Prize

24 5 Upper Parent's evening

27 Madrigal Choir concert: 'Dido and Aeneas'

March 1 3 Upper Entry (Oral)

5 Senior Netball Rally

10 Senior Instrumental concert

12 6th form History of Art group to Tate Gallery: talk by Simon Wilson on Abstract Art and visit to the Landseer exhibition

15 6 Lower Parents' evening 16, 17 Junior School offering:

'Robinson Hood'

17 Hockey Rally 18,19 5 Uppers see performances of

'Macbeth' at Orange Tree, Richmond

24 Senior Acting to parents

25 Senior Acting Competition 26 Term ends

SUMMER TERM

April 19 Ramah Ezra examination 20 Term begins

28 4 Upper Parents' evening

May 6 Wind Prize

8 Senior Choral concert 11, 12 6 Lower careers talks

24 Junior Acting to Parents

25 Junior Acting Competition

27 6th form History of Art group to the Tate Gallery: talk by Richard Humphreys on Modern Sculpture and visit to the Graham Sutherland exhibition Junior Concert

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June

4 Half-term 25 Expeditions Day

26 Parents' Guild Fete

July

2 Trust Tennis Rally

6 New Parents' evening Skipton and Redlands Open Day

8 5 Lower party for Mentally Handicapped Children

9,10 5 Lower Field Trip to Epping Forest

13 Prize Giving 16 Term ends

KNERS NUTTING HILL AND EALING HIGH SCHOOL

Foreword

So that I can say goodbye to you all in the current edition, the magazine is, through the kindness of its editor, being produced rather later than normally. To begin, as I usually do, by looking back at the past year, I find that more than ever we have been assailed by external worries—in international affairs and our own country's problems: nothing making for mental calm, and it says something for the inexorable procession of the school terms that they nevertheless draw out the appropriate responses and keep a routine and order on our minds. As you read through the ensuing pages you will see the customary full school diary and a record of our many activities, some new ventures too. Among the latter was the residential study week for 3 Lowers to Charney Manor near Abingdon, a mediaeval foundation and a place of grace and quiet, something much to be prized nowadays. There was the Madrigal Choir's 'Tour of the Lakes' combining much singing with a week's holiday. Within school the opening of the Bookshop, the offer to parents to learn Greek or Russian with the pupils, have been only two of the newer opportunities. We were not immune from the post A-level worries that assailed the land in August; the majority of girls found a vacancy for further study, though not necessarily at their first choice of University, and several decided to improve on their A-levels by re-takes. It again underlines the need to have practical alternatives such as Polytechnic courses in these days of cuts and inflexible A-level requirements. We were delighted to hear of Josephine Arthur's first-class degree in Veterinary Science this June, from Girton College, Cambridge, and her 2-year Post-Graduate Studentship, and also of Sarah Walker's first-class in English from the University of Birmingham. This term Nicola Pope has been awarded the Hulme Scholarship in Jurisprudence at Brasenose College, Oxford, where she is already a commoner. Staff changes have again been few: we were very sorry to lose Mrs. Burnham and delighted to hear

recently of the birth of her baby daughter. Mrs. Beresford too was much missed and news of her baby is eagerly awaited. In looking back over the year and the preceding seven years, I am always aware how much I owe the staff as does every member of the school. Elsewhere in the magazine is a reference to my Prize Giving report and the values mentioned there are what the staff above all nurture. We are always delighted with academic successes, but unless they are matched with what I can only term growth of the inner life, then they are vain. A good community will foster the two and Notting Hill, with its impressive ranks of intelligent and thoughtful women, is a fertile field for the values to grow. I am proud to have played a small part in its history and proud of its past pupils, as I am of its present community.

In saying goodbye to you all and in wishing you well it is hard to express my thanks with any adequacy for what I have received over the past years. They have been rich years in so many aspects, in intellectual stimulus, in fellowship, and simply by being in contact with so many individuals of all ages, all with their own gifts of such different kinds. Then finally this term to be feted by such marvellous parties and presentations, in themselves only underlining the generosity and kindness which I have always met at Notting Hill. To Governors, colleagues, parents, school and Old Girls, thank you. I shall long remember this last term. I am handing over with a warm welcome to my successor, Mrs. Fitz. I know that she will be as happy here as I have been, and that you will, equally, enjoy and profit by her term of office.

M. J. Percy

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Appreciations of Miss Percy

The Governors would like to take this opportunity of expressing their gratitude to Miss Percy for running a school of which we can all be so immensely and justly proud.

Her loyalty, respect and appreciation of her staff, together with a very real and affectionate concern for every girl in the school, has shone through all her reports to the governing body and all our discussions together.

As governors, we will miss Miss Percy's deceptively casual grasp of complicated administration. Her good humour and friendly hospitality have made all our meetings both enjoyable and instructive occasions.

We wish her a long and happy retirement, with new ranges of interest as well as the resumption of postponed and cherished projects.

Helen Fowler Chairman of the Governors

ee66'ic It is now seven years since we started working with Miss Percy on the Bursaries Committee. Our aim was to maintain the School's independence and "essential character" in the threatening political climate of 1975. This was the first Appeal by a Trust School and the first really major co-operative effort between the School and the parents. It was a great success, and the working relationships established then have led to our Parents' Guild—and perhaps indirectly to Notting Hill being the only Trust School in London to have its own local Governors.

The initiative for these efforts came from Miss Percy herself, and it is with quiet patience and great sensitivity that she has guided these often delicate institutions through to their present-day strength.

We all know how true it is that a school reflects the personality of its Head. Notting Hill is no exception. The high standards achieved by the girls are largely free of the tensions so often associated with excellent results. They arise naturally from the calm supportive atmosphere created by Miss Percy's genuine concern, that each child in her care should develop according to her individual personality and natural talents.

In the past eight years Miss Percy has earned the respect of parents and girls alike. She has always been most approachable, and those of us who have sought her advice have never failed to receive a sympathetic ear and wise, constructive counsel. Many of the more senior pupils, in

particular, have been grateful for the time she has so generously given.

With her fine intellectual resources, and above all, her understanding of people, Miss Percy has always given leadership by quiet example. Knowing that parents will want to join us in thanking her most warmly for all she has given to the School, we send her our good wishes for a happy and fulfilling retirement.

Ingrid S. Sellman Richard Edgecliffe-Johnson

e11 Of the eight years that Miss Percy has been at Notting Hill I have been here for six, so it is not surprising that to me Miss Percy and Notting Hill are synonymous. So I am sure it will seem strange, at first, to be at school without Miss Percy's as the final word.

My first encounter with Miss Percy was at my entrance interview. I thought her a rather formidable figure when I entered the room, but as soon as we began to talk I realised how friendly she was and how eager to put me at my ease. I was soon to see more of my new headmistress as Miss Percy has always taught as many 3 Uppers as possible in order to get to know them in their first year in the main school. My form studied mainly poetry with her and in those lessons her love of the English language was revealed to us.

But as we progressed up the school we gradually realised Miss Percy's other gifts as a headmistress; she would always be most understanding over any difficulties that arose and would make sure she had heard both sides of the question before commenting. She was always compassionate and an excellent attentive listener—no problem was ever too insignificant to be heard by her.

Miss Percy has never thought of the school as consisting simply of forms but has always treated us as individuals, each part of the community of the school as a whole. Her actions in her last few days at school epitomised this—she visited every form to speak to them at no short length and said goodbye to every girl on the final day of term. It must have been physically exhausting for Miss Percy to attend all the functions in her honour during the last few weeks of her headship, but she arrived at each one fresh and ready to talk to all involved. She also displayed her versatility in the most enjoyable Staff play where she took a part—admittedly she was playing a version of herself, and performed it with great verve to the enjoyment of the school! By working closely with Miss Percy over this last term I have seen these rare and outstanding

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qualities in her, but 1 think she will be remembered most for her caring attitude and unassuming ways. Miss Percy's influence on Notting Hill will, I am sure, remain for many years to come; I know she helped to make N.H.E.H.S. an enjoyable experience for six years of my life.

Jessica Cohen Head Girl

e4ek Miss Percy has been President of the Old Girls' Association for the past eight years. Under her guidance we, as Old Girls, have seen Notting Hill pass from the Direct Grant status to a flourishing Independent school. Parents, the school and Old Girls have combined to provide Bursaries.

There have been no big anniversaries to celebrate during these years, but many old girls, young and old alike, have really enjoyed their many return visits to their school.

Miss Percy's warm personality and concern for all the Old Girls, especially the elderly, has made a deep impression on us all. The annual social, now held every September on a Friday evening at school, is attended by between a hundred and twenty and a hundred and fifty Old Girls.

As committee members, we shall miss the delightful way Miss Percy has presided over our meetings and encouraged us all. We are delighted that we shall now welcome her as an Honorary Life Member, and hope that we shall often see her at our meetings. We all wish her a very happy and exciting new life.

Lucy Cozens Hon. Sec. O.G.A.

During her time as Headmistress of Notting Hill Miss Percy has seen the school through several momentous phases of its development. Those of us who have served under her have come to appreciate the wisdom and skill with which she has calmly and reassuringly steered our course.

In her thinking and planning she has always been aware of the school's past and its traditions and has tried to perpetuate the essential qualities of Notting Hill. Aware, however, of the changing world outside and of educational developments, she has tried also to ensure that we should be equipped and ready to deal with the demands that such changes bring with them. Her leadership has

been based on consultation and a readiness to listen to every point of view.

Her wise and firm counsels have established a code of conduct that many of us, staff and girls alike, have remembered and respected. in her dealings with others she has sought to maintain standards both educational and ethical. She has shown herself deeply sensitive to the needs and feelings of others and anxious that they should preserve their self-respect. Many have been helped to deal with problems of every kind by her compassion and understanding. By discussing them with her we may well have found a tangle of complexities straightened out or simplified so that we have emerged relieved or enlightened, not perhaps realising that this was one of many demands made upon her in a crowded day. Yet her ever-receptive ear and patience made us feel that our personal pre-occupations were all-important.

The Staff saw from every angle the extent of her care for the pupils. We saw the ways by which she ensured that she could come to know all the new entrants. Younger girls were always surprised to find that she knew the names of everyone in the school. What perhaps only the older ones realised was that her awareness extended far beyond this; she knew them as people and watched their progress through the school.

Yet with so many depending and making claims on her, Miss Percy has remained outwardly calm; whatever the tumult of emotions around her, in the midst of the noise and turmoil of school life, she has remained imperturbable! But, although she has so often supported and reassured, she has sometimes adopted subtle methods of persuasion so that some of us have found ourselves agreeing to take on tasks so unexpectedly that our surprise has only been registered in retrospect—we have also been astonished by what we could accomplish! Her quick mind was continually in evidence and frequently left less nimble ones floundering: it might show itself in her ability to size up a situation or to read a document, with enviable rapidity, and to weigh the strengths and weaknesses of its arguments. Her sense of humour and wit, always lurking near the surface, would emerge, often in unexpected moments, and leave one to savour it fully long afterwards.

Much of what we owe her and have received from her will no doubt also Continue to steal up on our awareness after she has left. She inspired feelings of trust and respect, loyalty and affection. Now we wish for her a retirement with its own pleasures and satisfactions, a rich time of fulfilment and happiness.

H.C. and J.P.

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Miss Percy Interviewed

Alexandra Johnstone and Monica Lubbock undertook to interview Miss Percy. The following is a record of their taped conversation.

Mon.

Miss P.

Alex. Most of us feel a sense of bewilderment on entering a new school. What were your first impressions of Notting Hill?

Miss P. What I most noticed was how small it was. You see, I'd been used to a school which had an eight form entry—there were 1,100 girls, there was a huge eight storey building at one end and quite a big spread at the other—and I used to go round it once a day which took me really quite a long time as you can imagine. When I first came here I went round once a day but I was here and back before I'd noticed I'd started. So to begin with it felt very confined.

Mon. Were you previously a headmistress at that school?

Miss P. Yes, I was a headmistress there for fourteen years. It started as a grammar school with a three form entry and then, to turn comprehensive, we had to amalgamate with one of the Secondary Modern schools—hence its size. A lot of building had to go on and it was really quite a different situation to be in.

Mon. Did you find the administration of Notting Hill very different?

Miss P. Yes, very different mainly because all of the girls here are going to do well, aren't Miss P. they? Virtually everyone does well in the end and has something to look forward to and something to achieve whereas there, there were some of them who couldn't achieve anything. For instance, there were some who couldn't read—so you had to make arrangements and provide special teaching requirements for a variety of abilities.

Mon. What were your ambitions when you were young. Did you think you might be a headmistress?

Miss P. I'd always thought I'd like to teach; it always seemed to me an interesting thing to do, to be a teacher. Of course, in those days, there was far less variety in

Mon.

the jobs there were for women. It's only Miss P. comparatively recently that so many possible careers have opened up—so teaching was an obvious professional

Mon.

Miss P.

Alex.

Miss P.

Alex.

career to take up—that or nursing and perhaps the Civil Service. There wasn't really much else. But no, I never thought I'd be a headmistress.

What school did you go to?

I went to Chichester High School which was 61/2 miles away from where I lived. It was a very quiet school by modern standards. Chichester has always been fairly dreamy, I suppose, and it was quiet then, with the Cathedral and the Cathedral people and a College of Education and not much building outside the city. There was a river running at the bottom of the school fields and so I can remember just departing from the school premises and paddling and having rather a nice time. It feels to my mind as though it was always summer there.

In what ways is Notting Hill different?

Well, in size. When I was at school the sixth form was tiny. I think there were two of us doing the equivalent of 'A' level History, three of us doing English, and perhaps two doing French. It was unusual to stay on into the Sixth so there wouldn't have been a sixth form bigger than about twenty.

Was it an all-girls school?

Yes

Did you feel then—perhaps it didn't strike you at the time—that it was much more a preparation for life, and perhaps a more domesticated life at that, rather than a future career?

I don't think it struck me at all, because not many people went on to university, I hadn't thought about it until someone at school said, "Aren't you going to try?" and I thought, "Oh, might as well"—That's different too, that everything is thought out and we feel that if people are good then they ought to be going to to do something in higher education. We take it for granted that people will go on after 18 and that education isn't finished. I think that then for most people to stay on until 16 was unusual. If you went on after that, you'd meet people and they'd say, "What, still at school?" and "Still at college?"

What were your favourite subjects?

Games I enjoyed. I was a good hockey player, being tall and a fast runner. I used to play on the wing and enjoy that and beat up and down!

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Alex. What in your opinion have been the most notable changes during the time that you have been here?

Miss P. I suppose just general expansion. I don't know if it's so much as a change as a development; its all expanded since I first came here. Now there is a three-form entry. The science has expanded to some degree . . . there's a bigger staff, there are more children. What do you think if you look back? It's hard to assess, isn't it?

Alex. If you're within the school, you don't actually notice any change.

Miss P. And I think when you've got a very strong tradition you tend to get a development and not sudden changes. It somehow happens bit by bit.

Mon. In today's society of supposed Equal Rights, do you feel that for school leavers today there are more possibilities for a successful career?

Miss P. Yes, I'm sure there are.

Mon. Any particular reasons?

Miss P. Well, I think that the legislation for equality and the general pressure for opportunities for women mean that certain things like medicine have opened up where it used to be much more difficult for women to get in. Now they don't have, as far as I'm aware anyhow, a quota of women or anything like that. They take people on their merits. I suppose you might get some Oxford or Cambridge men's colleges, recently opened to women, where some of the dons aren't sympathetic to women but on the whole they try to take the best candidates and that goes through so many professions, I would think. You're bound to get inbuilt prejudice, aren't you? But that can be only in small pockets. There must be very much better openings now.

Alex. Moving on from that, we wondered what you felt about single sex schools. Do they have any future?

