Saltus Grammar School - Yearbook (Hamilton, Bermuda)

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Portrait: USA QUINN, Ser ior Year Laurel and Hardy — ALCIDES VATsI BEELEN 3R Gourmet Cook Hmm! This looks nice and easy , I said to myself. Yes, I ' ll make it. Reading the list of ingredients, I sought them out; sugar, soda .... What this? Salts; Oh well! I went to the cabinet in the bathroom and got the Epsom Salts. Next was chocolate, butter and then, flour. Well, that was easy. Out into the garden I tramped haughtily with my scissors and cut off a gorgeous daffodil. After this I began beating it with a spoon, and by Jove, it was a toughy. Checking everything, I put the cake in the oven; it was then that 1 came across a problem: you see, the cake Kon-Tiki It is on a bustling, busy street comer, with cars always whizzing by, paying scant attention to the small, seemingly derelict store. But when you walk in, you come out of the fast, noisy outside world, and enter a quiet, tranquil, peaceful refuge. When the old wooden door, which hangs dangerously on its hinges, eventually squeaks shut behind you, it takes several minutes for your blinking eyes to adjust to the indoor gloom. To your left is the little counter, a wooden, scarred bar, only about five feet long, tucked into an even darker alcove, piled high with all manner of things; from nets, to multicoloured gravel, tanks of all shapes and sizes, and assorted filters and heaters. The little Kon Tiki is a pet store, for fish. After you ' ve been looking around for a couple of fascinat- ing minutes, the owner slowly makes her way over to you and asks if you would like some assistance. She is a rather old lady, roughly fifty-five, maybe in her sixties, but there is not much she does not know about tropical fish! She has grey hair, and a wrinkled face, which is usually expressionless. Pottering around, she will tell you the names and habits of any of the wide range of fish, from huge, long fish, with pointy, malevolent-looking teeth, to tiny circular dots of incredibly coloured fish, which dart about like lea ves on a gusty autumn day. The whole store is a marvel of fascinating things. None of the dirty, grimy tanks are rteat, or specially arranged, but have leads from haphazardly placed heaters and filters which fill the room with strange buzzes, hums and bubbl- ings. In most tanks the gaping, exotic creatures can hide from peering shoppers, behind rocks and weed, thrown in, rather than placed, but in some there is just multicoloured gravel for decoration. The many-shaped fish tanks, which range from 5 to 50 gallons capacity, are arranged on shelves from the ceiling to floor, and each is a thrilling adventure. Some contain fish, which have so many waving fins, frills and other extraneous parts that they can barely move, or have white beady eyes, sticking out of their heads. Tucked away, hidden in corners one can find twenty gallon tanks of foot long Prope Fish , rust brown in colour, and an inch thick, twirling agilely around the filters and bubbling tubes. Low down, among other tanks, you may spy a few guppies, with tails so colourful, the rest of them seems boring, or tiny fluorescent fish, which jump out, if you hold food above the water. Once in this store you never wish to leave. As well as this amazing array of river life, the store offers much more. From the dark recesses of the room, or the strange attic, the store keeper can produce any item, no matter how strange: From a fish tank, to a net, a hood and light, filter carbon, gravel, back drop pictures for the tanks, food, and even electrical leads and plugs. However disorganised, messy and small it may seem, it has everything you need for a fish tank. Just before you leave the peaceful, bubbling sanctuary, with fish and new equip- ment under your arm, you might look back into the dark little store, with the decorative fish nets hanging from the ceiling and thousands of tiny watching eyes on all sides. You now have to leave the little store, hiding in a hollow in the cliff, and enter the outside world once more! John Paul Skinner S3H was to bake for 30 mins., but the oven was marked in hours, whatever they are. Eventually, I put it on 3 hours and waited. When the time had elapsed, I took it out and it fell into black crumbs. I managed to get them up, and I finally put some in my mouth and before I knew it, I was being sick in the bathroom. Take it from me, cooking is not as simple as it looks . . . . . . especially when you ' re only 4 years old. Christopher Bryan S2P

