Midlife is a new compilation album from Blur, with music from 'Leisure', their debut album released in 1991, to their last, 'Think Tank', released in 2003, with five others in between. Originally formed in 1989, they are an alternative rock band that helped to popularise the Britpop genre. They also had a famous rivalry with Oasis, called 'The Battle of Britpop'.
However, in 2003 the band split up, with guitarist, Graham Coxen, following a solo career, singer, Damon Albarn, writing and performing in the band 'Gorillaz', and bassist, Alex James, becoming a cheese farmer. But in July, they will reunite to perform in Hyde Park and after the tickets sold out in less than two minutes, announcements were made of an extra show, with promises of even more performances in the future. So it's probably no coincidence that this album has been released less than a month before the shows.
Blur have already released a compilation album in 2000, titled 'Blur: The Best Of', which featured many of the band's singles. However, this new one is made up of more than just the singles, containing some of the songs that Blur's biggest fans, and even the band itself, would call their favourites.
Although it contains some of their biggest and most famous hits, such as 'Song 2', 'Girls and Boys', and 'Parklife', it also has some less well known (but just as good) songs, for example, 'This Is A Low', and 'Trimm Trabb', which you wouldn't have heard if you have only listened to Blur on the radio.
Even though this compilation was made to show off some of the bands lesser known work, it was a big surprise to find that it does not include 'Country House', one of their biggest hits, which went into direct competition with Oasis's 'Roll With It' when both singles were released on the same day. 'Country House' got 58,000 more sales than 'Roll With It'.
If you already have all of the Blur albums, apart from 'Popscene', which has previously never been released on an album, there won’t really be anything new for you. However, if you are new to Blur, but can't afford to buy all of their albums, this compilation CD, with 25 songs over two discs will give you a good idea of what Blur were, or maybe still are, all about.
Daniel Garlick
Monday 29 June 2009
New Bacon's College Leadership Team
The New Bacon’s College Leadership Team
Head Girl: Lauren Scoltock
Head Boy: Daniel Antwi
Deputy Head Girl: Olive Mackintosh-Lowe
Deputy Head Boy: Joey McEwan
Leadership Team:
Chloe Holdforth- In Charge of Arts and Design
Banah Rashid and Jusna Khanum- Relations with year 11
Daniel Rands- Performance and Charity Appeals
Arnob Shahriah and Frederick Heath-Renn- Gifted and Talented
Abbey Chapman- Mediation
As some of you may know, the new Leadership Team has been decided. Lauren Scoltock has been chosen as Head Girl and Daniel Antwi as Head Boy. The deputies are Olive Mackintosh and Joey McEwan. For the first time in Bacon’s history, the Head Boy is an external student. In his speech to the Sixth Form Daniel spoke about how surprised he was to be picked Head Boy, “It came as a surprise to me, but I was told I was the right person for the job… its an honour”.
Lauren also expressed her delight at being given the role of Head Girl, “I couldn’t stop smiling… it feels good to know that I am trusted to represent the interests of my friends and peers”.
Head Girl: Lauren Scoltock
Head Boy: Daniel Antwi
Deputy Head Girl: Olive Mackintosh-Lowe
Deputy Head Boy: Joey McEwan
Leadership Team:
Chloe Holdforth- In Charge of Arts and Design
Banah Rashid and Jusna Khanum- Relations with year 11
Daniel Rands- Performance and Charity Appeals
Arnob Shahriah and Frederick Heath-Renn- Gifted and Talented
Abbey Chapman- Mediation
As some of you may know, the new Leadership Team has been decided. Lauren Scoltock has been chosen as Head Girl and Daniel Antwi as Head Boy. The deputies are Olive Mackintosh and Joey McEwan. For the first time in Bacon’s history, the Head Boy is an external student. In his speech to the Sixth Form Daniel spoke about how surprised he was to be picked Head Boy, “It came as a surprise to me, but I was told I was the right person for the job… its an honour”.
Lauren also expressed her delight at being given the role of Head Girl, “I couldn’t stop smiling… it feels good to know that I am trusted to represent the interests of my friends and peers”.
Finally! A Briton Wins Queen
FINALLY!
After 70 years of waiting Briton finally has a Queens champion.
Andy Murray has won the AEGON championship in an impressive manner, as he dispatched of American opponent James Blake in straight sets.