Miss P. 1 think they've got a value in many ways. From talking to my colleagues, I find it hard to avoid the impression that they tend to teach to the boys' level or satisfy the boys against the girls because—I've never taught in a mixed school so I'm only going by hearsay—it's so often the case that boys speak their minds more readily and tend not to be shy. Girls tend

to be a little shyer when they are in a class with boys and therefore they don't speak up so much; the boys make their feelings known and the staff tend to gear their lessons to the boys' interests. I should think there's some truth in that. It's supposedly true of science, isn't it? They say that more girls do science in girls' schools and do better than in mixed schools so, educationally, 1 think there's probably an advantage in having girls by themselves. On the social side, I should have thought it would be much better to be mixed—so they could get the boy-girl relationship more into perspective. I'm not sure. So you see, half of me says it would be a good idea to have everyone mixed, half of rue feels it isn't. It's a hard one, I think. My sister who did some teaching in a mixed school before she went into the nursing profession was very interesting on this. She said that quite definitely the people who taught English tended to choose a book which they thought the boys would enjoy because the boys would then get it read, whereas, if the staff chose something which they might like discussed and possibly the girls might like better, the boys would be too impatient to follow it. So the English reading list for instance tended to reflect the boys' interests. What do you think?

Alex. Well, it depends on how much you think the structure of schools should reflect the structure of society or whether you think education is just to learn your Latin verbs and so on. I don't know whether you think that it is a separate world from the world outside or whether perhaps that should be brought into education?

Miss P. It seems logical. It's how we are. It would seem sensible that the school should reflect it socially. If you could think of some way of getting over the educational disadvantages, I should think that would be the answer.

Mon. What part of school life do you think you will miss most?

Miss P. 1 know what I shall miss most. I shall miss all those girls rushing around me. It will seem so very quiet. No meeting people and seeing all those faces looking at me in assembly and going out to see a class of 25 or 26. I shall miss the pupils, I am sure. That isn't to say I won't miss my colleagues—I shall—but the general sort of feeling is of a lot of young people

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about. You can keep your contact with colleagues but you can't keep your contact with girls so that it will disappear.

Mon. How do you plan to spend your time after retirement?

Miss P. 1 shocked one set of parents when I said, "I shall stay in bed longer!" They looked appalled until I pointed out that I have to get up at 6.30. They realised then that I have to leave early in the morning because of the ridiculously long journey I have. Then, being literary by bent, I am going to do a planned course of reading. I did once, before I came here, register for an M.Phil. I thought when I got to Notting Hill I should have so much more time because there I spent all my time trying to stop bad behaviour and I knew they'd all be perfect here! Of course, when I got here I found I hadn't any more time; it was just used in a different way. So I shall go back to that study. I love music and I have that marvellous set of Hi-fi components which those kind parents have given me, so I shall listen to a lot more music, go to more concerts and to more theatres. I shall build up the threads again where I have neglected my friends shamefully and I hope to do some voluntary work when I get myself organised.

Miss Percy's Teaser

This poem was written as a competition for a party. There are 27 staff names hidden within it.

How the crew saved Soap from an Alligator (A moral lesson taken from Organic Chemistry)

A noble captain name of Soap A native was of Oxenhope (E. Nesbit put it on the map Lined up with films and such clap-trap). His chief aide was a Sussex man, Steyning his home. Now if you can Imagine them both with their crew Courting danger near Timbuctoo. Prospect unrosy! monsters wander; Sonorous roars the skies do sunder As they dash by, and poor Soap see, One takes the stranger by the knee, Then lurching over hill and chasm

It had an unexpected spasm But firmly still its victim held. The aide quite horror-struck then yelled 'Although your hands are getting numb Row nearer, faster, to your chum, However loth to search and peer Less and less you all must fear, And jump across the slimy rocks Search low and high! Alligators Are very harmful amputators! All your guns you may cock now, Or seize a stone or grasp a bough The beast to swat. Kinsmen all Rally to the desperate call! With cries of 'Ouch' 'Ur', strive to fix him You'll surely grapple tonight's victim. If death you sham, lynch the dread beast Approaching for a second feast Or coil the rope—a sturdy heap With which we transport errant sheep About its neck, and strangle it! 'Pour une bouteille de yin cent francs je donne' Cried one French sailor before long. His curious uniform of blue serge Antique it looked and on the verge Of some decay. (There could be nard* Outspoken people might e'en say Dropped down his shirt front every day) They grabbed the rope. With maniac hap* Many a seaman staggered back But flung it to lassoo the beast. 'Now do not jolt! Rit.** to North-East' Called one, and handling well the rope They rescued noble Captain Soap.

* Well known to English specialists ** Well known to Musicians

Joanne Rodriguez-4 Upper A

Solution Morgan, Fox, Aplin, Anstey, Court, Symon, Anderson, Ashby, Strange, Hill, Smith, Brown, Howe, Peerless, Ross, Hall, Maycock, Watkins, Hurst, Appleton, Hamlyn, Porter, Vincent, Sergeant, Benardout, Champman, Tritton.

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Staff News

As this first section is going to press later than usual we can record the additions to the Staff at the beginning of two academic years. September 1981 brought Mrs. Greenhill to teach Russian, Miss Morgan to join the Music department and Mrs. Garrard to the English. Miss Elliot, who has more recently become Mrs. Weiland (see the Music report!) took charge of the Music department, Miss Cockerill joined the Physics department for a year, and Miss Jolowicz left us, but only for a while, as she enjoyed a sabbatical break in Australia. Since Miss Percy wrote her foreword we have been delighted to hear of the birth of Mrs. Burnham's daughter, Emily, and Mrs. Beresford's son, Stuart. We congratulate, too, Mrs. Rhys, who is taking a year's leave of absence, on the birth of her son, Huw. In her place we have been very pleased to welcome Mrs. Fowler; Mrs. Holmes is now doing more teaching in Skipton and Main school; Mrs. Sinclair and Mrs. Strange have joined the Physics and Biology departments, and Mrs. Hoare has become Head of Geography. We welcome them all to the school.

Mrs. Archard

Mrs. Archard, who was our school cook for so many years, retired this year and it was with great regret that we said goodbye to her.

Food plays a vital role in the life of Notting Hill, as we can see from the dauntingly long and chaotic queues which heave outside the tuck shop and cafeteria every day. Perhaps we do not realize that the school cook has to be hard at work preparing the dishes from 7.30 in the morning to 5.00 in the evening. She is an expert cake-maker as the staff have come to appreciate when they sampled the delicious-tasting and attractively-iced cakes she provided at Christmas and Easter.

Mrs. Archard has seen the arrival and departure of three headmistresses at Notting Hill—namely Miss Merrifield, Miss Hendry and Miss Percy. However, Mrs. Archard claims that Notting Hill has hardly changed at all over the years. She also adds that she has found her colleagues in the kitchen, the pupils and staff of Notting Hill very agreeable, and has never had any cause for complaint.

We are very pleased that Mrs. Archard has enjoyed her time at Notting Hill, and wish her a very happy—and deservedly relaxing—retirement!

Catherine Dawson, 6 Upper

Obituary

Eileen Oswald (died 2nd October 1982)

Eileen came to Notting Hill, from Croydon High School, after the war, and we have known her over this period of about thirty years both as a very gifted artist and teacher, and also as a friend and hostess in her family home and in her new home with Miss Richards.

She was given the name of 'Serena' by one of the Croydon staff, and no name could have better suited her. She did pervade an atmosphere of serenity, though saying this does not imply a lack of strong feelings, but rather an ability to have such emotions well under control. At the same time, she had a quick sense of humour, with an outgoing kindness, all of which made her a most delightful member of the Staff Room and a very valued friend.

M.C. M. R.

Honours List 1982

Head Girl: Elizabeth Veecock Deputy Head Girls: Catherine Dawson, Kirsty Smith

TRUST SCHOLARSHIP AND AWARDS

1980/82 1st Trust Scholarship

Kathryn Tonge 2nd Trust Scholarship

Mirella Parsonage

1981/83 1st Trust Scholarship Philippa Weatherhead 2nd Trust Scholarship

Karen Esler Veronica Thexton

1982/84 1st Trust Scholarship

Danielle Coleman 2nd Trust Scholarship

Judith Edwards Joint 2nd Trust Scholars Charlotte Baker

Isabel Marsh Alison Porter

Berryman Scholarship

Sian Tyte Rama Ezra Scholarship

Sally Owen

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Magazine Committee

President: Miss Percy O.G.A. Representative: Mrs. Cozens

Treasurer: Mrs. Howcroft Advertising: Mrs. Howcroft

Editor: Miss Peerless

Selection Committee: Mrs. Aplin, Mrs. Garrard, Mrs. Myers,

Emma Cohen, Kirstine Fox, Alexandra Johnstone, Monica Lubbock, Sophie Mills, Kitty Seeker,

Jacqueline Steinhauer, Vicky Thexton, Beverley Thomas, Simona Williamson.

Cover designed by Janet Anderson, 5 Lower E

Parents' Guild

This year has seen the consolidation of many of the activities that the Parents' Guild has initiated over the past 3 years, and we can now see as almost routine the regular used-uniform sales, careers guidance for the older girls, the book sale and production of the Red Skipper for the Junior School, and tennis coaching during the holidays. The fact that these are now regular activities does not mean that they do not need any organisation, or that they run themselves. All need a great deal of work by those involved and our thanks are due to all those staff and parents who have helped them to run so smoothly during this last year.

So far 1 have only mentioned the activities directed at providing a "service" for the girls. There remain the many fund-raising events such as the Jumble Sales and Fairs, the enjoyable social and cultural occasions, and this year's new enterprise, the tennis club, which means that the school courts can be used out of school hours by the girls and their families. Most of these events have some element of fund-raising as well as offering an enjoyable time to those taking part. What happens to the funds? The girls should be able to tell you as they are the ones who benefit from the equipment bought. The last major items being another video and tapes for the Main School and a small computer and calculators for Junior School.

It is difficult to pick out events that "stole the show" for the year, as each of us must have enjoyed different things. But perhaps I can say that for me, the highlights of the Guild Year included the fun of the Quiz Supper, the civilizing aura of David Davis reading to us and the mental stimulation of Mrs. Siemaszko's Maths problems.

Ella Marks, Chairman

Social Services Report

This has been another successful year for Social Services, including the introduction of some interesting new schemes.

The contributions to the Harvest Festival were again gratefully received by local homes and individuals. Activities during the Autumn term also included two sponsored events: a walk in aid of the Save The Children Fund, the other a swim for the Mayor of Ealing's Christmas Fund. Six Lowers organised some Carol Singing.

Following the talk by a representative of Crisis at Christmas at this year's '0' Level presentation, the school made a positive effort to support this charity. Christmas decoratons from each form-room were given to provide a more seasonal atmosphere for the festivities organised for some of London's homeless. Men's clothing was also collected for them.

Various charities, including Crisis at Christmas, were supported by each form. Three of the lower forms in Main School did particularly well. The Parents' Guild have kindly taken over the collection of milk-bottle tops, while stamps continue to be collected within the school. A new collection of ring-pull tops was started by 3UB, and this is progressing very well.

Social Services representatives joined with Christian Union leaders in arranging a new scheme of visiting Old Peoples' and Childrens' Homes in the area. This reorganisation of Task Force was most successful and greatly appreciated by the residents of the homes visited.

As in previous years, 5 Lowers organised a party for the mentally handicapped children of Oaklands School. This was a pleasant end to their year.

Tanya Busby Melanie Follett 6 Upper

Emma Harman-6 Lower

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Madrigal Tour to The Lake District, July 1982

Hidden in this account are references to the 15 songs which the choir sang on their tour. Can you find them? Answers at the end of the O.G.A. section.

Summer was icumen in when twenty-nine singing birds flew to the Lake District. The party included a French girl and our very own angelus and virginem—Miss Elliott and Miss Morgan. Some of us were lucky enough to travel in Hazel (the mini-bus) who, apart from the curse of an aching flat spot on her starter motor armature(!) which prevented her from starting on several occasions, was our faithful steed for the week.

Our first two nights were spent in Windermere Youth Hostel (which was at Troutbeck) where we sang to the cows, one of whom enjoyed it so much that she broke through the fence to get closer. On Monday we moved to Ambleside Youth Hostel (which was at Waterhead). Being a converted hotel, this was a delightfully pleasant grove. Here we attempted to introduce residents to a new gastronomical delight: Julie's Angel Delight! Wednesday saw us descend on Hawkshead Youth Hostel (which, alleluia, was at Hawkshead!) the sandwiches of which could have done with a peck of Peter Piper's pickled pepper!

After eating cakes (there were twenty-nine of them) singing was our main occupation. Awoken by the nimble, nimble nimble lark at an early hour on Sunday, we sang at Holy Communion in Kendal Parish Church. While joyful sunshine lasted, we things of pleasure tasted; Kendal mint cake and frisbee by Lake Windermere. In the evening Mr. Wonderful arrived to hear us sing like nightingales at Windermere Parish Church.

We also sang at St. Mary's, Ambleside. Our concerts consisted of a variety of songs from Monteverdi to Elgar, from Orlando Gibbons to Schubert, and some instrumental solos. All the local vicars had problems with our school's name. This one spent the concert making an anagram of it:

"Hail then, Highland singing cool lot!"

The hills and lakes (and the passers-by!) also heard much of our singing. We walked over the fells to Grasmere Lake where we sang to a silver swan and visited Dove Cottage where Wordsworth once lived. In the delightful pleasant grove of Tarn Hows (where the bee sucks) we swam, and the keener zoologists among us discovered a leech! The many sunburn sufferers found bliss in Sally's soothing calamine lotion.

Our last concert was in the picturesque village of Cartmel, in the old and beautiful Priory. It was preceded by a delicious supper in Cartmel, which was supplemented back at the youth hostel, at midnight

Yes sir, it was a wonderful week of sunshine, singing and fun. Many thanks to Miss Morgan and Miss Elliott for all their enthusiasm, enterprise and hard work. We wish Miss Elliott all the best that life can bring in the dance of her wedding ring, hey!

Kirstine Fox, Philippa Weatherhead, Jessica Cohen, Vicky Thexton 6 Lower

Music Report

As usual the Music department has flourished during the year. in September we welcomed Miss Morgan who has proved invaluable to the year's activities, especially to the Senior Orchestra.

The year began with a concert in St. Peter's Church; for this the now familiar contingent of male voices joined forces yet again with the Senior Choir and provided an impressive rendering of Barber's 'Agnus Dei', Monteverdi's 'Beatus Vir', and Pergolesi's 'Magnificat'. The concert also included a few solo items.

The Carol Service was again held in St. Matthew's—thanks to the Rev. Peter Watkins—and evoked its usual atmosphere of Christmas. The keener members of the choir braved the winter blizzards to go carol singing; £70 was raised for the Marie Curie Cancer Fund.

The Madrigal Choir has greatly expanded in its numbers and repertoire, and for the first time entered the B.B.C. competition 'Let the People Sing'. Unfortunately we did not qualify for the

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next round, but we gained invaluable experience from it. Two weeks later we took part in a performance of Purcell's 'Dido and Aeneas' under the baton of Richard Cooke. Miss Elliott gave such a moving performance as Dido that a few members of the choir were unable to control their emotions!

In March the Instrumental concert took place in the hall; it was an informal evening exhibiting the extent of the musical talent to be found in the Senior school. The energies of the Junior school were by now fully concentrated on their musical production of 'Robinson Hood'. This was entirely a school production with both words and music being written by members of the school.

The highlight of the choral year was the concert in Holy Trinity Church, Hounslow. This year the augmented school choir successfully performed C. P. E. Bach's 'Magnificat' and Haydn's 'Maria Theresa' Mass. Rehearsals for this were enhanced by the fragrant perfume of the red roses which were appearing with ever-increasing regularity in the music room

Just before half-term the Junior concert took place and was greatly enjoyed by all; the spirit of participation was stronger than ever. On the same day, a recital of Delius, Elgar and Holst was given by Miss Elliott, Catherine Edwards and a violinist, by now familiar to us, Douglas Wieland.

