I left the school of yesterday’s post for various reasons and moved to a mixed boarding school, where I really began to develop my own horrible, horrible style as a writer. I became a bit more casual in my style of writing, so if there’s a word that’s even slightly onomatopoeic, just presume it is surrounded by some illustration of that.
11th September 1998
My life as a seed and tree
Once I was a tiny seed, I was a holly seed. I was red, a lovely red. I was picked up of the ground and I heard a girl say, “Mummy can I plant this seed”, I heard another, “OK if you really want.”
At last the day I was waiting for!!!
Well in the end I had to wait 2 weeks. After that I was so exited I could !BURST! I heard a voice “Mummy I’m gonna plant it now”. [Ed: Nice use of “gonna” to add a touch of realism to the girl’s speech.] I was dropped in the soil, lovely.
After five years I was already huge. At Christmas weirdly I was decorated with tinsel but it was lovely.
I grew more, More, MORE. When I was 15 I was the biggest tree in the garden, but sadly I drooped low and dull. I was green all year round but that didn’t make me feel any better.
Year after year after year after year went by, I just drooped more and more.
I had a boring life and there was no-way it was fun.
One day there was a horrid storm the lightning screamed, the thunder shouted, Flashes [Ed: surrounded by lines to suggest a flash, a nice touch] !BOOM’S! everywhere I got struck by lightning. The next morning I, I…
The implication at this point, if you weren’t sure, is that I died as I wrote. Nothing further needs to be said.
The next poem, which acts as a sort of climax for horrible plant poems was written for a Grandmothers day, when our grandmothers all came in and listened to our poems. Pretty much everyone else wrote nice ones, except me. Still, the teacher wrote “Superb!” and I had no shame. It’s about a nettle.
Mister Nasty thats my name,
Mister Nasty thats my game.
I see all the children running past me,
I stick out my leg and sting them as much as can be,
I’m tall and green I’m sure you’ve seen me.
Whenever I see a little pink flower
I thceem and thceem until I make mythelf thick. [Ed: I was thinking of Violet Elizabeth Bott from Just William here. So post-modern.]
My best friend’s the thistle as the dead nettle won’t sting.
I have a mean purple
They have a goody-goody white.
Animals hide under me I give them a sting.
I’m gorgeous, I’m a dream but nobody believes me.
What ho? oh no! they have got the spray
Please Please don’t spray me away,
I beg you, going, going gone and I’m dead
8th October 1998
The Perculiar Ring
“If only someone would help me” she said. It was then that she noticed the peculiar ring on the ground. Immediately she put the ring on and blew off all the dust. As soon as she did this her head swelled like there was no tomorrow, Her eyes grew thin and yellow and then shrank. Then she shrunk to the size of an aphid. She grew again, her head was its normal size. Everything was normal but her eyes.
She ran to school. “Oh no I can’t get the ring off” she said. She ran on to her class room. She was early. After Assembly was the test. These were the words they were supposed to learn:
These are the answers she had: [Ed: At this point, I whipped out my dictionary and found words I didn’t understand that began with the same letters. I am super smug that I now know all these words, oh yeah]
[Ed: the above Xs mark crosses next to her wrong answers, obviously. The test is also marked with a big F- crossed out and replaced with a G- in a big circle]
These aren’t the right words!! Bad work!
Celina (for that was her name) used Infra-Red [Ed: the word is outlined with a zig-zag line] beams from her thin yellow eyes and froze every one in the room including Miss Mork (that was the teacher) then melted Miss Mork. Celina didn’t want to, “The ring is still stuck on my finger” she thought. She ran home even though it wasn’t the right time. Her eyes did something to her test so now her mark was
Her Mum was there when she got home. She didn’t work you see. Celina wished she was ill so she didn’t need to go to school. 10 seconds later she had the measles. She knocked on the door. Her Mum quickly opened the door, she quickly took Celina inside, she quickly pushed a thermometer into her mouth. This was her temperature: 43°C. Her Mum rushed her to the Hospital. Her head started throbbing, her ears hurt, her eyes went red and became infected. Then she fainted, she had a dream about being normal. Meanwhile, at school the class had crowded around Miss Morks puddle.
When Celina woke she was having an injection. She wished she was having a normal life without that stupid ring. A second later she was back where she was before she found the ring. After assembly was the test. Her paper did not have
on it it had…
I think that’s probably the trippiest of my stories, but they continue in this fairly bizarre and horrid way.