The match began with both players delivering solid serves, as they both showed why they deserved to be at the final stage of the tournament. Blake began impressively as he struck with purpose, this left many English fans wondering whether the British no.1 could handle the pressure. But Murray showed just why he is the British no.1 as he displayed exquisite manipulation of the ball, which allowed him to take an early lead.
However the encounter was not over as Blake more than held he’s own against the Scot and eventually took the lead. The American continued with powerful shot after powerful shot and he seemed the better of the two at the time. Murray was clearly facing his biggest challenge of the tournament so far.
Murray managed to make it 5-5 and he finally gained some composure over the match. The pressure intensified and a number of gruelling rallies started to take their toll on Blake as errors started appearing in his game. With Blake making a number of errors Murray had the chance to serve out the set and he did so, taking the set 7-5.
The second set began in a similar fashion to the first as both players were holding their serve. At 2-2 Murray broke going 0-30 up but a combination of the American’s power and the Scot’s own errors lead to the chance quickly vanishing. The two both tried to push on the other’s serve, but it was Murray that once again did that little bit extra to claim the breakthrough at 3-3. At 5-4 Murray made no mistake of delivering the final blow as he won the set 6-4. This was the first time that a Briton had won the title since 1938 and it raised the question can Murray win Wimbledon?
After 70 years of waiting Briton finally has a Queens champion.
Andy Murray has won the AEGON championship in an impressive manner, as he dispatched of American opponent James Blake in straight sets.
The match began with both players delivering solid serves, as they both showed why they deserved to be at the final stage of the tournament. Blake began impressively as he struck with purpose, this left many English fans wondering whether the British no.1 could handle the pressure. But Murray showed just why he is the British no.1 as he displayed exquisite manipulation of the ball, which allowed him to take an early lead.
However the encounter was not over as Blake more than held he’s own against the Scot and eventually took the lead. The American continued with powerful shot after powerful shot and he seemed the better of the two at the time. Murray was clearly facing his biggest challenge of the tournament so far.
Murray managed to make it 5-5 and he finally gained some composure over the match. The pressure intensified and a number of gruelling rallies started to take their toll on Blake as errors started appearing in his game. With Blake making a number of errors Murray had the chance to serve out the set and he did so, taking the set 7-5.
The second set began in a similar fashion to the first as both players were holding their serve. At 2-2 Murray broke going 0-30 up but a combination of the American’s power and the Scot’s own errors lead to the chance quickly vanishing. The two both tried to push on the other’s serve, but it was Murray that once again did that little bit extra to claim the breakthrough at 3-3. At 5-4 Murray made no mistake of delivering the final blow as he won the set 6-4. This was the first time that a Briton had won the title since 1938 and it raised the question can Murray win Wimbledon?
Pastel Romance
Think Wuthering Heights meets Pride and Prejudice but with a modern twist. Think preppy, polished, voluptuous sleeves and delicate frills. Think candy-floss pinks and blues. Think romance. This summer there is one trend that captures all of these perfectly. Full of romance and luxury, ‘tis the season to be gorgeous.
Take British designer Luella as your main source of inspiration this season with her collections showing a more fresh and airy look for this summer. It is filled with candy pinks, vibrant oranges, sultry lilacs and fresh creams o indulge yourself in fantasy. Most of her pieces contain frills or bows attached to complete this cute and summery look.
Primark does really good imitations of Luella’s spring/summer collection for a good price. Items such as floral shirts and light and airy pastel coloured dresses from around £9.00. From a recent shopping trip I came home with more bargains then I expected for this trend; a cream coloured dress, a collection of white, coral, and pearled jewellery, white bowed shoes and a bright pink chain-bag. And all for the delectable price of £25.
Topshop also does this well, with the store having pretty pastels scattered around the store. The high street has done well with this trend, welcoming it and doing it justice, so saunter down to Oxford Street now!
Gordon to Brown
Sarah to Brown
Love from Tony!Up to Down
Gordon to Down
Down to Brown
Gordon to Brown
Brown to Down
Down to Brown
Gordon to Drown
Gordon to Brown
Gordon Brown is goin’ down
Sarah to Brown
Love from Tony!Up to Down
Gordon to Down
Down to Brown
Gordon to Brown
Brown to Down
Down to Brown
Gordon to Drown
Gordon to Brown
Gordon Brown is goin’ down
The Queen is very posh
The Queen eats lots and lots The Queen is kind of nice
And she NEVER looks at the price The Queen, I think, is lean
And also kind of mean The Queen is quite long-winded
And……I can’t think of a rhyme
So on that line I've ended
The Civil War by Eren Gul
The Civil War
There is nothing civil about war.