As in previous years, musical items played a great part in Prizegiving and the end-of-term assemblies. The climax of the year came with the Madrigal Choir's musical tour of the Lake District.

Kirstine Fox Jessica Cohen 6 Lower

Extracts from a Journal of a Visit to Boulogne

All over London, at 5.00 a.m., 3 Uppers were waking up feeling very excited. All over London, at 5.00 a.m., their parents woke up feeling tired and exhausted. All over London, at 5.00 a.m., teachers woke up feeling gloomy and dismal at the prospect of taking the entire 3 Upper year on their outing.

Yes! It was the day of the 3 Uppers' trip to Boulogne!

As I stepped onto the soil of Boulogne, I could hear the fanfare and trumpets in my head and a voice saying, "A big step for Anna, a small step for mankind!" It was the farthest south I had

ever been. I'd been to California and Sweden but never to France.

After lunch we went to have a look at the old church. Then began the long-awaited shopping.

We all set off down the road heading for the supermarket called 'Prisunic'. On the way we were stopped by a man who said in a very French accent, "Come inzide and ze first perzon to buy zomething will rezeive a free gift". So half of us went in and the other half stayed behind to tell their teachers where we were . . . but . . . about half a minute afterwards, all the people who had gone into the shop came out explaining that all the things were cheap plastic and that it was most probably a 'con'!

When we arrived at the 'supermarchê', I headed straight for the notebooks as that was what I was after. After a lot of thought, I chose a thick, big notebook and a small one. The attraction about French notebooks is, I think, that they have lots of little squares on the paper, but so far I haven't dared to use them for fear of spoiling them!

We went to meet Philippa (our sixth former) who took us to another supermarket where we had longer to look over things and decide what we wanted to buy. I bought a bar of chocolate for daddy and a little clockwork dog for the baby next door. I had already bought a long string of sweets for my brother. They were in separate

Sofia Kurek-5 Lower H

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packets joined on to one another. You could buy mint, raspberry, strawberry, orange, coca cola and plain. These were very popular in our year.

We went to the jewellery department where I decided to buy myself a very pretty silver ring. Frances decided to buy a blue and silver bracelet but had difficulty in talking to the shop assistant. She said, "Je voudrais un bracelet", the shop assistant said, "Oui", and walked away. We finally got Philippa to help us Out.

We arrived back at N.H.E.H.S. at 9.00 p.m. It had been a long day! All 3 Uppers sag into bed thinking what a fantastic day it had been. All parents sag into bed, still tired and exhausted. All teachers sag into bed saying, "Phew—thank goodness that's all over!" All teachers realise that they have got to do this next year. All teachers collapse!

Anna Anderson 3 Upper E

"That Memorable Scene"

The scene had about it an otherworldy strangeness in spite of the familiarity of the setting. Inert limbs, arms, feet, legs, were silently, helplessly, being held out for attention before being efficiently encased in bandages. In one corner a patient was receiving treatment for compression of the skull. Bodies were being hurled into the recovery position with a certain air of urgency as time grew short. Female forms bent tenderly but firmly over them. Disembodied voices came across the room: "How do you bandage an ear?" Before mouth to mouth resuscitation, do you take out the teeth?" Were we in some time slip which had taken us back to the carnage of the Crimea? Was this the hospital at Scutari and that form, seen dimly through a smoky haze, sunlight glinting on gold-rimmed glasses, that of Florence Nightingale? But there was another element, out of place at Scutari—an apprehension that was voiced in such statements as "I haven't learned a half of it" . . . "I do feel nervous—I know I'm going to fail" . . . "I hope I don't have to go first" . For this, on a June day in 1982, was the scene in the Staff Room at N.H.E.H.S. just a few hours before fifteen members of Staff, after weeks of intensive study, were examined for their proficiency in First Aid. All passed, triumphantly.

J.P.

Gifts to the School

During the course of the year we once again benefited from the kindness and generosity of many friends of the school.

We received cheques from Mr. and Mrs. Sankey and Mr. and Mrs. Segall: Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, Mr. and Mrs. Atkins, and Kathryn Tonge all gave money for the Science department; Susan Atkinson, Mr. and Mrs. Cook and Alison for Music; Mrs. Kvicky for History and Dr. and Mrs. Sopher for Speech and Drama. Mr. and Mrs. Mills and Sophie along with Mrs. Burnham bore in mind the needs of the Staff, a thought which the Staff greatly appreciated. The Pupils' Aid fund was augmented by a very generous sum given by an anonymous donor. The ever present need for library books was specifically catered for by others; Mr. and Mrs. Briers, Mr. and Mrs. Hallett and Jenny (books for Music and Skipton); Mr. and Mrs. Porter and Jane (Geography); Mr. and Mrs. Cuthbert-Smith (Geography, History and Botany); Dr. and Mrs. Sopher and Rachel (English); Sara Roberts and Mrs. Hamlyn. Dr. Zivanovic presented us with a copy of his book on 'Ancient Diseases'. We are most grateful to all these people for their concern and interest.

Rachel Ellison-3 Upper E

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Games Report 1982

NETBALL

SWIMMING

Winter was hard and prolonged this year, with outdoor activities curtailed by snow for nearly a month around Christmas. As we have only one hall/gymnasium, hockey and netball lessons had to move to the classroom and became instead first aid, health education and water safety lessons.

In spite of the weather, hockey and netball teams managed to play a number of matches, with the 1st XI once again reaching the finals of the Middlesex Hockey Tournament. The 1st VII finished 3rd in the Middlesex Netball Tournament for the second year running and they won the Dartford Rally—a tournament for teams taught by ex-students of the college.

Both gymnastic clubs have continued to be very popular and next year badminton, fitness and dance clubs are to be started.

The tennis season was quite successful for all teams. In particular, the U14 VI were unbeaten in all their matches. Two members of this team, Jennifer Philip and Amabel Taylor, were selected to play for the 1st VI in the Trust Tennis Rally. The team did well, finishing 7th overall, winning three of their four matches, only losing to the eventual winners, Nottingham. Jennifer Philip was also selected to play for Middlesex this season.

Swimming has been revitalised this summer as we have been able to take over two hundred girls for lessons in Ealing's new swimming pool. Quite a few girls continue to swim for various clubs around the borough and Caroline Ashbrook had considerable success in Norway representing her club in an international meet.

CUPS

Junior netball

4 U H Senior netball

6U Junior hockey

4 U N Senior hockey

6L Junior badminton singles Natasha Dalal Junior badminton doubles Claire Nicholls and

Samantha Peach Senior badminton singles Julie Stafford Senior badminton doubles Julie Stafford and

Sian Tyte Table tennis singles

Nadia Levene Table tennis doubles

Sian Tyte and Kate Cohen

Junior tennis singles

Jennifer Philip Junior tennis doubles

Jennifer Philip and Amabel Taylor

Senior tennis singles

Dimpal Singh Senior tennis doubles Nicola Gillard and

Vibeke Rodrigues

1st VII *Alison Marks (Captain) *Emma Wellings Jessica Cohen

*Melanie Green *Anik Shawdon *Genevieve Dexter (V. Captain) *Aglaia Lyristis

U15 VII §Kate Cohen Sian Tyte Emma Tett

§Sonia Kurek Lorna Roberts

§Louise Nicholls Nicola Daniel

U13 Clare Kennell Susanna Evered Louise Day Helen Vickery Clarissa Hill Heidi Ali Cybele Sohrab

U12 A Anna Jackson Samantha Peach Sallyann Fisher Michelle Scantlebury Claire Nicholls Seema Rajput Fiona Pride

Senior *Jyoti Bhandari *Louise Dann *Nicola Keay *Suzj Pressey

2nd VII Vicky Liemann Julie Stafford Lorna Roberts Lisa Whybrow Sharon Ward Bettany Hughes Saba Rahman

U14 VII Polly Holmes Nicola Saulsbury Sara Olivier Marcelle Boulter Karen Dell Olivia Aarons Margaret Norden Sara Roberts Francesca Agati

U13 B Lyndsay Harding Deborah Fisher Susan de Sousa Kitty Marsh Sarah Rhys Suzanne Morse Joanne Lecky Sarika Kumar Helen Canton Iman Azmy

U12 B Anna Anderson Olivia Marks Frances Fuller Rebecca Halsey Naomi Castro Natasha

Samarawikrema Natasha Sikorska

Junior §Amanda Keay §Deborah Lansdowi §Marisa Seddon Caroline Ashbrool Louise Day Lyndsay Harding Sarah Rhys Heather Smith Joanne Lecky Sarah Honeybul

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Emma Harman-6 Lower

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1st XI Eira Jenkins Anna Wielogorski Alison Shindler Nicola Gillard Lisa Whybrow Isabel Marsh Jyoti Bhandari Oriele Frank Jessica Cohen Emma Cohen Jane Fisher Sarah Lawes

HOCKEY

U15 XI Julie Stafford Alison Faulkner

§Bettany Hughes §Sonia Kurek §Louise Nicholls Kate Cohen Sian Tyte Sara Bamber Lisa Bamber Lisa Williams Susie Davies Emma Tett Janet Anderson

GYMNASTICS

Senior Junior Emma Tett §Lyndsay Harding Louise Nicholls Helen Vickery Sarah Olivier Olivia Marks Amabel Taylor Amanda Bennett Anika Udell Claire Nicholls

Rachel Ellison

* Senior Colours § Junior Colours

Ul4 XI Amanda Winborn Karen Dell Nicola Saulsbury Sarah Olivier Joanna Azzopardi Olivia Aarons Marcelle Boulter Deborah Lansdown Serena Khoja Francesca Pietroni Katie Lawes Sally Owen

Blot

The Literary Society has had yet another active and noisy year, with fortnightly informal meetings in the 6 Lower Common Room. To discuss what? Anything and anyone, from 'Aspects of America' to 'Virgil', from 'Bloomsbury' to P. G. Wodehouse'. These Wednesday four o'clock talks given by various girls, staff and one visiting speaker concerned an interesting breadth and variety of subjects. Sophie Mills' talk on 'The Writer as Social Outsider' was such a success that the talk was repeated at the end of the Autumn Term, with guests from St. Benedict's invited to join the following discussion. The society welcomed one visiting speaker in November in the person of of Catherine Riley who has recently edited a book of First World War poetry written by women. There were readings of many of these poems by Mrs. Harvey and other BLOT members. Other topics (discussed in a most civilised fashion over coffee and biscuits) were Censorship, Sylvia Plath, Mauriac, Oscar Wilde, Children's Literature, Sexism in Language and Samuel Beckett—a most stimulating year! Thanks must go to the two tireless secretaries of the society—Rachel Sopher and Anna Wielogorska.

M. Garrard

TENNIS

1st Team *Melanie Green

Diinpal Singh Anik Shawdon Emma Wellings Sarah Lawes Donna Cirkel Jessica Cohen Jennifer Philip Arnabel Taylor

U15 Team

U14 Team Julie Stafford

§Jennifer Philip Sonia Kurek

§Ainabel Taylor Louise Nicholls

§Katie Lawes Nicola Daniel

§Zoe MacLeod Nina Littler

Joanna Azzopardi Lisa Williams

Michelle Amato Bettany Hughes

Nathalie Hobbs

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The Acting Competition

Much Ado about Nothing

As our numbers continue to grow and the demands on our non-expandable space increase, the Senior and Junior sections have once again had to be held in different terms. As usual, the Seniors provided the focal point of the end of the Spring term while the Juniors had their own time just before the Summer half-term holiday.

In the Senior section there were seven forms taking part, and to judge them we were fortunate to have Mrs. Mary Greenslade. After a very full day, which most of us had found demanding, she set to work to give a most detailed and valuable assessment of every play. Mrs. Greenslade's choice for the winning play was 6 Lower's version of the last act of Brecht's 'Caucasian Chalk Circle', while she judged the joint runners up to be 5 Lower H in 'The Importance of Being Earnest' and 6 Upper in 'One for the Grave' by Louis MacNeice.

To judge the Junior section, which now consists of six forms, we were pleased to welcome Mrs. Mary Shackell. She was warmly appreciative in her appraisal of all the plays and at the same time was helpful in the guidance she offered to those who were less experienced. The final choice of winning plays was, for the runners up, 'Over the Wall' by James Saunders, performed by 4 Upper N, and for the first place, 'Ernie's Incredible Illucination', written by Allen Ayckbourn and presented by 4 Upper E.

This year's school play was 'Much Ado about Nothing', a tour de force under the direction of Miss Peerless, surpassing all her previous productions and offering us a blend of skilful dramatic interpretation and visual delight. Shakespeare's 'Messina' was seen in 18th century guise and the period costumes reflected the poignancy of the love scenes and the wit of the exchanges between characters determined to marry or determined not to. Beatrice and Benedick, who said they wouldn't and then did, were played by Marcia Shekerdemian and Kitty Secker. They were clearly made for each other, and their expertly timed badinage only made the ultimate avowal of their love the more inevitable and moving when it happened. Vicky Thexton and Catherine Martyn-Johns as Hero and Claudio, who vowed they would marry but were parted on their wedding day by the treacherous machinations of Don John, provided the only tragic focus of the play, and their separation was as distressing as their reunion was lyrical.

Emma Wellings gave us a commanding Don Pedro, the prince under whose auspices the love affairs proceed, with Elizabeth Veecock suitably grim as his embittered and treacherous brother. Philippa Murphy played Hero's father with paternal tenderness and concern, and Kate Jay was a suitably doddery elder brother, touchingly prepared to rush to arms to defend his niece's

J.P.

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Photographs by Miss Jolowicz and members of the Photographic Society

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honour. Genny Dexter and Kirsty Smith as Borachio and Conrade made convincing drunkards caught up in mischief not of their own making. Their opposite members, Ursula and the slightly more culpable Margaret, were played by Nicola Levitt and Sonia Arora, with grace and an appeal which made them more than mere ladies-in-waiting. Nicola Keay posed beautifully as a statue of Cupid, adding to the romantic and ethereal effect of the darkened garden, moving disconcertingly to aid and abet Benedick.

The ample comic talents of Catherine Dawson as Dogberry and Jackie Stafford as Verges presided over the comedy scenes of the Watch; and Sophie Thorpe, Sharon Ward, Sara Bamber and Lisa Bamber were the members of the Watch, all too-ready to comply with Dogberry's arbitrary instructions and all too eager to accept his malapropisms. Dogberry's affable pomposity reached a climax of outrage as the two culprits compounded their original error by dubbing Dogberry "ass", and Verges squeaked with shock.

The superb direction and impeccable casting of this play deserved a rich visual framework. So the talents of Mrs. Aplin and Mrs. Anderson and their helpers could be seen to full effect in the backdrop with its classical architectural motifs and its rose-besprinkled bowers—providing a perfect foil for the light and colourful Regency costumes, many of them designed and made under the direction of Mrs. Garrard. The effect of costumes against scenery was a harmonious blend of colour and light, with the soft pastel shades of light-reflecting satin for the ladies contrasting with the splendour of military red for the men—the whole picture enhanced and illumined by Miss Jolowicz and her expert lighting team. Many people, staff, girls and parents, contributed in ways less obviously artistic to the success of this production; but above all our thanks are due to Miss Peerless for her tireless efforts—''for indeed she hath made great preparation" (Act I, scene 1). She made a memorable evening for us all.

M. Sergeant

6 Upper Play

"Once upon a time, after the 6 Uppers had been through the gruelling experience of 'A' levels, they bravely approached yet another venture—at times made to try their nerves . .

So begins the tale of the tenth annual 6 Upper play which this year was 'The Snow Queen'; it was seen by a number of local primary schools and finally by all Notting Hillers.