Next up it’s another poem. I think we’d been learning about similes, so we were all trying to show off by thinking of weird things to imagine. As far as my poems go, this is pretty average until we get to taste, when I clearly had no idea what to write and so shoved in the first thing that came into my head.
5th November 1998
Fear is a pale, silvery blue,
it makes me shiver inside.
It is sloppy and watery,
it slurps through my fingers and down to teh ground.
It sounds like a ghost howling,
howling through the night,
It tastes like a big, big mouldy sausage.
It smells like sweat,
disgusting thick sweat.
Its shapless body gobbles people to fear.
I met fear this morning when a tiger prowled by
I wish, oh I wish it would go away.
Pretty sure there weren’t that many tigers in Berkshire.
The next story was written after we’d learnt about hurricanes in possibly Geography. All the details of what each character does are taken from a discussion filled with “facts” around the class, where people shared information they “knew” from watching telly, etc.
12 November 1998
The day the hurricane came
I was at school, just after lunch when strangely a tree fell down, the lights went out. Everyone looked out the window there was a swirl of some kind and as it got closer somebody screamed “a hurricane” [Ed: not sure I actually knew what a hurricane was.] Mrs Hyde took the mirrors down and told us to hide under our desks She hid the T.V. then she hid like us. I was near the window I saw the caretaker atchully get thrown out of the hurricane. I prayed “God please keep us alive”. But the rumbling got louder and louder I then felt pain, deep pain. I called to Clarissa my best friend she called back, there was so much noise I thought I’d become deaf. I got up from my lieing position and I sat there shivering. I got cold and scared, a tree fell down by an inch it missed the school. Mrs Hyde turned the mirror tray upside down. We all were screaming. Jerry died of fright, so he didn’t have to cope with what was coming up. The hurricane was close. When it got here the whole school fell I’m now in hospital. So please come and visit me.
The boy is wearing an action man tshirt.
14 January 1999
As if I’d believe that!
“One New Year’s Eve I met the tooth fairy”. I said. Everyone thought I was lying. I mean I don’t blame them but its true. “How can we beleive you, you’r allways lying”. Then it was time for the class photo.
I hate school photo’s [Ed: Such bad grammar, sob.]. I usually look as if I’m asleep. Eventually it was over. Immediatly my tooth fell out. “Yes” I whispered. When it was bedtime I put my tooth in my pyjama pocket. I stayed away until midnight then a little blue light appeared no bigger than my thum then a red light.
“You have seen us you must come with us”.
“Tough” I wispered. I climed out of my bed. When I touched the ground I shrunk. The fairys picked me up. I turned into a fairy. I was Beautiful with a capital b. I was taken to fairy land where the sat me down on a block of wood. “You” I yelled. The block split in two. “AAAAAGH” I hit the bottom “Oof”. I couldn’t die, nobody does in fairy land. I’m still waiting to be taken out. I waited ages just looking up at the top. Suddenly I noticed a door way… I ran towards it, it had a dead end but therew as a bottle of I think poison. I wanted it. In fact I’m drinking it at the mo…
The pencil streaks off to the side during that final word, as if I’m actually dying while I write it. I am so imaginative! I remember writing this one, I stopped with “I’m still waiting to be taken out” but then decided that I could use this as an opportunity to use my clever dying-as-I-write technique that I was clearly working on so just added a bit more on the end.
The next one was meant to be a story where we were taught the ins and outs of using speech marks and how to write dialogue in stories. So, it’s a bit dialogue heavy with no real storyline. Enjoy.
The Victorian Disaster
“Good-morning, er my names, Vera I work for the Queen Victoria, It is er lovely to be aquainted with you. Excuse me m’ladys calling me. Oh please I really want to go home, to see mother and my five sisters and six brothers. Good-bye I must leave you.
“Where is that wretched girl.”
“I’m sorry m’lady.”
“We are not amused.”
“About what m’lady.”
“That your always late.”
“I’m sorry m’lady I really am.”
“Why have I not been told its dinner yet.”
“It is ready m’lady.”
“Since Albert died its been hard to keep my temper.” [Ed: Nice little historical knowledge of her husband. Good work.]
“Oh m’lady I did not know.”
“Well, now you do so I would like you to be here before I call you.”
“Well, m’lady. Will you go down for dinner.”
“Yes I will.”