War……….war doesn’t change, but men do.
On a tired battlefield an ex-military serviceman who has seen enough bloodshed to last him several lifetimes again finds himself in the middle of a conflict, not knowing quite where it will take him. His extensive skills are no match to the new recruits he is sitting next to on the truck. They are currently being transported to the frontlines of the raging battle between the divided brothers of East and West. Our merc, David, looks around for a second to examine the battleground and execute his orders to perfection like he has done many times before. He only takes a few seconds to do this, but it seems as though it is in slow motion and taking minutes, but he knows very well that spending a second longer than what you need, to do something can result in death.
They arrive at the frontline and dismount. They are greeted by bullets and haze. No wonder why nothing good ever came from war, he hears grown men screaming in pain, and crying for help, but its nothing that he hasn’t come across before. He presses on to a point where he and a fellow soldier are pinned down behind a wall by heavy gunfire. The soldier beside him is young, in his 20’s maybe, 25 at the most, but the main thing that separates these two men from each other isn’t their experience on the battlefield; but their reasons for being there. The young man has lost all his family when opposing soldiers came in the middle of the night to his small village and killed everyone but him; he survived just barely with gun shot wounds to the shoulder and legs. But that night the young man lost everything, his mum, his dad, his younger sisters. The soldiers of the West burnt down his whole village, by the time he came to and was able to walk, there was not a single sign to show that his village once existed, everything was burnt, shattered and broken leaving behind smolders and rubble. The young man collapsed at the sight of just horror and devastation, he felt powerless and so a sense of guilt overwhelmed him, and from that day on, he vowed to himself that until he draws his last breath on this world, he will fight to regain his honor and avenge the deaths of his loved ones.
There next to our merc, sat a changed man, a young man who has nothing left to lose, and so with that in mind the soldier leapt from his seat, lifted his gun and fired away, our merc had never seen such a thing in his life, even under tremendous amount of fire the soldier killed 3 of the opposing militants and was not hurt himself, it was like he was being shielded from all the hurt and pain because he had a personal reason for being there, one that he believed in. The merc stood still in despair, while the soldier ran across the battlefield while under fire to another wall, bullets hitting the floor and raising the dust, despite all that he made it and signaled the merc to follow while he provided covering fire. The merc made it one piece. They both now stood side by side looking at the enemy dead in the face, thinking that they will be victorious, but there are no winners in war, only losers, and war doesn’t determine who is right, but only determines who is left. The young soldier had shown great courage under fire, he turned to out merc and said “wow that was lucky.” To which David replied “there is no such thing as luck on the battlefield, only those who have and show great skill and those who die.”
Now it was time for our merc to lead and show the novice how combat is supposed to be undertaken, he was on point and gave the signal to follow. The two men supported other fighters to run the rest of the scattered enemy infantry out of that area, but it was pure mayhem, and chaos. It was every man for himself, as all the soldiers of the East move on through the area they encountered pockets of resistance, but they have received some casualties. Finally they had achieved what they wanted and drived all the enemy out of the area, big cheers, shouts and songs of joy followed as they all started to relax a little, but this was short lived, because suddenly mortar strikes were inbound, shells were hitting the floor all around them creating clouds of dust, blood and death. They soon realized that the enemy had withdrawn not because they were retreating, but to gain a strategical advantage by getting them into the vulnerable open. Their location had been zeroed; the mortar shells landed with deadly accuracy, everybody ducked and ran for cover. Again more ear deathening explosions and screams of soldiers were being heard by our merc, he and the young soldier were also exposed, and they were headed for some cover when the screeching sound of a mortar shell slicing through the air came closer and closer. And BANG! A mortar round had landed near them; the impact was so bad that the smoke did not go away for a minute. When the smoke lifted there was no sign of either of them, could it be? Has the legendary merc finally been killed on a battlefield he spent most of his life on? But a rugged figure in the distance rose from the floor………it was the young soldier, he stumbled over to the place where the merc lay, his ears ringing from the explosion and his body shaking from the blast that sent him flying. He again found himself on his knees, feeling powerless; the merc had severe injuries to his whole right side, half his face was burnt to an extreme state, his torso ripped apart from the shrapnel, his right arm and leg cut and blood everywhere. His last words were “listen kid……create your own luck on any battlefield, fight for what you believe in.” the soldier was in such a state that he could not reply, he just shook his head in agreement, still while this is going on around them more shells are exploding, and finally the merc says “go!” and the young soldier has no other choice but to leave the merc to his inevitable fate. Amongst all that anarchy, the merc lay feeling cold and in a solitary state. He contemplates if this was all worth it, well…….was it worth it? The whole point of life is to live it for yourself, to teach the next generation right from wrong and to leave behind a legacy, your legacy. He had wasted nearly his entire life fighting, and all for what?