The Storyteller, played with great vitality and athleticism by Jason Watkins, (one of our yearly recruits) opened the play by cart-wheeling down the central aisle and proceeded to introduce us to the children, Gerda and Kay—played endearingly by Kirsty Smith and Richard Glen—around whom the story evolves. The family atmosphere, however, is soon to be broken by the entrance of the evil Chancellor (Steve Pratt) who immediately aroused audience participation; he was followed by the impressive figure of Amanda Day as the Snow Queen whose bewitching powers bring Kay to kiss her, thus robbing him of all warmth and transporting him to the dark world of the Snow Queen.

Gerda sets out to find her brother and on her way meets with a raven called Karl and his spouse Karla, in the shape of Tom Walker and Catherine Dawson who made a marvellous crowing comedy duo. Throughout her journey Gerda becomes involved in a number of incidents and makes two new friends, the Princess Christina (Alison Craven) and her newly acquired Prince (Emma Wellings) who accompany her. She is captured finally by a formidable gang of robbers. Marcia Shekerdemian stole this scene with her portrayal of the robber leader's precocious daughter—a fiend-like Shirley Temple.

Sarah Raine-5 Lower N

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The costumes added a visual excitement while the music, arranged by Kathryn Tonge, was skilfully used to evoke atmosphere. It was pleasing to see that two Old Girls, Joanne Airey and Rosalind Jay who had been previously involved in productions when themselves 6 Uppers, this year came back as Director and Stage Manager, backed by the enthusiasm and guidance of Mrs. Harvey. Gerda's determination to find Kay is finally rewarded and 1 felt that the smiles on the faces of the entire cast at the end of the play certainly demonstrated the main theme of happiness (or was it relief?). Once again the 6 Uppers had performed something of a miracle in creating such a successful production in the few days of rehearsal available, and had provided one and a half hours of pure escapism for us all!

Alexandra Johnstone 6 Lower

A Visit to the Royal Society

In May some of 6 Lower were fortunate enough to be invited to an exhibition at the Royal Society. After being welcomed by the President, Sir Andrew Huxley, we were allowed to wander around the various exhibits. A large portion of the exhibition was devoted to the 50th anniversary of the discovery of the neutron, and we were able to see some of the original apparatus used by Chadwick. We were also very interested to talk to a doctor from Hammersmith Hospital about their M.R.C. Cyclotron Unit which is using neutrons in the treatment of cancer.

In other exhibits we learned about the symbiosis between toadstools and forest trees and the process of making the cancer drug, interferon, from bacteria. It was helpful to talk to some of the research students about their own projects. One such was concerned with the transfer into an animal of foreign genes which would then be inherited by the offspring. It is hoped that this may be used for medical treatment in the future.

After seeing the exhibits we were shown a film about the wealth of scientific research projects in the Antarctic.

We all found the day very enjoyable and informative so we hope that other groups will be able to make similar visits in the future.

Philippa Weatherhead 6 Lower

Prize Giving 1982

The morning of July 13th saw no lessons for the upper part of the school but instead the rigorous rehearsal which is now as much a part of Prize Giving as the prizes themselves, and, owing to the great organising ability of Miss Chapman, allows the proceedings to run smoothly.

The evening opened with music by Delius, 'Légende in Eb' performed by Jenny Hallett on the violin. Alison Craven then sang a traditional folk song, 'Polly Oliver'. Later in the evening Kathryn Tonge performed the 1st movement of Beethoven's Piano sonata in C minor, 'The Pathétique'. The Ti Ensemble sang two madrigals, 'The Silver Swan' and 'Where the Bee Sucks'.

Mrs. Fowler, the Chairman, who also presented the prizes, is a familiar figure to most of us. In her opening address she spoke about the job of a school to equip its pupils for life. If indeed schooldays were the 'happiest days of your life' then the school had failed.

Miss Percy gave an account of the events of the school year; this in itself was an illustration of the life and vitality of the school. At the end she addressed herself to those who were leaving; 'I hope that you, 6 Uppers, will remember certain things from your schooling . . . I hope that you will continue to foster your intellectual independence; your ability to weigh up and consider evidence, without being swayed by surges of group emotion or indeed your own; that you will remain, nevertheless, deeply sensitive to other people's feelings, and that you yourselves, as individuals, will find and keep an inner peace which cannot fail to reach towards the outward 'peace and reconciliation' so much needed in the world.

For myself, I have seen many changes in education during my professional career and in society some alarming shifts of emphases: nor do I know what the future of schools like ours will eventually be. I know that the principles I have mentioned in the course of this report are enduring ones and must be nurtured in any good community."

The evening ended with refreshments which were laid out on the lawn; this provided ample opportunity for conversation with former members of Staff and friends of the school who were among our guests.

Kirstine Fox 6 Lower

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ENTRANCE TO UNIVERSITY, PROFESSIONS AND TRAINING 1981

Lindsey German Anna Gordon Elizabeth Haines Carolyn Harden Elaine Hargrave Lindsey Hill Tracey Hone Lucy Hyde Victoria Kebbell Krystyna Kurek Alexandra Lascarides Muriel Loydell Susan Marshall Julie Organ

Corinna Alberg Susan Anderson Susan Atkinson Fiona Barter Katy Briers Caroline Carter Georgina Cave Cathy Chandler Anne Choulerton Angela Cooper Jessica Gale Stephanie Gallatt

Terry Pikoulis Nicola Pope Katharine Potter Jane Richards Sarah Roberts Katherine Sankey Nicola Sargent Karen Segall Suzanne Simmons Dawn Slack Catherine Slavin Alison Smith Amanda Smith Jane Stanton Clare Stephenson Marian Storkey Adele Tropp Christina Young Anna Zakharova

Southampton University, Psychology 1982 Exeter University, French and German Moor fields Eye Hospital, Orthoptics Southampton University, Medicine West London Institute, History and Drama Charing Cross Hospital, Nursing University of East Anglia, History of Art Kingston Art College, Foundation Course in Art Oxford, Lincoln College, History London School of Economics, Social Sciences Cambridge, Girton, Anglo-Saxon/Celtic/Norse National College of Food Technology, Food

Technology Homerton College, B. Ed. Education and Music Oxford Polytechnic, B. Ed. Aberdeen University, Psychology Swansea University, Engineering Exeter University, Politics, 1982 Polytechnic of Central London, French and Italian Exeter University, Geography, 1982 Royal Free Hospital, Nursing Kingston Polytechnic, Foundation Course in Art Guy's Hospital, Medicine Durham University, Mathematics Birmingham University, Classics, 1982 Leeds University, French and German Langham Secretarial College, Bi-lingual Secretarial

Course S.O.A.S. Oriental Law Oxford, Brasenose College, History Sussex University, French Studies West London Institute, English and History Cambridge, Gonville and Caius, Medicine Oxford, University College, French and Russian Bristol University, English and Philosophy, 1982 London University, University College, Law Leicester Polytechnic, History of Art and Design Manchester University, Nursing Degree course St. Mary's Hospital, Medicine Ealing Hospital Warwick University, French Studies Exeter University, Geography Cambridge, Trinity College, Natural Sciences, 1982 Exeter University, Geography Westminster College, Hotel Management Keele University, Law Aberdeen University, Zoology

Alison Cook Sophia Mills Clare Stephenson Kathryn Tonge

OPEN AWARDS Trinity College, Cambridge—Exhibition: Choral Somerville College, Oxford—Scholarship: Classics Trinity College, Cambridge—Exhibition: Choral Somerville College, Oxford—Exhibition: Medicine

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Photographers at Large

The Photographic Group is probably one of the least well-known clubs of Notting Hill. The reason for this is certainly not in the programme—which has been rich and varied, catering for all sorts—but perhaps in the fact that photographers are shy and retiring people, preferring to hide behind their latest jumbo equipment! You do not have to be an aspiring David Bailey to join our club—after all, even he must have started off with a Kodak Instamatic—but rather someone who enjoys taking snapshots and the occasional good picture and wishes to discover how to improve her photography. Our most successful event was the talk kindly given by Miss Lielausis; the photographs she showed made some of ours look like ones taken by 5 year-olds, but they showed her real talent for photography. During the year we have studied various cameras with all their intricacies, seen slides, discussed each others' efforts and held witch sessions (from 'Macbeth'). We have also printed and developed some of our own films, and, thanks to the Parents' Guild, we have experimented with a new camera. Despite the lack of enthusiasm in the summer term, we hope to start anew in the Autumn, refreshed by the thought of winning a prize in the Photographic Club competition, open to all ages.

Jessica Cohen 6 Lower

The Skiing Holiday

3.30 a.m. This was even worse than the 5.30 a.m. of the previous year. What was Miss McBurney trying to do—kill us before we even got there? After the long tiring journey we finally arrived at Sauze d'Oul, our destination. Ready to collapse on our beds, we were told that we were to have a ten minute hike down to collect our skis and boots. If we had known what suffering we were to endure from them in the near future we would have discarded them immediately. The next day we were to find out what pain and suffering really were. The older ones of us, however, were rewarded by a trip to the disco on Sunday night (not that we could manage those fancy steps to stun the on-looking Italians!). After a late return from the disco, getting up was a big problem. Everyone managed to crawl to their breakfast places at the appropriate time, 8.00 a.m. We were glad of the warm crusty rolls and the best foreign tea we had ever tasted. We enjoyed the skiing immensely despite the first

A hair-raising session of the Photographic Society

few foggy days on the lower slopes, where we had to carry our skis back to our hotel, Quattro Stagione. The fifteen-minute ride on the chair lift up to the higher slopes let us observe (and photograph) the breathtaking view looking down upon the picturesque village. The three instructors, Franco, Pierrino and Georgino, were all very experienced and proved most helpful and caring for everyone. The last night was very sad but also rewarding as we received our medals ranging from 2 star silver to 1 star gold. These were presented by the ski instructors. In return we presented them with cards. The journey back (which started early in the morning) was a quiet one. Fortunately there were no delays so we returned a little earlier than had been anticipated. Home again—what an anti-climax!

Room 211 (Taragh Blissett, Serena Khoja, Abigail Cruttenden, Marcelle Boulter, Sara Hambelton, Sara Olivier)

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The Witches' Coven or: Will the practical go on to the crack of doom?

Double, double, toil and trouble; Bunsen burn and test tube bubble.

Round about the beaker go, See the deadly bubbles grow! Oxide of carbon deeply frozen, Green detergent specially chosen. Volumetric flasks awaiting, Funnels poised to do filtrating. Anxious watching in the gloom As clouds of vapour fill the room.

Double, double, toil and trouble, Bunsen burn and test tube bubble.

In the flask with gleeful cry Throw Science staff—and watch them fry! Law of Newton, toe of Ohm, Cytoplasmic cytochrome, Cooling curve of naphthalene, Small three upper—very keen—Avagardro, Watt as well, These will conjure up the spell.

Double, double, toil and trouble, Bunsen burn and test tube bubble.

Practicals are never done—Start at two and end at one! We're in the labs till after dark, Looking for a lonely quark. Tired of counting oscillations, Looking for coagulations, While headless locusts fly around Faster than the speed of sound.

Double, double, toil and trouble, Bunsen burn and test tube bubble.

How the fire leaps and spits, Illumining Miss Jolowicz. In the pot goes Mrs. Brown— Biologist of great renown, Mrs. Maycock—most meiotic, Mrs. Cleaseby—allotropic, Dr. Court with dihydroxy, pentanoic buta

phenyl ethyl methyl OCTANAL, (well, it rhymes!)

Tamara! Where's your overall!

Bubble, bubble, the charm is done—Blasting science block to the sun!

Hecate and her 6 Lower witches

22

Hecate and her witches

The Goggle-Box

There was a girl whose name was Claire Who at the Telly used to stare. Her mother often told the girl Her eyes would start to whirl and curl But this advice she would not take It really was for her own sake. She watched the Goggle-Box 'til late, And then fell Victim to this Fate—

Whilst watching TV late one night, She first felt funny, then Took Fright At her reflection on the wall— You should've heard her scream and Bawl! Claire's eyes had gone quite cubed and square, Her mother did not turn a hair! (Claire's eyes, in fact, were four by four, At this she shouted even more!)

Her mother who exclaimed that day, 'Another bill I have to pay For glasses! Come on. Let us go To the Opticians. Don't be slow!' The man, however, was quite kind Informing Claire she would be blind. But lucky Claire shared not this fate. It wasn't after all, too late!

Her eyes went back to two by two, At this she said, 'I really rue The days .1 watched so much TV, I know that I will never be The same again. I now declare The television I can spare, I'll put it on the rubbish tip. In my spare time, I'll play and skip!'

For those who've listened to my tale, Don't grump and groan, don't whine and wail! In case a fate far worse will come. Might strike you blind, might strike you dumb! So please, Oh please, heed my advice, And don't be subject to this vice!

Olivia Marks 3 Upper E

Staff Ditty

This little verse Was nearly worse—But lack of thought Hath made it short.

J.H.

23

The Minotaur

All alone am I in this dark, lonely, cold labyrinth. None will share my bitterness As no love is felt for me. I mean no harm, But when I see a maiden fair or young man

strong, lost in the maze of stone, It reminds me of myself being imprisoned in this

maze of stone. A great rage boils inside me. Then screams of terror and shouts of pain. Then I am left alone, all alone again.

Katherine Veness 3 Upper N

Margaret Minasian-4 Lower N

Ariadne Awakes

1 woke to hear the sound of the waves, The endless sound of the waves. But instead of the shout of men about, All I could hear was the cry of the gulls And I heard the sound of the waves, The endless sound of the waves.

I woke to hear the sound of the waves, The endless sound of the waves. But instead of the sight of a straining ship, All I could see were the empty sands, And I saw the swell of the waves, The endless sight of the waves.

I woke to hear the sound of the waves, The endless sound of the waves. But instead of the incense and perfume sweet, All I could smell were the withering blooms And I smelt the fish of the open sea, The endless smell of the sea.

I woke to hear the sound of the waves, The endless sound of the waves. But instead of the taste of the coarse red wine, All I could taste was the salt on my tongue And I tasted the salt of the waves, The endless taste of the waves.

I woke to hear the sound of the waves, The endless sound of the waves. But instead of the comforting touch of his hand, All I could feel was the hard, hard rock And I felt the spray of the waves, The endless spray of the waves.

I thought of the ship, on its journey to Athens, And my love, many miles away, As I stood there I saw a black sail far off, And I called to the ship to come back to me. But the gulls and the wind mocked my misery And I heard the sound of the waves, The endless sound of the waves.

Kathleen Lewis 3 Upper N

A lately discovered Greek tragedy:

An English Invasion of Athens

Prologue

Chorus: OtototoiP We have returned to our native land from the Hellenic2 shores of Nea Makri.3 On arriving at Luton airport we parted with members of Bradford Grammar, who had done much to enliven the holiday.

But we have left behind the marvel of the Parthenon, the mysteries of Delphi (what really was in those sandwiches?), the pseudo-isodomic walls of Mycenae (or were they Cyclopean?) and the paklava4 (great otototoi).

Scene 1: The Acropolis

Chorus: We joined the Panathenaia5 wending its way through the ruinous Propylea, heading for the Temple of the great goddess Athena. There we worshipped the architectural perfection of one of the world's most beautiful buildings: the Parthenon. How huge it was, commanding a view of the whole of Athens. We saw the beautiful caryatids, encased in scaffolding, weeping for their lost sister in the British Museum.

Mrs. Anstey: Whatever you do, don't mention Lord Elgin!8 I mentioned him once, but I think I got away with it!

24

Scene 2: The Hotel Nireus, Rm. 331

Tamara: That's the second time in the past sixty seconds that the toilet has flushed involuntarily!

Nicola: Have another blanket and go to sleep.