Phew she’s gone. Oh no, I can not stay here any longer. I’ve got to run away now! Hmm I had better pack… Good everythings packed now Goodbye room ….. It is good to be outside. Mother is always telling me to follow my nose. So I guess I’d better.. It is late oh look my home.. Nearly there now phew I’m here. Now to knock.. Oh mother, oh father your back. Hello Jack, Tom, Ben, Albert, oh I can not remember the other names. It is so nice to be with you again!
My teacher commented that she pretty much understood none of it, but she did like the conversation with Victoria, which I was pretty chuffed with.
Humans are clever I think, I think.
Some are not because they drink, they drink.
Some are ill, some are well.
Some stay up, others they fell,
Some are commen others they’re Royal,
Wich I think makes them terribly spoilt. [Ed: I was left wing even as a child]
I am happy some are not,
They haven’t even got…
Clothes, houses even,
Food or a clean drink,
Come on, come on
Get off your chair
So help them by sending some money.
I wish I knew the context in which this was written. I think it was probably just meant to be about humans generally, but I was such a dork that I took the opportunity to write about everything wrong with the world. I did a pretty good job.
A couple of the next stories are pretty standard fare for a child of my age, and actually not that bad. The next story, though, is where I really peak in my attitude of laziness towards writing. I tried to make it funny, so I wrote it all in an accent, but probably not the right accent for a Roman soldier.
A Roman Soldiers Diary
I ‘ate it ‘ere its all cold and ‘orrible. Luckily I’m not cleanin’ the loo because I’ve got a job at the lumbermill. Uh-Oh got to go, oh by the way I’m in Scotland… YUCK.
Time for bed. I’m the only one awake writin’ to you. It’s a shame ‘cos I’m only an auxilliary and my job is gone ‘cos I forgot to to make me masters spear. I ‘ave got to clean the loo tomorrow bit of a shame ‘cos um I can’t get a job wever its part time or not anywhere else!
I’m a !legionary! [Ed: underlined with a zig-zag for emphasis] Yahoo and I got a job as a job as a blacksmith but I got to clean the loo first. Oh and I’ve only got 15 more years to go till I leave.
(P.S. Yourr my only friend)
I fallen in love wif the emperors’s wife she is so pretty here she is
isnt she butiful I’m going on duty now . . . I’m ‘ere yuck its cold and wet and yuckky and … SPLAT yuck what was that ugh yuck bird splat uh oh theres a barbarian. Wheres my horn, wheres my horn ahh here now how do you work this. Oh I see BOOO, BOOOO.
(P.S. I’m still in love.)
Sorry I haven’t written to you for 2 years. But I have great news I’m not a centurian but an emperer. I’m married to Marrian (the ex-emperers wife). And I’m happy as can be except I want to go home. Wait a moment…
… I’m going home YES! OK lets go
I’m home at last oh happy day, oh happy day, I’m not going to need you anymore diary.
The stories continue to get more and more average after this I think. I’ve had a good rummage through our boxes of things from my childhood but can’t find the sequel to the last book, and so the conclusion to the final story is missing. The story itself is pretty boring, though it shows how remarkably out of touch I was with the real world. The only bit really worth reading is the introduction:
Our Trip around the world
It seemed like a normal day because we were going shopping but no it was not normal because we had won 100 thousand million pounds in the lottery. We were going to spend it by going shopping. I was very excited.
We decided to buy a mansion with 90 floors, a gold helicopter, a bronze launchpad, a privet jet, a privet cruiser, a submarine and 60 maids and butlers and we still had 90 thousand million pounds left. We decided to go on a trip around the world. That left us with 50 thousand million pounds.
It’s amazing that my friends who bought round-the-world plane trips for their gap years managed to raise 40 thousand million pounds to do so. I underestimated how hard they must have worked.
In my Dad’s TES (Times Educational Supplement, he’s a teacher) I was reading yesterday about the imagination of children:
The importance of the enchantment factor becomes clear in an example related by Russian poet Korney Chukovsky, who described a policy instituted by the Soviet government in the 1920s banning all fantasy form the education of children in favour of simple, realistic, factual stories.
One of the educators, curious about the effects of this ruling, began to keep a diary of her own child’s development and found that her son, as if to compensate for what he was being denied, began to make up his own fantasies. He had never heard a fairy tale, never heard a folktale, but talking tigers, birds, and bugs, as well as beautiful maidens, castles, and underground cities soon populated his imaginative world.
Chukovsky concluded: “Fantasy is the most valuable attribute of the human mind and should be diligently nurtured from earliest childhood.”
I can only hope my children have as horrible an imagination as I did.