I know the story of that lone merc, because once a great man told me to fight for what I believe in and so I am, I’m putting up a fight in another battle, but this battle is called life.
War……….war doesn’t change, but men do.
By Eren Gul
There is nothing civil about war.
War……….war doesn’t change, but men do.
On a tired battlefield an ex-military serviceman who has seen enough bloodshed to last him several lifetimes again finds himself in the middle of a conflict, not knowing quite where it will take him. His extensive skills are no match to the new recruits he is sitting next to on the truck. They are currently being transported to the frontlines of the raging battle between the divided brothers of East and West. Our merc, David, looks around for a second to examine the battleground and execute his orders to perfection like he has done many times before. He only takes a few seconds to do this, but it seems as though it is in slow motion and taking minutes, but he knows very well that spending a second longer than what you need, to do something can result in death.
They arrive at the frontline and dismount. They are greeted by bullets and haze. No wonder why nothing good ever came from war, he hears grown men screaming in pain, and crying for help, but its nothing that he hasn’t come across before. He presses on to a point where he and a fellow soldier are pinned down behind a wall by heavy gunfire. The soldier beside him is young, in his 20’s maybe, 25 at the most, but the main thing that separates these two men from each other isn’t their experience on the battlefield; but their reasons for being there. The young man has lost all his family when opposing soldiers came in the middle of the night to his small village and killed everyone but him; he survived just barely with gun shot wounds to the shoulder and legs. But that night the young man lost everything, his mum, his dad, his younger sisters. The soldiers of the West burnt down his whole village, by the time he came to and was able to walk, there was not a single sign to show that his village once existed, everything was burnt, shattered and broken leaving behind smolders and rubble. The young man collapsed at the sight of just horror and devastation, he felt powerless and so a sense of guilt overwhelmed him, and from that day on, he vowed to himself that until he draws his last breath on this world, he will fight to regain his honor and avenge the deaths of his loved ones.
There next to our merc, sat a changed man, a young man who has nothing left to lose, and so with that in mind the soldier leapt from his seat, lifted his gun and fired away, our merc had never seen such a thing in his life, even under tremendous amount of fire the soldier killed 3 of the opposing militants and was not hurt himself, it was like he was being shielded from all the hurt and pain because he had a personal reason for being there, one that he believed in. The merc stood still in despair, while the soldier ran across the battlefield while under fire to another wall, bullets hitting the floor and raising the dust, despite all that he made it and signaled the merc to follow while he provided covering fire. The merc made it one piece. They both now stood side by side looking at the enemy dead in the face, thinking that they will be victorious, but there are no winners in war, only losers, and war doesn’t determine who is right, but only determines who is left. The young soldier had shown great courage under fire, he turned to out merc and said “wow that was lucky.” To which David replied “there is no such thing as luck on the battlefield, only those who have and show great skill and those who die.”