Scene 3: The Agora6

Lilian (our Here in the Agora we haff a fine example 4 2" guide): of Beezantine architecture. And there, the

Theseum, is one of the best preserved Greek Temples. You mus' understand that

Tamara: Will you all just stand over there and wave while I take a cine film?

Chorus: Groan.

Messenger: Otototoi! Where is the guide? We have lost our guide! She has disappeared into the Greek remains! For that matter, oh where is the coach? Otototoi!

Chorus: Confusion ensued for half an hour until an irate coach driver appeared. Otototoi! We had been waiting in the wrong place.

Scene 4: Cape Sounion

Chorus: Ah, we remember Cape Sounion, a headland sloping down to the Aegean Sea, where a temple to Poseidon stood. The beauty of its shining white marble was marred only by Byron and his penknife.

The carpet of wild flowers provided an artistic background for many photogenic poses.

Scene 5: The Hotel dining room

Chorus: A quick dash was made after most meals, not only to the sink, but to the nearest cafe where doughnuts, cheese pies and pizzas were bought by the dozen.

Scene 6: Delphi

Chorus: We remember the ancient temple to Apollo which has stood above the steep wooded valley since the oracle first uttered a prophecy. We also recall the museum (where "it is forbidden to whistle, sing or make loud noises") where we swooned over the statue of the Charioteer. But foremost in our memories lies the epic race around the stadium, hampered only by the loss of an an anonymous athlete's shoe.

Bradfordian: Where's the filling in my butty?

Chorus: It must be buried in the half inch of goat's milk butter.

Scene 7: The Hotel dining room

Jessica: Urn, excuse me waiter, I seem to have a fly in my soup. (And this really happened!)

Vicky Thexton-6 Lower

25

Adrienne Rooke-Mat (hews—S Lower N

Waiter: Oh, so sorry, I'll get you another bowl.

Jessica: (panicking) No, no, please. Really, I've had enough.

Chorus: It's all right for you, we got the whole bowl to finish!

Waiter:

people were 'trying out the acoustics' that we unfortunately could not hear a pin drop.

Scene 10: The Hotel dining room

Here's your salad. Scene 8: The coach journey

Chorus: We remember one of the myriad souvenir shops, where 'ouz07 power' badges were on sale . . . but there obviously were not enough.

Scene 9: Corinth, Mycenae, Epidauros

Chorus: Otototoi! The coach left at 7.30 for the dramatically deep Corinth Canal. We proceeded to Ancient Corinth where the main attraction proved to be the ancient 'latrini' on which members of staff obligingly posed for photographs.

Oh, how we remember Mycenae! A great rocky citadel dominating the plain. We saw the massive Lion Gate and the ancient tombs. We stood on the spot where Agamemnon was slain by his faithless wife. We explored the murky depths of the beehive tomb (which, incidentally, was full of wasps).

We remember the huge theatre cut out of the hillside at Epidauros, where so many

Bradfordian: I don't think so!

Scene 11: The Nea Makri Football 'stadium'

Chorus: Otototoi! All attempts to teach the waiters had failed dismally, so we were forced into playing football. Unfortunately many of the key members of the Bradfordian team got waylaid by a pedal boat incident, caused by one of the Bradfordians, probably under the influence of ouzo. So remaining Bradfordians, Notting Hillites and the heroic Mr. Evans rallied round. Otototoi! The final score was 11:2 to the waiters, who turned out to be a professional team.

Epilogue

Chorus: The complete tale of our historic journey is too long to relate. Our eyes have seen many wonders, both ancient and modern. We thank Mrs. Anstey and Mr. Evans for taking us. Otototoi that they had to bring us back!

26

Vocabulary used in studying this play:— Otototoi alas, alack (eheu) Hellenic fancy word for Greek Nea Makri small town near Marathon where we

stayed. Pakiava delicious Greek delicacy, oozing with

honey! Panathenaia great procession made by the WHOLE

OF ATHENS every year to the Acropolis.

Agora centre of commerce of Ancient Athens below the Acropolis.

Ouzo extremely potent Greek alcoholic beverage made from aniseed.

Lord Elgin took much treasure from the Acropolis back to England.

Kirstine Fox, Adrienne Rooke-Matthews, Vicky Thexton, Tamara Zivanovic 6 Lower

Bettany Hughes-5 Lower N

27

The Show

It grew dark and the air grew misty. Gradually each exhibit closed, the people made for home. No one noticed the girl. She was standing in the shadows dressed in black, the darkness folding around her. As the show closed, the great tent was shut and all the stalls surrounding the tent were covered and still. Finally the girl moved, but not until the lights burned in the caravans and all signs of life had gone. She began to search among the covering of the stalls for somewhere in the warm darkness; she found nowhere. Once she knocked against a mound of boxes, and one fell with a crash, sending her scuttling into the mist, and she did not dare to move until the darkness had forgotten. She came upon some straw but when she touched it her hand felt another smaller hand beneath hers. A baby moved in the covering. No, there was nowhere for her to go.

She approached a caravan, tapped on the window, and retreated into the darkness. She saw inside a fat man put down a toasting fork and open the door. The heat crept into the night, and mingled with the mist.

"Who?" he asked, "Who?" he demanded. The girl laughed, for his voice was as thin as he was fat! "First you tap, then you disappear, then you laugh. What do you want?"

"Can I come in?" Her voice wavered as his ear-drum vibrated. She stepped into the light.

"A girl," he mumbled and stood aside to let her pass.

Motioning her to the bed he sat down opposite her and stared. When he had looked her over he went back to his toasting. He held the bread for a while and it burnt. "I can toast better than you," murmured the girl.

"I'm sure you can," he said and handed her the toasting fork.

As they munched the buttered toast he told her of how he had always been fat, and now he was the Fat Man. Next door, he told her, was the Sorceror, and next to him the Roundabout Man. He described to her all their roles in the show, the tricks they performed and the old wooden horses on the roundabout, giving rides to the children.

She told him of the baby in the straw. "Ah, the Sorceror's baby," he said, and getting up suddenly, he went out of the caravan and into the night. While he was gone, she became afraid of the misty fingers and enveloping darkness! There were no stars and the moon had descended and lying on the ground had spread her frosty robe over the earth. Soon he was back, carrying the baby in the palms of his huge hands. She took it from him and held it to her; he noticed her thinness, how shoulders curved in bone.

"You must eat," he told her, but she said nothing, only feeling the warmth of the baby and remembering another time and place.

But the baby grew restless. From a little wail its voice rose into a tempest of despair. The girl rocked it to and fro, but nothing soothed it.

"Stop it! Stop it! yelled the Fat Man. She sang a lullaby, but it did not like her singing and only yelled louder. "There's only one thing." said the girl, "We must take it to the roundabouts." And with the child's arm around her neck she stumbled down the steps and ran towards the deserted fair, the Fat Man panting after her.

She found her way through the tents and stalls into the centre of the ground where the wooden horses stood waiting, and clambered up on a saddle. "Start the engine," she called out. In the distance the Fat Man could be heard cranking up the antique machine that drove the horses all day into a wooden gallop. She heard the spasmodic humming of the engines; the boards rattled under the horses' feet. She saw the Fat Man get up by her side, having pulled the central lever. As the roundabout started, slowly at first and slowly gaining speed, the, child stopped crying and clapped its hands. The night wind tore through its hair, the music jangled in its ears. Round and round the wooden horses sped, drowning the cries of the wind and the beating of their hooves.

If the men from the caravans found them, the Fat Man and the girl in black with a baby in her arms, they would have found them in another kind of show, a night show, racing round and round on their mechanical steeds to the ever-increasing music of the organ.

Natasha Martyn-Johns

28

Gillian Dibben-5 Lower E

Spider Web

In morning light it glistens.

Like threads of pure silver Encrusted with pearls, which, When warmth from the

young sun spreads its fingers,

drop, and becomes miniature lagoons of life.

A cartwheel of fine lace, As intricate as the inside workings

of its maker

Who works with the speed of eight human hands

It spirals into infinity.

But such evil does this beauty hide A paper doily death trap

For those so tiny to be able to admire the detailed labyrinth

closely. Black polka dots with wings Who meet a sticky end wearing a hand-made coat

of finest gossamer.

Yet to us it still seems a thing of delicate

fascination Too blind to see the oh, so Skilfully camouflaged

evil. As we are too blind

to perceive it in so many

things.

Nicola Saulsbury 4 Upper N

The Convent

Set apart from the rest of the world, The convent stands, alone. Red, modern brick—its windows black, great

glass arches, Set into the stone, revealing nothing, feeling

nothing. And where the great, flat expanse of cement and

brick, Grows up to reach a peak A great cross stands, sure of its position in the sky. So great, so straight and yet unfeeling is this place, But inside containing such great faith, full hearts,

and contentment. They have there what all men seek for,

but never reach. Strains of joyful hymns are swept by the winds To the ears of those who pass by. And though surrounded by the products of the

modern world, The drone of planes and screeching of cars,

The convent stays on, Caught in time, neither old nor new, At night when the sky is a dark hazy blue, It forms a quiet silhouette, austere and unshaken, Space seeming to revolve round this little world.

Rebecca Simmons 4 Upper N

29

Susanna Evered-4 Lower N

The Jay

The Jay moves deftly into the bushes, Weaving in and out of golden leaves, Then darting conspicuously over the green grass; A shy, timid bird Starting at every sound. A ruddy complexion, With a dappled head, Which bobs in and out of the trees. Its deafening cry, pierces the crisp morning air, The sharp beak, busily searching the ground for

food. Alert, Flinching at the sound of twig cracking in the bush. Suddenly, the striking black tips of the wings Lift his body up into the endless sky. Fleeing from the sign of danger. Leaving, to move on. At last, the Jay was only a speck in the sky; A flash across the mind.

Danielle Power 3 Upper N

Desert

Thick oily drops of heat cling to my forehead As sun sits, spitting ochre condemnation. The parched soil weeps with tears long since

relinquished, A cry unheard among the desolation.

Gaping cracks now mar its barren beauty, Where yellow-bellied lizards roast in peace. The all consuming heat-haze of the desert, Nature's eternal oven for the feast.

Moistureless ripples leave their tidal mark Where camel and nomad paddle through the sand. Yet this hell, which God Himself abandoned, Can still be made a home for roving man.

Louisa-Jayne O'Neill 5 Upper B

The Bubble

Released into freedom It sails. Rising higher and higher. A transparent globule of water, Glinting, the colours of the rainbow As it catches the rays of the sun. The wet film wobbles and moves Around the centre of air, as it floats Upwards higher and higher. Airy, fairy ball, Sparkling, shining, gleaming. Rising and rising Until 'pop!' The floating miracle bursts in mid-flight, Scattering tiny rainbow particles Over the garden.

Michelle Scantlebury 3 Upper H

The Tuck Shop

There's a tense nervousness as people glance at their watches. Ten seconds to zero hour. The teacher drones on and on—when suddenly . . . The bell!

Everybody is half out of their seats, clutching their purses in anxiety. "The homework," says the teacher. Everybody sinks back into their chairs.

They scrawl the homework over their best books. "Bother! Oh, we'll deal with that later—food comes first." They dash out, leaving the teacher to say, "You may go," to an empty class. They trip down the stairs in a frenzied state . when suddenly a strong, muscular arm bars their way.

"No need to hurry. There's plenty of time," but the teacher is flattened. With hearts pounding, they dash towards the canteen, running the four minute mile in three minutes.

The first danger averted, they near the front of the queue, but then comes the second danger—sixth formers!

They march towards us like huge giants. We are at their mercy. The fling us aside with ease—but here comes our heroine, Miss Peerless. Now they are at her mercy. We go and sit down and eat our lunch. For another day the Tuck Shop danger has been averted.

Anna Anderson and Frances Fuller 3 Upper E

30

rLpNI\ A8fkAHr'Th

The Garden

The garden was like paradise itself, a seemingly endless place of hedges and hyacinths, herbs and hollyhocks, full of the ripe fruits of happiness.

The child was happy. As soon as he could he would escape from the day's list of chores and duties, into the garden and his own private world. Now he crept among the imaginary cacti of the herbaceous border, tracking Indians or maybe stalking a grizzly bear.

Crouching down among the sap green stems of the towering tiger lilies he sucked a finger, deep in thought as the great golden spotted tigers' heads nodded down at him from the ice blue sky. Cool green bars of shadow played on his bare skin, and still he thought, his young form like a fawn hidden in the undergrowth.

After a while he seemed to have come to a decision and slipped off down the garden past the heavily scented rhododendron bushes and flaming yellow jasmine to the wilder end of his territory where the plants grew strange and jungle-like,

resisting his grandmother's secateurs and the droning lawnmower. Here roses and brambles grew side by side and the creeping ivy spread its tendrils over all. And here rabbits were not persecuted for nibbling the raspberry canes nor had the mice and moles anything to fear. It was a sanctuary for the wild and the wild was there without doubt; birds of countless types, butterflies and moths, rabbits, mice, hedgehogs, moles, all the beautiful creatures known seemed to live there with a few less handsome ones as well. More than once the boy had seen the curving form of a grass snake vanish into the gloom, or a toad splash into the depths of the weed-strangled pond.

But the boy had not come to watch the wary creatures, he had come as he came each day to see if the apples were ripe.

The ageing tree stood in a grassy clearing at the bottom of the garden. Now the gnarled, twisted, timeworn skeleton was clothed in a mantle of green scattered with yellowy gems; the apples were ripe.

The boy stood at the tree's roots, staring up into the stirring foliage at the shining apples; not even the lowest of them was within his reach. He stood thinking for a while and then with the nimbleness of a squirrel he shinned up the trunk of the tree and was soon perched on one of the spreading branches. Care overcoming eagerness he slowly edged his way along the lichen-laced branch towards his goal, a yellow green fruit suspended just out of arms reach. He slid himself gently nearer and nearer to it until his finger tips could just feel the smooth, waxy skin of the apple and it was only then that he noticed the snake curled around the very branch he was balanced on. The boy panicked in fear of the startled serpent and pushed himself away from the winding black coils only to find himself falling away from the golden apple and towards the waiting ground. He hit the earth long before he stopped falling, for the violent jolt only seemed to hurl him down faster into the blackness at the back of his mind where he lay there, unmoving, and unconscious. When he woke he was quite surprised to find himself cushioned in a bed of scented thyme and springy grass. Above him the tree towered like a twisted demon reaching down to him. It and its serpent guardian had scared him so much that he ran blindly from it, not caring about the apples any more. He stopped in the cover of some amber mottled flowers which vaguely resembled great gentle cat faces and there he sat, deep in thought, sucking a finger. All the flowers in the garden now seemed much brighter and their scent more pleasing. He

found that here he could reach any fruit he wanted and that the wild creatures were less wary of him than in the lower end of the garden. It was then he found himself remembering that someone he loved, someone familiar, had once told him not to go into the wild end of the garden, or to pick the apples, so he decided he would not go there again but would stay here in safety, where his friends and his games were no longer imaginary: the garden was paradise.

Janet Anderson 5 Lower E

The Swing

Years ago when I was little I received a big, blue wooden swing that could be tied to a branch of a tree with ropes. My father put it up on the apple tree in the garden of my house. I loved that swing and to sit on the seat and swing backwards and forwards, to feel the wind in my face and my feet away from the ground was my idea of heaven.