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The Fight The Law of the Wild: eat or be eaten. This was the law which prevailed over all animals in the frozen Northlands, especially the vwotves. It was quite a large pack, twenty to thirty wolves, that pulled down a large buck, and ate every scrap. It was the very same pack that staled to dwindle in size as pairs sheered off for the mating season. We had only about ten left in our pack soon, and there were three males constvtfly fighting for the companionship of a certain female. It all started when the youngest male, the three-year-old, nudged up against the gaunt, battle-scarred old elder and received a snarl in return. He then decided that he had taken enough of this kind of response, and lashed out at the old wolf. He then proceeded to attack him, clashing his ear to ribbons. Then it became a one-sided battle, as a newcomer joined the scene and set upon the ambitious three-year -old with the eider, and proceeded to destroy him. Meanwhile, the female looked on, and was pleased, for this was the law of the wild, and forgotten were the days they had hunted, fought and howled together. The business of love was at hand; a much sterner and crueller business than any other. Thus the young wolf yielded up his life and sank to the snow, because of love. Now that that problem had been solved, the big gray, the newcomer, turned to lick a wound in his shoulder leaving the curve of his neck exposed. But the old wolf was wise, very wise. He saw his chance, darted in low and closed his fangs, ripping, slashing deep into the great vein of the throat. The other snarled terribly, his snarl breaking amidst a tickling cough. Bleeding, coughing, already stricken, he sprang and ught as We faded from him, light dulled in his eyes. He sank to the snow; his blood staining it pink. The female still sat, contented in the snow and smiled as wolves do, for this was the love-making of the wild, tragedy only to those who died Adrian Fusinaz SIB The Test The question sheets were handed out and the louder noises died away. Brains simult£ineousJy clicked into motion as pens went to paper and boys started thinking. An intruder into the test would find it very quiet, almost silent compared with the outside worid, but to the boys taking the test it was all but quiet. They would notice the clicks of ball pens being taken up from paper, and the rubbing of hand and pen across the paper. Usually unnoticed sounds such as the turning over of a page, or the deep muffled throb of a boy trying to knock the answers out of his head would seem clear and definite. Indistinct whispers, depressing groans and relieving sighs would be louder than ever. The sharp clatter of a pen or pencil hitting the floor would cause everyone to glance around until having found the criminal, they turn back to their test. When the five minute warning was given a high tension would build up as boys raced to finish. The rubbing of hand and pen across paper would increase in speed. Groans would increase in frequency as the rushing students would make an increasing number of mistakes. Once the papers were collected in, answers would hit the students like machine-gun fire, and they would walk away sure of a fail. Lines S2P Record Album cover: DAVID BENEVIDES 4M Dawn Gradually the first faint glow of dawn began to appear over the distant horizon. The dim light steadily grew stronger and soon it dispelled the thk:k, black, almost tangible darkness of the night before, leaving the blurred, shadowy outlines of trees and buildings in its place. As the objects grew more distinct, the animals began to awaken. First, the loudly charping sparrows and cardinals fluttered out of their carefully built nest in search of food for themselves and their young. Next, the little mice began to busily scuttle back and forth between the tall, green blades of grass that were still covered with shining, glistening, drops of dew. Somewhere a cock crowed, and his ringing call was quickly answered by several others. Now, alarm clocks began to shrill, a tomcat started to howl, and shutters noisily opened, while the strong smell of bacon and eggs drifted along on the silent wind. The new day had begun. The Gardner Angry Look! — ANONYMOUS! Nicholas Glynn 52 P ' Cooling Out ' — ELWOOD FOX The Old Man Time had wrinkled his face; His soft eyes were hooded by aging lids. Yellow teeth decorated his mouth. Curtained by fading pink lips. The once tight skin that closed in on solid muscle Now sagged with defeat over weak bones. His chest was bald and withered And he hung his head low in shame. The room was dark and smelled with age He sighed and rested the boney head on the stool — and he was dead. Ian Mackie SIB 12 years old

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Water I came to the surface. The water behind me formed into two large rooster tails, then gradually into one small one. in front, it rushed up over the skis and drops like crystal marbles beat against them. As I moved faster and faster the water became a solution of foam around my legs, which seemed not to be a part of my body. Water rolled as water pebbles on my tense, buckled muscles, straining, bright brown from the dazzling sea before me. As I turned the corner, I began to see the whole of Ferry Reach. Suddenly it became a broken min or, flying through the air. The dangerous water forced me into it. I fell, but grabbed at the tow bar with even more force, instead of letting go. The boat did not slow down. The deep dark ocean seemed to be welcoming me for good. I screamed. The dark water guzzled steadily into my lungs. Richard Ian Pitcher S2L Cricket Gear — Still Life: ESjmSLEY LEWIS. Senior Year. Transport Improvement The single improvement in transport that would most benefit my country is a switch from the bus service to an organized llama transport system. This change would almost certainly draw howls of protest from the Bermuda Industrial Union, since the former bus drivers will then be unable to strike. Buses have a tendency to produce thick clouds of grey smoke, which are designed to bewilder the motorist travelling behind the bus, while the bus driver skillfully manoeuvres the bus into a bus shelter, and then suddenly swings out into the road again. This smoke is a potential health hazard, whereas the llama s pollution is a source of fuel. Also, when the bus pulls out of the shelter suddenly, without the bus driver indicating his intentions, and it is involved in a head-on collision with a garbage truck travelling at forty miles per hour in the other direction, the public is left with a useless heap of metal and bodies. A dead llama, on the other hand can be utilized to provide food, wool, hides, and tallow for candles. Bus drivers are prone to travel too great a distance in too short a period of time; indeed, the majority of bus drivers would be much more content at the controls of a Japanese Bullet Train. The llama, which cannot travel more than twenty miles per day, would never be in a position to receive a speeding ticket. Bus drivers are also notorious for trying to find out just how many passengers can be squeezed into the bus before the tyres on the vehicle deflate. The llama ' s build makes possible a llama to passenger ratio of only one to one. Therefore, one would never have to give up a seat to any little old lady who chances by. The view from this animal is exceptional, since there are no elbows or shopping bags in your face. Llama do not require continuous importation of diesel oil, and they are content to work for grass. Maintenance is nominal, the llama ' s only major requirement being an annual shearing. If their few requests are met, they are unlikely to speed past a stop, leaving a passenger in limbo. Bus drivers, however, demand many more niceties and are almost sure to strike if their needs are not fulfilled. It may seem that the bus drivers and the llamas have nothing at all in common. However, this is definitely untrue, like the bus drivers, when exhausted or over- loaded, the llama will lie down on the job, hiss, spit, kick, and refuse to move. R. L. Soares S4K George ' — stimulus for figure drawing exercise — MR. V. EVANS