Now it was time for our merc to lead and show the novice how combat is supposed to be undertaken, he was on point and gave the signal to follow. The two men supported other fighters to run the rest of the scattered enemy infantry out of that area, but it was pure mayhem, and chaos. It was every man for himself, as all the soldiers of the East move on through the area they encountered pockets of resistance, but they have received some casualties. Finally they had achieved what they wanted and drived all the enemy out of the area, big cheers, shouts and songs of joy followed as they all started to relax a little, but this was short lived, because suddenly mortar strikes were inbound, shells were hitting the floor all around them creating clouds of dust, blood and death. They soon realized that the enemy had withdrawn not because they were retreating, but to gain a strategical advantage by getting them into the vulnerable open. Their location had been zeroed; the mortar shells landed with deadly accuracy, everybody ducked and ran for cover. Again more ear deathening explosions and screams of soldiers were being heard by our merc, he and the young soldier were also exposed, and they were headed for some cover when the screeching sound of a mortar shell slicing through the air came closer and closer. And BANG! A mortar round had landed near them; the impact was so bad that the smoke did not go away for a minute. When the smoke lifted there was no sign of either of them, could it be? Has the legendary merc finally been killed on a battlefield he spent most of his life on? But a rugged figure in the distance rose from the floor………it was the young soldier, he stumbled over to the place where the merc lay, his ears ringing from the explosion and his body shaking from the blast that sent him flying. He again found himself on his knees, feeling powerless; the merc had severe injuries to his whole right side, half his face was burnt to an extreme state, his torso ripped apart from the shrapnel, his right arm and leg cut and blood everywhere. His last words were “listen kid……create your own luck on any battlefield, fight for what you believe in.” the soldier was in such a state that he could not reply, he just shook his head in agreement, still while this is going on around them more shells are exploding, and finally the merc says “go!” and the young soldier has no other choice but to leave the merc to his inevitable fate. Amongst all that anarchy, the merc lay feeling cold and in a solitary state. He contemplates if this was all worth it, well…….was it worth it? The whole point of life is to live it for yourself, to teach the next generation right from wrong and to leave behind a legacy, your legacy. He had wasted nearly his entire life fighting, and all for what?
I know the story of that lone merc, because once a great man told me to fight for what I believe in and so I am, I’m putting up a fight in another battle, but this battle is called life.
War……….war doesn’t change, but men do.
By Eren Gul
Monday 22 June 2009
The Government - Chloe Kirk
The government
Are very trustworthy
Honest!
No idea why people pick on them
No idea why they’re all angry
Labour sits in his office
Stumped
He’s come fifth
A minority group
While Conservative dances all night
Labour growls
Greasy Mr Conservative
Dances all night
Are very trustworthy
Honest!
No idea why people pick on them
No idea why they’re all angry
Labour sits in his office
Stumped
He’s come fifth
A minority group
While Conservative dances all night
Labour growls
Greasy Mr Conservative
Dances all night
Give Me a Bowl - Chloe Kirk
Give me a bowl
Pure water
Made of glass
Lapping at the edges
Sparkling
Pretty light
Plays on its surface
Give me a bowl
Pure water
Made from glass
The world is made of bowls
Pure water
Made of glass
Lapping at the edges
Sparkling
Pretty light
Plays on its surface
Give me a bowl
Pure water
Made from glass
The world is made of bowls
A Long Piece of Rope - Chloe Kirk
A long piece of rope
Climbs from the sky
To the ground
Grinning
And it slips
Falling into the sky
Through the clouds
And from view.
Clutch at the grass
I don’t want to fall into the sky too
Climbs from the sky
To the ground
Grinning
And it slips
Falling into the sky
Through the clouds
And from view.
Clutch at the grass
I don’t want to fall into the sky too
Monday 27 April 2009
New Short Story - The War Copy
The war, 1944. The blitz. The bombs are falling, London lies in ruin and smoke pours through every street. A girl rushes past, fourteen or so, and fear is written on her face, she clutches the hand of a sandy haired four year old, he tugs a teddy behind him. She pulls him forwards, whispering in his ear that every thing will be okay when her face clearly suggests otherwise.
They take a sharp turn and come into a narrow alleyway, and then out and up a steep slope. They stop at the top and gasp for breath. The scruffy teddy slips from the boy’s hands and then down the slope and back into the dark, eerie alleyway. With a cry of despair, the small boy runs down the slope and into the darkness.
“ALFIE!” the young girl shrieks, “Alfie, NO!”
And then the small boy appears, smiling. He holds up the teddy.
“ Found Mr Ted. Loo-”
And then he disappears in the reds and oranges and noise. The explosion obliterates him. The girl runs forwards and searches for the teddy. When she finds it, she sits cross-legged on the street, and allows the tears to stream down her face, her dark eyes empty.
London, 2008. Southwark.
Charlie decided that archaeology was dull work, no matter how hard his dad tried to interest him, he remained unconvinced, he had gone on work shops and countless digs with his dad since the age of five, he was eleven now and he hadn’t found a single treasure, he glared at the hole that cost him sweat and hard work. And then he saw something dirty and matted-looking, half covered with soil. He lent down and pulled out the object: it was a very scruffy teddy. He had found something! He went round the house to find his thirteen year old sister sitting on the pavement eating her breakfast. Obviously she had had one of her many arguments with mum and dad, they were always arguing.