The apple tree's smaller branches came just in reach of my feet when I swung the highest and I could just about kick a certain leaf. I would dream that the garden was an olympic stadium and I was the world record holder. The crowd would roar as I came out from behind a bush and strode up to the swing. I saw banners wishing me luck as I dusted my hands with earth and sat down on the seat gripping the ropes. I pushed off and began to propel myself backwards and forwards, faster and higher until my foot could reach out and touch the leaf. Then I would slow down slightly and as the swing went forward I

32

Dina Lyristis-4 Lower H

would jump off and land on the grass a little way away from the swing. The crowd cheered as I measured the distance of my jump, yes, it was another world record! The banners waved and the crowds shouted, their voices bounced off the walls of the garden and echoed through the branches of the trees. Another dream I would dream was that the garden was a town and the apple tree was the 'Big Top' of a circus. The swing was metres up in the air and I was the famous trapeze artist. In my glittery costume I would appear Out of the curtain and climb up the ropes and ladders until I could lower myself onto the swing. The audience clapped and the lights flickered and glittered on my costume, just as the sun lit and highlighted the leaves of the apple tree after it had rained. I stood up on the swing and then turned it round and round, until the rope could go no further. Then, with my legs and arms in a beautiful pose I would let go of one of the branches and would twirl round and round. The circus organ stopped and a drum roll began, quiet at first then louder and louder until the rope was all undone. Slightly dizzy and feeling a bit sick I would smile bravely and the swing would be lowered to the ground where I would bow and the audience would roar and throw money and flowers to my feet, just as if I were an opera singer or a brilliant ballerina. Also at the circus I would be a foreign dare-devil in my brightly coloured costume. The music would play and I would appear from the curtain and run up to the swing where somebody was swinging back and forth. I would stand in the path of the swing and as it came towards me I would cross its path by the skin of my teeth. The audience loved this and each time they cheered and clapped. I would also lie underneath it and jump over it, each of these amazing stunts was incredibly dangerous (I could only do this when I could be sure that my mother was not looking out of the kitchen window). Another of my dreams was that the garden was a wide blue ocean and the swing was a ship, being rocked this way and that by the waves. As the wind blew and whistled through the apple tree leaves, the waves crashed against the sides of my ship. I was all alone on the wide ocean, the only food I had was a large store of apples. The clouds got dark and suddenly rain poured down, the ship rocked to and fro as the waves got bigger and stronger and the swing went higher and higher. The sea became a dark browny-green and almost looked angry, but I was an experienced captain. I was used to these storms. It was also comforting to know that my ship was tied up to an apple tree in an ordinary garden in the middle of England!

Catherine Thornton 4 Upper N

Fears of a Foreigner

Miles apart . . . we stand staring into the misty distance of foreign tides, trying to see beyond the houses and the trees, all the mountains, valleys, seas separating us in all but thought.

Miles apart . . . we sit looking up into the same blue infinity of sky, trying to reach beyond the moon and stars, the time and darkness keeping us apart in all but thought.

Miles apart . . . we lie sinking in a forest of thorns and dead leaves, people, places and forgotten ideas of a foreign

country, thinking there is something yet to gain, yet to

grasp, till at last we clasp each other in thought.

Miles apart . . . we swim in a sea of emptiness, solitude and vain hope, then, as the breeze hits us, we realize the truth and begin to fear that we may lose- -even the thoughts we have.

Miles apart . . . we live painfully, unable to pull away from the slow

stream of life, of invading thoughts, of 'could', 'would'

and 'should', none of it any good, and so we bear up and live for our thoughts.

Tamara Zivanovic 6 Lower

33

Another Day

The room was dark. The little boy, lying in his bed, could feel the cool breeze from the open window brush across his face. Flap, flap, went the curtain. Flap, flap. His eyes watched it, tracing the irregular movement.

From downstairs came the sound of voices. Those awful voices, sharp, bitter, that were shouting at each other, fighting, a constant battle of words. He hated it, hated it, hated it.

The sound rose and fell, just like the curtain stirred in the breeze. Flap, flap, this way and that. He covered his ears, trying to block the noise out, but still it came, on and on.

The boy suddenly sat up. He wanted to hear what they were saying. Pulling back the covers he slid out of bed, and padded to the door. The knob creaked as he turned it, but he pulled the door open, and tip-toed quietly down the stairs, the voices becoming louder as he approached. He sat down, rested his chin on his hands and listened. Through the half-open door and yellow light, he

could glimpse the woman sitting at the table. It was she who was talking.

". . . never cared. Lazy good-for-nothing. Always wasting money on drink. Never a thought for me or the boy. What do . .

"The boy! And just how much do you care for him? Tell me that!" the man spat back. The child started. They were talking about him. The snide comments, the cutting remarks, they were all about him. A tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another, and then another. He didn't mean to cry; somehow he couldn't help it. And in the background, he was still painfully aware of the voices; first hers, then his. She tried to interrupt but he would have his way:

". . . and that social worker. Why has she got to come here? Stupid woman. Always poking around, sticking her nose in other people's business. What good does she do, I'd like to know? I tell you we don't need her. We don't . .

The social worker. Was that the nice lady with the blonde hair? The boy liked her. She was

1rr­"qqV W1r­q,qW

WV ' 1yrrr 7!! Helena Bo dan—oulos-5 Lower H

34

always kind to him. But she didn't come so often now. The child wondered why. She used to give him sweets; his favourite kind. The ones with the chocolate filling.

Suddenly there was a crash. The boy jumped, and peering through the crack in the door, he saw the woman huddled on the floor, with the man standing over her. He didn't understand—what was she doing there? Then she raised her face and the boy saw it was streaked with blood. She was saying something, although this time she wasn't shouting. Now she was quiet. Still the man towered over her. Then came a sudden rush of movement and the door was flung open, filling the gloomy hall with light. The boy shrank back. The woman, throwing a coat over her shoulders, moved rapidly to the door, and out into the night. The sound of high heels tapping on the pavement grew fainter and fainter, and suddenly the boy understood. She had gone. She wasn't coming back. Chilled and sick at heart, the little boy crept back to bed, and sleep came before the tears had dried on his face.

"Timmy! Timmy! Wake up!"

The child stirred. Who was it? He opened his eyes and saw blonde hair and a cheerful smiling face. "Come on, Timmy. Wake up!" the woman said. "You're coining with me today. I've got someone I want you to meet." She lifted him Out of bed, and carried him downstairs and through the open door. Passing the living room, the boy smelt the stench of drink. But the man wasn't there.

Outside it was bright, and the glare of the sun shade made him squint. There, standing on the pavement, was a lady, Timmy decided. She was holding out her hand to him. He took it.

"Hello, Timmy," she said. "You're going to stay with me for a while. Would you like that?"

The boy nodded and smiled up at her. Another day had come.

Jane Nicholson 5 Lower N

Pressure

His sun-soaked dreams were sent chastened from his mind as the impersonal persistent wail of the alarm clock recalled him from the safe envelopes of sleep. The world outside his blankets seemed cold as his hand stumbled through the dark to find the knob which restored the former quiet.

His weighted lids momentarily shut again, the day ahead was too heavy a thought to contemplate. Lying there, delaying the evil moment when he would have to throw off his blankets, he could picture himself later that day, revising or sitting in

Emma Woodard-4 Upper H

the exam. The cold formality of the lined paper, the unbroken seats, the needle-sharp pencils, the green blotting paper, all were almost tangible to him as he lay, one hand limply across his furrowed forehead. Reaching out he turned on the radio; the same songs, the same chirpy voice, cheerily welcoming him to the world this 'marvellous Monday morning'. He turned the switch the other way, slicing off the D.J. in full flow.

If only it wasn't for his mum and dad, so sure that their son would do them proud. He could feel their reproach whenever they came in to find him watching T.V., listening to records, doing anything that wasn't revision. "Shouldn't you be working?" they'd say. Like the teachers, they expected eight '0' levels, eight grade 'A's. As for his school friends; "It's all right for you," they'd say, "you're really bright," they didn't understand. A couple of 'A's and they'd be well satisfied, their parents would be delighted. How

35

Annabel Aarons-6 Lower

he envied them. In no exam could he fall below 75%. He could imagine his father if he told him he'd got 'C's . . . "The sacrifices your mother and I have made to get you a good schooling, and this is how you reward us," and his mother would look on reproachfully. No one understood what it was like.

Steeling himself he kicked off the blankets and let the cold infiltrate his night-clothes. He groaned and swung his legs onto the floor. He crossed the room through the gloom and opened the window, taking a grim pleasure in meeting the freezing

chill of the early morning. Pedestrians passed below the window. He found it hard \to conceive that any of them had the problems he did. He slammed the glass shut and sat down at his desk, still in his pyjamas, and doodled on some rough paper. Half a page was soon covered with a multitude of five-point stars, the rest of the page was swamped with stricken faces, hands in manacles and vague, scrawled lines leading nowhere. He let his head fall forward onto the desk and his eyes fell shut.

The dream he slid into was confused and disturbed. People were calling his name. His violin teacher was telling him to practise but the notes he played were flat or sharp or wrong and his teacher seemed to grow, towering over him, seething with anger. "I'm sorry," he shouted, "I'll try and do better," but as he lifted the violin it was whisked away and he was left in the classroom. The teacher was explaining maths on the board but the words were inaudible, an illegible mess. The master suddenly turned on him. "Well, boy, what have we been talking about?" His throat dried, a red blush sprang up his neck making him sweat . . . "Haven't you been listening boy? CONCENTRATE, lad. How are you going to pass your exams if you don't CONCENTRATE? Your exams, remember? You'll answer to me if you get a C!" A malicious laugh spread and climbed, engulfing him till he had to cover his ears and when it subsided he was at his desk at home, reading a text book. The sentences were never ending; as he read them over and over again, they made less and less sense. His mother came in with the master and the violinist, all inciting him to work harder.

Their words built up into a wall of sound. One of them was shaking him. "Stop! Stop!" he shouted, then he jerked awake. His mother was standing over him.

"Are you O.K.? You fell asleep."

"Yeah, sorry. I'm fine now."

"Well, it's time you were up and doing, you don't want to be late for your first exam," she smiled encouragingly not seeing the mist of depression in his eyes. She held out a clean shirt.

"I ironed you a clean shirt." "Oh, thanks."

"Cheer up, I know you'll be absolutely wonderful. Breakfast is waiting on the table." She turned and went out. He stared after her, then in one movement turned, and hurled the shirt across the room.

Olivia Aarons 4 Upper E

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Victoria Sargenl-5 Lower H

Ladybird Chatterley's Son and Lover in Love with a Rainbow, or, How to write a D. H. Lawrence Novel

Lady Constance Beveridge was unhappy. It was only a dim realisation in the passional recesses of her soul, and she would never have admitted it openly to anyone, but she was unhappy. She had no outward reason to be unhappy. She had a simply adorable aristocratic husband, Cecil, who absolutely worshipped her: he would come to her at night and kiss her feet, calling her his goddess, his Ice Maiden, his beautiful Atlanta. He absolutely adored her. And deep down, though she refused to admit it, for there was always her ice-cold will struggling against those hot, dark fires within, she hated it.

She endured this combat of forces within her for years, always managing to control those subversive desires, but only through the utmost effort of her cold, iron will. Gradually, however, her mind and body became weaker and could not withstand this daily battle and she began to grow tired and nervous. Cecil, in deep alarm at her condition, sent her to the doctor, who decided she should go to a rest home in the country, away from all her London friends and her husband, for the doctor recognised those darker elemental forces struggling inside her, though she refused to acknowledge their presence, and he hoped that through solitude and time away from the social life, she could perhaps reconcile will and desires.

And so, she went off to the country where she spent much time by herself, wandering around the fields aimlessly, looking, she knew, for something, but what? She did not know. Thus it was that one evening she was walking alone in the woods. Ahead of her, the sun was setting in its primitive golden glory and a gentle breeze blew through the trees. Below her feet sprouted great tufts of monkshood which shined with a dark, black-blue, menacing gorgeousness. It frightened her a little, this menacing beauty of the much monkshood. Sinister it was, yet thrilling and it seemed to portend a momentous event. She shivered a little. At that moment, she heard the crackling of twigs. She looked forward and saw a figure approaching. As it came closer, she saw that it was the under-gamekeeper, Mel 011ivers. Nearer and nearer he strode with that rough, masculine swagger of his, that dark assurance, untainted by the demands of the refined, cultured society that had created her diffident, charming husband. Nearer and nearer he came, dark and sinister, but oh! so beautiful, like that menacing gloriousness of the much monkshood that grew all around. She was transfixed, staring ahead of her as she felt his eyes, burning with dark fire, boring into her very soul. Ah! That insolent swing

of his hips, the way he strode so easily with that quintessentially masculine active life-force glowing out of him, that made her femininity call out to him. Her ivy femininity longed to cling around the oak of his masculinity. Ah God, she could hardly endure it as he came closer and closer. He stopped. He looked at her.

In that moment, the inmost parts of their souls spoke to each other in that awesome, mystical communion of the sexes. The dark, passional, elemental powers present in both of them took hold of them. Ah, but it thrilled and frightened her at the same time. She felt his masculine spirit claim her as his promised bride. She was his. He had total control over her body and soul. And he knew that he had such control. And she knew that he knew. And he knew that she .

If you go on long enough it turns into a novel.

A darkly passionate Laurentophobe 6 Upper

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Cardine Ashbrook-4 Lower N

Diving and Swimming

I had just come out of the changing rooms. I went round the pool and dived in, it was cool and refreshing. I knelt at the bottom, then I came up again and swam. At first it was all misty When I opened my eyes, but then I could see people, I floated on the water I felt so free. It was time to get out, I had a hot shower and I went home.

Joanna Barnett (Aged 8) 2 Lower A

A Description of Charney Manor

The character of this house is magical. Whenever I look at the Manor, it makes me go back in time.

The mossy stone roof is crumbly and ancient. The moss and lichen make it look green and olive-yellow.

This medieval antique place is beautiful, although it also has a mysterious atmosphere.

The tiles are bumpy and mossy, old and ancient. They look like slates, but they are stones cut thinly and quite sharp. They cover the whole roof and give the finishing effect to the whole manor.

Anke Murmann 3 Lower A

In Anticipation

There are four more days until we go on our trip to Charney Manor. I am very excited and I can hardly wait until Monday morning. I hope it will be as nice as I think it is.

There are four little kittens, or so I have heard, a black one; a ginger one; a black one with a white patch on its chest and a tabby one.

In my bedroom I have made a collection of the things that I am going to take to Charney. I have lots of pencils, three rubbers, two rulers, some coloured pencils, my diary and lots of other things.

On Saturday I am going to Ealing Broadway with Anke and we are going to buy some sweets for the journey there and the journey back.

I just can't stop thinking about Charney Manor. About the bedrooms. Are they big or small, light or dark?

The food—is it tasty or untasty? I hope it is tasty!

I like packing a lot, so I am looking forward to Sunday when Mummy and I will do all of the packing. I don't think that I will pack many clothes, but I shall remember my pencils and rubbers. The past six months have gone so quickly. I have been very excited all the time, but now I am going to burst, because I can't wait till Monday.

Gabrielle Jamieson 3 Lower A

Bricks and Mortar

The rain glistens on the dirty roofs, Which are so tightly pushed together. Someone's solution to housing problems. Chimneys perched on top of them by the dozen, Oozing out thick black smoke Which envelopes the skies. Long narrow windows provide A looking glass of poverty. Small narrow rooms, damp And sparsely (if at all) furnished. Houses that never stood a chance Against the luxurious modern creations. Now abandoned by the people Who once didn't know better.

Naziema Mia 4 Upper N

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The Elves' Adventure

Hello! My name is Pixie Choppin, I live with some homely elves. The homely elves are a very nice kind of elf and they make their holes very comfortable. Our hole is on the third floor of the village manor house. We all have green hats except Poplin, who insists on wearing yellow. Poplin wears a yellow long-legged jump suit, I wear wide red shorts that come down to my knees and an airy red T-shirt. The others wear blue knickerbockers with blue buckle and large blue jackets. Dobby is the only one with shoes. We all love laughing.

"Let's explore," said Halibut this morning as he did up his blue buckle. "Why not?" said Hotpot (he usually does the cooking). Dobby went crazy, he loves outings. We pranced out of the hole and Dobby, who had pushed his way out first, bumped into something. Halibut looked up, "Jimmy Cricket!" he exclaimed and the rest of us looked up. There was a huge, brown, wooden thing that led onto more huge, brown, wooden things. There was a loud noise and a giant came in. "IT'S A GIANT!" said Poplin and Halibut together. "No, it isn't," said Dobby. "It's a human." We ran over to a rug to hide under and the human came nearer. She picked up the wooden thing and dragged it over to the other side of the room. Another human (or as Poplin said, "Giant"), came in. "Miss Hunt, why are you moving everything to one end of the room?" "Don't bother me, Marcia dear," said the big human. "May I sit on the table and watch you?" said the little human. "Alright but watch quietly while I get on with this spring cleaning." "It's a table!" said Poplin. "What is?" said Halibut (he's a bit slow at grasping things sometimes). "Dancing green goblins!" said Poplin "Dustman fairies! That's the wooden thing you looked at." While they were talking, Hotpot and I had crept out. We saw the big human come nearer. "Go and get the others" I said. "Why?" said Hotpot. "I'll explain later," 1 said. "When you've got them."

He came with Poplin on his shoulders, Dobby behind on the go-cart that Halibut and I made, and Halibut turned cartwheels beside them. The human came nearer. This will make you think how frightening it is to be small, because the human came nearer and Halibut fell over, Poplin fell off Hotpot's shoulders and the carpet vibrated under us, but 1 pushed Dobby onto her shoe and she stopped, I mean the human, and we got on and tied the rope, or perhaps you'd call it a shoelace, to the handle of the cart. I helped the others onto the human's shoe. Then, she started walking. Dobby was nearly sick and Hotpot wouldn't do anything but eat biscuits (he said it

was because he was hungry but I think it was to stop himself from being sick). Halibut had practically tied himself up with shoe lace in case he fell off, he is rather tall and he felt the bumps more than us. We held on tight and the human walked on. Poplin just stared with his eyes open. The human went out of the door, it was very big and Hotpot yelled to Dobby "Don't look up." I held Poplin on my knee while we went down the stairs, but half way down, we fell off the shoe. We had to wait for about half an hour and then, quite by chance, a mouse came ambling along. Dobby and I explained that we were stuck, and the mouse said, "I'll take yer back ter yer 'ouse", he was a very common, bad speaking mouse. We all climbed onto his back and yelled, "Go." It was like a flash, we were nearing our hole, when suddenly the mouse tripped. We all tumbled off and we fell down our hole. "What a wonderful time we've had," said Poplin. "Hm, hm," said Halibut. This all happened this morning.

Sarah Robinson (Aged 8) lB

Crocodile

Sharp white teeth, like stalactites, Long, hinged, snapping jaws. Rough, hard scales, Brown-green in colour, Coming from hot slimy mud, Small sly eyes, poking out of his head. Dart quickly, scanning his prey, He moves slowly and quietly Towards his next meal; With a snap of the jaw it's gone.

Abigail Waraker 4 Lower N

Vivienne Bull-3 Upper E

39

A Day out with Alice Rain

I had invited Alice (from 'Alice in Wonderland') to tea. She arrived at 2.30 p.m. punctually. She came dressed in a clean, quite long, blue dress. Her hair had been brushed so much that it sparkled in the sunlight. Her hair was long blonde hair which was blowing around in the slight wind.

Alice (with her good manners) sat down in a very dainty way. I had told her that we would go to the woods. Alice replied that she was very willing to go although she did not show it on her face. When we got down to the woods Alice just stood and stared for a few seconds then walked over to inc. We did have a nice time in the woods except that Alice sometimes got a little on my nerves because of her goody-goody attitude in some things. For instance, I asked Alice to run around a while with me but she looked at inc in a way that made inc think I just shouldn't have asked that question.

At 5.30 p.m. we were back at my home. Alice did not look too pleased for her dress had become a little dirty at the bottom. At 6.30 p.m. Alice said that she had to go. In some ways I was rather glad that she had to go but I did, on the other hand, feel very sorry to see her go. Altogether it had been a very nice day.

Dorota Dunin-Borkowska 2 Upper B

A Day in the Life of Jim

Jim was a clown. He was one of the funniest clowns in England. He had a very long nose and knobbly knees. One day he was asked if he could come and perform in a circus.

He said, "Yes, of course." So he put on his yellow shorts and his pink spotted tee shirt and went on the stage. He did one cartwheel and threw himself up in the air. Then he threw buckets of water at the audience. They laughed so much they nearly wanted to cry. Then he let them stop laughing. He brought from the door a real elephant and let everybody ride on it.

Then it was time to go home. Everybody was tired but they were sad to leave Jim, so he threw pretend noses into the audience. Then he went home. He was sad to leave them, too, but he went home to bed.

Katie Harvey (Aged 9) 2 Lower B

Splish! Splash! Splosh! Goes the rain Dripping down The window pane. Pit, pat, pitter, patter, Dripping down the gutter.

Margarita Arateos (Aged 7)

The Shell

The shell is white and bro wn. It is shaped like a hill. It is frilly at the bottom.

Natasha Price (Aged 5) Kindergarten

A Description of Tom and Hatty from 'Tom's Midnight Garden' by Philippa Pearce

Tom is angry when he is sent away from home but when he finds Hatty he decides that he wants to stay with his aunt. He is a curious boy who is always asking questions, particularly about 'time' and 'ghosts', because he is anxious to discover the secret of the Midnight Garden.

Tom, like all boys, does not like to think that a girl knows more than he does and is very condescending. For example, when Hatty tells him that she is a princess and that he may kiss her hand, he says, "I'd rather not", then adds, "thank you" in case she really is a princess.

Although Tom does not mind being invisible in the Midnight Garden, he is anxious at first to make contact with James (one of the boys of the house). When he realises that it is only Hatty who can see him, they share many adventures and become friends.

Hatty has long dark hair which is tied back and she wears a blue pinafore with frills. She is excitable and imaginative and often pretends to be other people, for example, the princess.

She is a secretive, lonely girl who has many hiding places in the Garden. She enjoys making bows and arrows and climbing trees.

Tom and Hatty have few of the same interests at first but the main reason that they become close friends is that they are lonely.

Nicola Marks 2 Upper A

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The Seaside

I went to the seaside in the car and it was a long way away and so it was very hot and sticky in the car. When we got there I ran to get a space because it was crowded and then I waited for mummy because she was carrying the things. When she caught up with me I straight away undid the zip and got out my swimming costume and put it on, and then went paddling in the sea. The sea was very cold and so I only had a little paddle and then I got out of the sea and went to mummy to get dry. Then we had a picnic, and then I went back to the sea and then I came out again and went home.

Danielle Poulain (Aged 6) Kindergarten

Peace

It makes me feel peaceful when I go to the country and walk down little winding paths. I feel the breeze and hear the birds sing.

I also feel peaceful when we are up on a cliff and it is almost dark. Feeling auntie's comforting hand and watching the sun slowly set is peaceful.

Sometimes when I am lying in bed I feel sorry for the children who cannot be peaceful, and cannot spare any time to watch little rivers run down to the sea.

Caroline Goldsworthy (Aged 8) 1A

The Band

Bang goes the drum Screech goes the fiddle Boom goes the tuba Clang goes the bell. Strum goes the banjo. The band makes a terrible noise.

Sarah Cohen (Aged 7)

Why the Peacock has Eyes on his Tail

A long time ago, when peacocks and peahens could fly, there was a peacock who couldn't fly. In those day peacocks had plain green tails. One day the peacock said to himself, "I wish I had eyes on my tail, then I could see when danger was near." Just at that moment a fairy flew by. "Well," she said, ''I'll grant him his wish." When the peacock found he had a tail full of eyes, he went to his wife and strutted up and down with an open tail. He was so proud of his tail that one day when the fairy flew by and saw him, she stook away the sight in the eyes in his tail and gave eyes like them to the other peacocks. When the peacock saw this he ran away from other peacocks and peahens, but he ran into a lion's mouth and that was the end of him.

Ruth Wielgosz (Aged 8) lB

London Town

London Town alight at night Illuminated with floodlit lights, Big Ben a-striking half past nine As all the people go out to dine Up and down London Town.

London Town so grand and fine With Nelson's column, towering high; Lions, proudly guarding all the time Up and down London Town.

London Town is a sparkling mass Of fountains, caught in lights Around the town. Busy, bustling Up and down London Town!

Emma Reddish 2 Upper A ZOe McLeod-4 Upper H

41

S/li/pa

I I Desll,nukh-4 Lower \

Summer Signs

'Have you noticed anything changing, Since Spring's last call? Have you noticed anything, Anything at all?

'Yes, I have noticed, Since Spring's last call, I have noticed the wind so cool Creeping through trees' branches so tall, Past their delicately fragrant blossoms Past their green leaves at the very bottom. I have noticed buds opening afresh, Fledgling's feathers covering their flesh.

'Oh, yes, 1 have noticed the change, Since Spring's last range.'

Lara de Haas 2 Upper B

A Butterfly

Soft gentle butterfly With silky wing and ebony eye, Darting swiftly, in elegant flight To find a flower within sight.

A beautiful crest of burning blue and a striking whirl of emerald too.

The sun is red, and shadows long The bird has finished her daily song, Soft and gentle butterfly Land softly on a flower to die.

Jadwiga Gromadzka (Aged 9) 2 Lower A

May

May beauty Is like a shadow of the world in its creation of the beauty of the garden. Green springs up from the ground. May is beautiful. May is life.

Samantha Tham (Aged 7) 1A

The Snail

All 1 saw of that snail Was its silvery trail And the broken Shell.

Shattered to pieces like a china vase Was the brown plain home That was once so protective To that Snail.

A hungry blackbird with eyes as bright As beads Flew off with that snail And Devoured it.

The trail Like a silver cotton thread, So delicate, The only, remaining part Of that particular Snail.

Emma Phillips 3 Lower B

42

The Mulberry Tree

1, the mulberry tree, stand in the centre of a rather bedraggled lawn. I must be now at least a hundred years old! Children come and write poems about me. What stuff and nonsense it is! I could write a much better autobiography of myself.

My branches, thin and broken, still have a look of distinguished authority over other trees. My trunk yet uneven and knobbly is placed firmly in this rough hard earth. Even the sun shining in the sky could not possibly be as handsome as me!

I seem an old man with these silly wooden things poking me to hold me up. Those children are here again, just listen to their descriptions of me. Withering indeed! I'm sure they couldn't bring new buds to life every spring.

My name will go down in history I expect. When Charles II was on the throne, I often helped him to hide from his enemies in my leafy boughs. That was when I was younger.

Oh I am indeed a most wonderful tree. Probably the most handsome in the whole of England.

Siobhan Marke 3 Lower B or the mulberry tree

Storm

Oh isn't it awfully hot! I feel I'm cooking in a cooking pot. My head is going round and round The birds are singing a nice hot sound. I wish it was cool! I could swim in a pool! If only it was cooler! Then There was a spitting here And a spitting there There was a spitting everywhere. But suddenly there was a curling and a crashing. A battering and a bashing, A clattering and a clashing And the rain came now. Drip, drop, drip, drop, drip, drop. The drip was quick, The drop was quicker. The rain came bucket by bucket Pouring on the earth. It went slower and stopped. Now all is hot. I like rain a lot. If only it was cooler!

Yolanda McGill (Aged 9) 2 Lower B

Sharon Gertler (Aged 8)-2 Lower A Winning entry in the Junior Photographic Competition

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Old Girls' Association

President Miss Percy

Hon. Secretary Mrs. Cozens (Lucy Stedman) 1935-1943

Hon. Treasurer Mrs. Sandland (Gillian Mitchell) 1945-1954

Assistant Secretary Mrs. Strachan (Audrey Apperley) 1935-1940

Permanent Members 2nd Mistress of School Editor of School Magazine Mrs. Bird (Doris Wilson)

Elected Members Mrs. Thexton (Robina Harry) 1931-1944 Susan Wilson 1966-1977 Carol Carey 1966-1979 Margaret Shrimpton 1934-1940 Mrs. Hering (Jane Kent) 1956-1967 Susan Hardy 1965-1976 Mrs. Irvine-Brown (Juliet Lockley) 1954-1968 Hilary McKenzie -1965 Mrs. Lloyd (Sarah Hall) 1955-1968

At our September Social this year, we shall regretfully say goodbye to Miss Percy. As Old Girls, we have all been made to feel very welcome by her and we shall look forward to welcoming our new 'Old Girl' next year. Thank you for all your news which you continue to send me. It does make our section of the magazine more interesting. Thank you to those who have added to their subscription to help towards the increasing cost of magazines and postage. The committee are so pleased that our September Socials are so well attended. We look forward to seeing you there this year.

Best wishes to you all, Lucy Cozens

November 1982 Miss Percy writes:

I was given such an enjoyable party in September by the Old Girls' Association. For those of you unable to be there, I am so pleased to have this opportunity to thank you for my gifts—a typewriter ready for all my writings after Christmas! and tokens for garden equipment. Thank you all very much indeed. I have enjoyed my contact with the Association enormously and have had the pleasure of meeting those whose fellowship I have greatly valued.

Engagements

SUSAN HYDE to James Trapp. MARCIA JONES to Colonel Maximilian Karl Trofaier, Defence Attache Austrian Embassy. SUSAN WILSON to John Ashley-Vale.

Marriages

SYLVIA BARKER to Eric Forder on 1st August 1981. ANNE BURNS to Saros Moraitis on 29th August 1981. SIAN GREEN to ? Lowry on 15th August 1981. ANDREA HAZELL to Cohn Adlam on 12th September 1981. VICTORIA HINNELL to Christian Kagi on 19th August 1981. CAROLE LOCKWOOD to Philip Davis on 6th June 1981. DAWN MANSELL to Duncan Slaughter on 29th May 1982. ALEXANDRA PARISH (Mrs. Abramsohn) to Forrest Broman on 4th July 1982. ANNE RICHARDSON to Brian Rogers on 12th September 1981.

Births

To RITA CHRISTOV (Mrs. Donelan) a daughter Christina Jane, a sister for Julia, on 29th January 1982.

To MARGARET CONSTANCE (Mrs. Rich) a son, Stephen Daniel, on 3rd October 1981, a brother for Amy Joanna born on 7th March 1980.

To JANET COOPER (Mrs. Newton) a son, David William, a brother for Eleanor, on 30th October 1981.

To NICOLA FAITH (Mrs. Lee) a daughter, Eleanor Hannah, a sister for Matthew, on 17th July 1981.

To JANE FREAKE (Mrs. Witkowska) a daughter, Kirsty Jane, on 2nd February 1981.

To JANE GIBSON (Mrs. Melia) a daughter, Louisa Jane, on 30th August 1981.

To BERYL MATTOCK (Mrs. Crowhurst) a son, Benjamin James Edward, a brother for Daniel, on 21st September 1981.

To VIVIEN SELLMAN (Mrs. Filewood) a daughter, Lucy Jean, on 5th August 1981.

To JANE SHERLOCK (Mrs. Perry) a daughter, Alexandra Jane, on 23rd May 1981.

To PENELOPE STEPHENS (Mrs. Pethick) a daughter, Hannah Louise, a sister for Hilary, on 26th May 1982.

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To JACQUELINE STRACHAN (Mrs. Glicksman) a daughter, Alison Jane, on 22nd March 1981.

To JULIE TAYLOR (Mrs. Shoesmith) a son, John, on 18th July 1981.

To JULIA WADE (Mrs. Wakefield) a son, Paul James, a brother for Christopher, on 24th August 1981.

Deaths CLARICE CHURCHER on 5th June 1981. ETHEL LIDGATE on 12th May 1981. Vice-Principal of Stover School, South Devon for 30 years and retired in 1966.

During this past year they had both written to say how proud they were to have been a pupil of the school and their appreciation for the magazine and news.