He showed her the teddy and saw that she seemed unusually interested so he smiled smugly.
“Wow!” she exclaimed, un-noticing of his smug face, “can’t believe you finally found something, from the war! And there I was thinking you’d disappoint dad!” she pointed at a tag that he hadn’t noticed before:
He raced to his room. HE HAD A REAL WAR ARTEFACT! He gave it place of honour on his TV.
That night, with thoughts of his artefact and suchlike, he wriggled down in his bed, smiling. Until he saw the figure sitting on the end of his bed, she was translucent and ghostly. She turned her head to look at him,
“Alfie?” she asked in a whisper, she lent over to touch him but disappeared just seconds before she made conact.
In the morning, the first he did was to throw the blasted, haunted teddy out. But when he opened the door to go to bed the teddy was there again, staring at him with those same empty plastic eyes… he threw it out of the window and finally nodded off. But then, in the middle of the night, he woke up again to see the ghost sitting on the end of the bed, she lent over and her mouth formed the same words as the night before: Alfie? But no sound came out, he recoiled and again she disappeared. When he looked in the morning, he saw the teddy was back, but this time he was on a pile of books next to the TV…
These nightly visits became part of his routine and he almost felt worried when the girl was late, but there was this thing that made him just slightly uneasy; each night, the teddy seemed to come slightly closer to his bed, he told himself that he was imagining things and he just put the teddy back firmly to the top of the TV where it belonged but still…
One night though, it was different. He woke up, as expected, at midnight but the lady was not yet there, his eyes darted to his wardrobe where the teddy had been the last night but it was not there, it was on his bedside cabinet. He put it back firmly on the TV and decided to read until the lady came. When she did though, she seemed much more real. She lent over, as always, but she didn’t stop, her hand was millimetres away from his cheek and still coming closer, she wasn’t going to stop… but then she disappeared, he heaved a sigh of relief and turned over, but this was a mistake, the teddy was inches away from his face… it’s paw rose… and it touched him.
There was nothing but darkness, until the alleyway came into focus. An alleyway, at least, that’s what it seemed to be. Two figures ran past him: a teenager and her little brother, just like the one who had brought him here. A few minutes later he heard a voice above the many bangs that were happening around the place:
“ALFIE! NO!”
The boy had run back down but he hadn’t seemed to notice Charlie.
He picked up something and then disappeared to the other side of the alleyway again.
“Found Mr Ted. Loo-”
It was then that the world exploded.
When Charlie’s dad came to bury the hole that he and Charlie had dug a few weeks ago he found a pile of bones wearing Charlie’s pyjamas…
By Chloe Kirk
They take a sharp turn and come into a narrow alleyway, and then out and up a steep slope. They stop at the top and gasp for breath. The scruffy teddy slips from the boy’s hands and then down the slope and back into the dark, eerie alleyway. With a cry of despair, the small boy runs down the slope and into the darkness.
“ALFIE!” the young girl shrieks, “Alfie, NO!”
And then the small boy appears, smiling. He holds up the teddy.
“ Found Mr Ted. Loo-”
And then he disappears in the reds and oranges and noise. The explosion obliterates him. The girl runs forwards and searches for the teddy. When she finds it, she sits cross-legged on the street, and allows the tears to stream down her face, her dark eyes empty.
London, 2008. Southwark.
Charlie decided that archaeology was dull work, no matter how hard his dad tried to interest him, he remained unconvinced, he had gone on work shops and countless digs with his dad since the age of five, he was eleven now and he hadn’t found a single treasure, he glared at the hole that cost him sweat and hard work. And then he saw something dirty and matted-looking, half covered with soil. He lent down and pulled out the object: it was a very scruffy teddy. He had found something! He went round the house to find his thirteen year old sister sitting on the pavement eating her breakfast. Obviously she had had one of her many arguments with mum and dad, they were always arguing.
He showed her the teddy and saw that she seemed unusually interested so he smiled smugly.
“Wow!” she exclaimed, un-noticing of his smug face, “can’t believe you finally found something, from the war! And there I was thinking you’d disappoint dad!” she pointed at a tag that he hadn’t noticed before:
He raced to his room. HE HAD A REAL WAR ARTEFACT! He gave it place of honour on his TV.
That night, with thoughts of his artefact and suchlike, he wriggled down in his bed, smiling. Until he saw the figure sitting on the end of his bed, she was translucent and ghostly. She turned her head to look at him,
“Alfie?” she asked in a whisper, she lent over to touch him but disappeared just seconds before she made conact.
In the morning, the first he did was to throw the blasted, haunted teddy out. But when he opened the door to go to bed the teddy was there again, staring at him with those same empty plastic eyes… he threw it out of the window and finally nodded off. But then, in the middle of the night, he woke up again to see the ghost sitting on the end of the bed, she lent over and her mouth formed the same words as the night before: Alfie? But no sound came out, he recoiled and again she disappeared. When he looked in the morning, he saw the teddy was back, but this time he was on a pile of books next to the TV…
These nightly visits became part of his routine and he almost felt worried when the girl was late, but there was this thing that made him just slightly uneasy; each night, the teddy seemed to come slightly closer to his bed, he told himself that he was imagining things and he just put the teddy back firmly to the top of the TV where it belonged but still…
One night though, it was different. He woke up, as expected, at midnight but the lady was not yet there, his eyes darted to his wardrobe where the teddy had been the last night but it was not there, it was on his bedside cabinet. He put it back firmly on the TV and decided to read until the lady came. When she did though, she seemed much more real. She lent over, as always, but she didn’t stop, her hand was millimetres away from his cheek and still coming closer, she wasn’t going to stop… but then she disappeared, he heaved a sigh of relief and turned over, but this was a mistake, the teddy was inches away from his face… it’s paw rose… and it touched him.
There was nothing but darkness, until the alleyway came into focus. An alleyway, at least, that’s what it seemed to be. Two figures ran past him: a teenager and her little brother, just like the one who had brought him here. A few minutes later he heard a voice above the many bangs that were happening around the place:
“ALFIE! NO!”
The boy had run back down but he hadn’t seemed to notice Charlie.
He picked up something and then disappeared to the other side of the alleyway again.
“Found Mr Ted. Loo-”
It was then that the world exploded.
When Charlie’s dad came to bury the hole that he and Charlie had dug a few weeks ago he found a pile of bones wearing Charlie’s pyjamas…
By Chloe Kirk
New Poetry - The Warming Symptoms of Sunburn
A rosy Friday afternoon,
Like the glowing symptoms of sunburn.
Excited I reach for a loyal hair band, lip balm,
Your present in crinkled brown paper. Quickly,
Smiling I shut the door – a dull slam,
Yellowing light of the retiring week.
I gain the pavement – steep, unkempt.
On past a place of painfully cheery past times,
All of which you witnessed, none of which you saw.
The clutter and bunching of leafy park trees
Pressing on against the sturdy iron railings
While giving structure, keeping order
They never keep the chubby children
From the relish of the tarmac playground.
Around the round about now, impatiently I shuffle
Through track after track – bored of inner chattering monologue
I anticipate ours.
The penultimate house – still square, still solid
But not yours
The creamy green of two glossy doors
The memory of a great tree stretching to the sky in previous years
Now merged in my mind
– Gone now the giant still holds a presence.
The rubber round button against my finger tip, patiently
I pause – you, always late but always there:
“Tea?”
By Olive Mackintosh
Like the glowing symptoms of sunburn.
Excited I reach for a loyal hair band, lip balm,
Your present in crinkled brown paper. Quickly,
Smiling I shut the door – a dull slam,
Yellowing light of the retiring week.
I gain the pavement – steep, unkempt.
On past a place of painfully cheery past times,
All of which you witnessed, none of which you saw.
The clutter and bunching of leafy park trees
Pressing on against the sturdy iron railings
While giving structure, keeping order
They never keep the chubby children
From the relish of the tarmac playground.
Around the round about now, impatiently I shuffle
Through track after track – bored of inner chattering monologue
I anticipate ours.
The penultimate house – still square, still solid
But not yours
The creamy green of two glossy doors
The memory of a great tree stretching to the sky in previous years
Now merged in my mind
– Gone now the giant still holds a presence.
The rubber round button against my finger tip, patiently
I pause – you, always late but always there:
“Tea?”
By Olive Mackintosh
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