Obituary YVONNE BRADFIELD On September 27th 1982, eighteen Old Girls, most of whom had been in Miss McPherson's III Lower, met at Robina Thexton's house. We had gone up the school together and left in 1943, and because Evelyn Burrowes (née Schallibaum) was on a rare visit from Canada, we met for lunch. We were particularly happy that Yvonne Bradfield could come. She was a busy General Practitioner in Fulham.

Later the same week she had a cerebral haemorrhage from which she died on October 3rd, aged 56 years. Two of us went to the funeral. The church was filled with her grieving patients. She had been the best sort of caring doctor and trained at the Royal Free Hospital. She will be missed by many, not least her old form mates who had hoped to see more of her. She had a daughter, Yvette, who is also a doctor.

Robina Thexton (née Harry)

News of Old Girls JANE ACKERMAN (Mrs. Rowlands) is still enjoying her work as Staff Health Officer, Llandudno General Hospital. She says that nursing life is very little different from 38 years ago! SYLVIA BARKER (Mrs. Forder) is teaching in a Junior School in Cambridge. AMANDA BELCHAM is working at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester and is taking an Arts Administration course at the City University. She would like to contact other Old Girls who are working in Theatre, T.V. etc. with relation to "Women in Entertainments" '—"Women Live" project in May 1982.

JANE BINGHAM (Mrs. Ashby) has travelled with her husband, representing their small academic publishing company, to such remote spots as The Yemen, Japan and Taiwan. BARBARA BRADLEY (Mrs. Broughton-Head) is still lecturing for the National Dairy Council on English regional cheeses. TONI BUNCH was for 16 years a Librarian of the Scottish Health Service Centre. She is now a lecturer (in library management) in the Department of Librarianship at Strathclyde University. She would be delighted to see any Old Girls who may be in either Edinburgh or Glasgow. (4/4 Dean Path, Edinburgh) ALICE CHURCHER has well passed her 90th birthday and sends her best wishes to any who remember her. MISS CRICHTON-MILLER left N.H. & E.H.S. nearly 40 years ago and says that her 6½ years on the staff under Miss McCaig made a deep impression on her. She leads a very happy retirement and sees pretty often Miss Finn, Mrs. Whittick (Miss Mason), Ruth Eldridge, Judith O'Riordan, Pat Kingston (née Ross), Ruth Marsh (née Sladen), Terry Pethick (née Chaplin) and Pamela Bloxham (née Luson). MARY DARKE has retired from the post of Head Medical Social Worker at Royal Surrey County Hospital, Guildford. SANDRA DAVIDSON (Mrs. Pickering) is still living in Nigeria. JEAN DIBBEN has completed her 2nd year at St. Hilda's College, Oxford, where she is studying PPE. She has been working on the student newspaper "Cherwell" and co-directed a play. SHEILA DICKSON Rev, is settling down in Desborough as Minister of the United Reformed Church and is finding country life to her liking and infinitely superior to Hackney. JANE GIBSON (Mrs. Melia) has passed her Ph.D. in the Faculty of Medicine at the University of London. MARGARET GODRICH (Mrs. Stebbing-Allen) is still teaching in a primary school in Hemel Hempstead. MARGARET GREW has now retired and is living at Eastbourne. JANET GUASCHI (Mrs. Ridley) is still working for the B.B.C. in the film and videotape libary. VANESSA HAINES (Mrs. Hammond) is doing research in Clinical Biochemistry at the Royal Victoria Infirmary, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and enjoying it very much. LYN HARRIS (Mrs. Sallows) is continually busy teaching for the National Childbirth Trust in Ealing and at the London headquarters. She regularly gives talks to pupil Midwives from West Middlesex and Queen Charlotte's Hospitals. She also breeds Labradors and helps in the family bakery business

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NICOLE HATCHER, after five years at the Middlesex Hospital Medical School, qualified as a doctor and became house surgeon at Cheltenham General Hospital. SUSAN HEMMING (Mrs. Meek) is living in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia where her husband is Transport Adviser to the Ministry of Planning, and she is teaching English in the International Islamic School. If any other Old Girls are in Saudi Arabia, please get in touch with her. MISS HENDRY went with Miss Russell on her sabbatical leave last year to the Far East visiting Sri Lanka, Singapore, Bali, Hongkong, Bangkok and the Gulf of Siam. They also went to the South of Spain walking, bird watching and flower finding. JUDITH HEWITT gained a 1st Class Honours (B.Sc.) at Brunel University and was married on 11th July 1981. FRANCIS HICKEY (Mrs. Ball) is continuing teaching and writing and has won a prize in the 1981 Brainwave Awards (sponsored by the Times Educational Supplement and Hestair Hope). It was runner-up prize in the environmental studies section and she received it for her design for map models. She is also writing stories for children in the 7 to 11 age range. VICTORIA HINNELL (Mrs. Kagi) is working in the International Primary School of Zurich. KATHRYN HORSCROFT is abroad in France as an 'assistante' for the academic year 1982/3 as part of her degree course. SUSAN HYDE is working as a Management Consultant since graduating from Trinity Hall Cambridge. ANGELA JONES (Mrs. Rumbold C.B.E.) is the new M.P. for Mitcham and Merton. She won the seat for the Conservatives after 20 years of Labour control. MARIA JONES has passed Law Society Part II's with distinction in Accounts Paper. After a 3 month visit to California and Mexico to study Franciscan Missions in 1980 she is now working as Assistant Solicitor with the firm to whom she was originally articled. CATHERINE KNOX is working for a year in Southampton University Library after completing her geography course at Manchester University. She has now accepted a place at La Sainte Union College of Higher Education, Southampton to take a P.G.C.E. AUDREY LATIMER's (Lady Dover) husband is now Chancellor of St. Andrew's University. CAROLE LOCKWOOD (Mrs. Davis) is continuing to work in Cambridgeshire as a State Registered Nurse. HILARY McKENZIE was sworn in as a J.P. in April 1981 and is completing her BA Law degree this year and is intending to qualify as a barrister next year. She is continuing to run her writing

and public relations consultancy business. ANN MILNER and SALLY have a brother Ben who was born on 25th March 1981. JEAN NEWBY (Mrs. Pocklington) is Headmistress of West Raynham Primary School. SARAH NEWTON (Mrs. Jones) is working as an Information Scientist at a Ministry of Defence research establishment, having completed a post-graduate diploma in Librarianship and Information Service. GILL PALMER gained a II degree (B. Sc. (Hons)Agric) from Reading University. WENDY PECK has gained her M.B.B.S. and is working at St. Stephen's Hospital, Chelsea. SHEILA PHILLIPS (Mrs. Woodbridge) was sad to hear that the 8th Ealing Guides has closed down. She was a member of the Kingfisher Patrol from 1935 when Miss Irons was captain with Miss Stiles as lieutenant, and later Miss Freer. She says "Great times we had at camp, and during the war camp continued (daytime only) with camouflaged bell tents by the tennis courts near the Old Guide Hut. RHODA ROBBINS (Mrs. Smith) is still enjoying part-time teaching (Maths) at Hitchin Girls School. She had a right knee joint replaced and can certainly recommend the operation to anyone else suffering from arthritis. ANNE RICHARDSON (Mrs. Rogers) is working at University Health Centre, Reading, as assistant physician. BRENDA RUSS (Mrs. Russell) has retired from her position as Personnel Manager with Mitsui Machinery Sales U.K. Ltd. and is thoroughly enjoying the "leisure". JOAN SIMMONS is still working at the National Physical Laboratory, Teddington. ERICA SIMPSON is living in Germany and studying the cello with Pierre Fournier in Geneva. MARGARET TROJANOWSKA gained a 111 B.Sc. Honours degree from University College, Cardiff. MISS TUCKER is Headmistress of Headington School, Oxford. SARAH WALKER gained a First Class Honours degree in English at Birmingham University. CATHERINE WOODWARK qualified as a doctor and went to Cheltenham General Hospital as a house surgeon.

Change of Address

Sylvia Barker (Mrs. Forder), 82 Chelveston Way, Westwood, Peterborough, Cambridgeshire.;

Jane Bingham (Mrs. Ashby), 11 Abberbury Road, Iffley, Oxford.

Barbara Bradley (Mrs. Broughton-Head), Laburnam Cottage, Westcombe, Shepton Mallet, Somerset BA4 6ER.

46

Ann Brett (Mrs. Easton) 38 Thorne House, Wilmslow Road, Fallowfield, Manchester M14 6HW.

Mrs. Brunt, Flat 2, Richmond Court, Richmond Road, Seaford, East Sussex BN25 1DR.

Toni Bunch, 4/4 Dean Path—not Dean's Path. Anne Burns (Mrs. Moraitoy), c/o Dr. & Mrs.

T. H. S. Burns, 27 Riverbank Road, Ramsey, Isle of Man.

Teresa Chaplin (Mrs. Pethick), Carpenters, Neals Lane, Chetnole, Sherborne, Dorset DT9 6PF.

Gene Cooper (Mrs. Barber), 'Tudor House', 36 Chyngton Road, Seaford, East Sussex BN26 4HP.

Jane Cozens (Mrs. Macleod), 47a Bedford Court Mansions, Bedford Avenue, London WC1 3AA.

Nicola Faith (Mrs. Lee), 32 Lakeside Road, Branksome Park, Poole, Dorset.

Marjorie Fryars (Mrs. Pottinger), 55 Hamilton Avenue, Harborne, Birmingham B17 8AS.

Margaret Grew, 14 Kepplestone, Staveley Road, Eastbourne, East Sussex BN20 7JY.

Juliet Haddon, c/o 9 Lyndon Mead, Sandbridge. St. Albans, Herts. AL4 9EX.

Vanessa Haines (Mrs. Hammond), 22 The Crest, Bediington, Northumberland NE22 6H4.

Sheila Hartwell (Mrs. Sudworth), 50 Kinlet Road not 51 Kinley Road.

Veronica Haring (Mrs. Levy), 8 The Crossways, Wembley Park, Middlesex.

Alison Harvey (Mrs. Willmor), 69 Hyde Road, Sanderstead, Surrey CR2 9NS.

Andrea Hazeil (Mrs. Adiam), 3 Windsor Road, Barnet, Herts.

Mary Height (Mrs. Cheslyn), 698 Bath Road, Taplow, Maidenhead, Berks. SL6 5MZ.

Susan Hemming (Mrs. Meek), c/o Ministry of Planning, P0 Box 358, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

Frances Hickey (Mrs. Bail), 10 Fourways, Eggesford, Chuimleigh, Devon EXI8 7QZ.

Victoria Hinnel (Mrs. Kagi), Strohwiesster 3, 8810 Horgen, Switzerland.

Valerie Hoare (Mrs. Hiscock), 48 The Ridge, Orpington, Kent.

Anne Hollowell, Mole Cottage, 80 Derry Hill, Near Caine, Wilts.

Iris Irven, 18 Vine Close, Hanwood, Shrewsbury SY5 8HR.

Maria Jones, 36 Pembridge Villas, London Wil. Ruth Jones, 39 Appledore, Landor Road,

Knowie, Solihull, West Midlands BN5 9HZ Diana Knox (Mrs. Barclay), 220 Cromwell Road,

Cambridge CBI 3EQ. Carole Lockwood (Mrs. Davis), 60 Edinburgh

Drive, St. Ives, Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire. Hilary McKenzie, 17 Edmondscote, Argyle Road,

Ealing W13 OHQ. Mary McLaughlin (Mrs. Jewkes), 47 Priory Road,

Kew, Richmond, Surrey TW9 3DQ. Patricia Mills (Mrs. Cutler), c/o 202 Cavendish

Avenue, Ealing W13 OJW. Ann Milner, 29 South Hill, Godaiming, Surrey

GW7 1JT. Jean Newby (Mrs. Pockiington), 2 Station

Cottages, Blackhall Lane County School, North Elmham, Norfolk NR20 5LA.

Miss Oswald, Cawardens, 2 College Close, Lingfield, Surrey RH7 614G.

Alexandra Parish (Mrs. Broman), 13A Kaplan Street, N of Yam, Israel 46606.

Tanya Polunin, 6 Alma Green, Stoke Row, Henley-on-Thames, Oxon.

Anne Richardson (Mrs. Rogers), 20 Amherst Road, Reading, Berks. RG6 1NU.

Rhoda Robbins (Mrs. Smith), 7 Broadmead, Hitchin, Herts. SG4 9LV.

Jane Sellers (Mrs. Mansell), Flat 2, Wellington House, 43 Abbey Road, Great Malvern, Worcs.

Vivien Sellman (Mrs. Fiiewood), 25 Templedene Avenue, Staines, Middx.

Ruth Sladen (Mrs. Marsh), Chaise House, not The Grange SNI4 7BA.

Julie Wade (Mrs. Wakefield), 'Jordans', Hill Way, Gerrards Cross, Bucks. SL9 8BH.

Claire Woods, 113 Bow Lane, Finchley N12.

47

List of New Members

* COR1NNA ALBERG, 85 Princes Gate Mews, London WS7 2PS.

* SUSAN ATKINSON, 98 Boston Gardens, Brentford, Middlesex TW8 9LP.

§ F1ONA BARTER, The Vicarage, 66 Lampton Road, Hounslow, Middlesex.

* KATY BRIERS, 6 The Orchard, London W4. * GEORGINA CAVE, 14 Park Hill, Eating W5. § CATHY CHANDLER, 34 Avenue Gardens,

Acton W3 8HB. * ANNE CHOULERTON, 10 Roseberry

Gardens, Eating W13 6HD.

§ MARY ANN FREAKE, Basement Flat, 206 Ladbroke Grove, Wl0.

* STEPHANIE GALLAT, 77 Monks Park, Wembley, Middlesex.

* ANNA GORDON, 16 Kings Avenue, Eating W5 2SH.

* CAROLYN HARDEN, 8 Pebworth Road, Harrow, Middlesex HAl 3UB.

* ALEXANDRA LASCARIDES, The New House, Church Road, Ham Common, Richmond, Surrey.

§ NICOLA LAVERS, 'Englefield', Shrubbs Hill Lane, Sunningdale, Ascot, Berks. SL5 OLD.

§ MURIEL LOYDELL, 45 Allan Way, Acton W3 OPW.

* SUSAN MARSHALL, 35 Chatsworth Road, Eating W5 3DD.

* ANDREA MILLER, 6 Winscombe Crescent, Eating W5 1AZ.

* NICOLA POPE, 180 Meadowview Road, Hayes End, Middlesex UB4 8EZ.

* LINDSEY JEAN RIDGEWELL (Mrs. Hill), 16 Priory Hill, Wembley, Middlesex HAO 2HQ.

* SARAH ROBERTS, 56 Cleveland Road, Eating W13 8AJ.

* KATHERINE A. D. SANKEY, Bradbys, Harrow-on-the-Hill, Middlesex.

* NICOLA SARGENT, 43 Brentham Way, Eating W5 1BE.

* KAREN R. SEGALL, I Manor House Drive, London NW6 7DE.

* DAWN SLACK, 10 Baronsmede, Ealing W5 4LT.

* CATHERINE SLAVIN, 28 Templewood, Eating W13.

* JANET TUFF, 80 Woodville Road, Ham, Richmond, Surrey TW1O 7QW.

* Life Member § 5 Year Member

Songs Sung by the Madrigal Choir

Summer was Icumen in—Anon.; Fly, Singing Bird, Fly—Elgar; Angelus ad Virginem—Anon.; The Curse of an Aching Heart; In These Delightful, Pleasant Groves—Purcell; Alleluia —Lasso; Peter Piper—Frank Bridge; White Joyful Springtime Lasteth— You/I; Mr. Wonderful —Crudds; The Nightingale— Wee/kes; The Silver Swan—Orlando Gibbons; Where the Bee sucks —Johnson; Prayer of St. Francis of Assissi —Arthur Bliss; Yes, Sir, that's my Baby!; The Wedding Ring—Geoffrey Russell-Smith.

48