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Page 13 text:
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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
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Page 12 text:
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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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Page 14 text:
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Flower studi;: SUSAN GARDNER, Senior Year ' Alas, poor Yorick ' : Spot the ' O ' Level candidate Ticking Take Over Tick, Tick go watches But then a new watch appears It works silently Ever so silently. With the press of a button A vivid flash of light And the time appears These new computers are slowly ticking over These silent watches Are appearing on many Wrists. The tick, tick is Slowly fading . . . As these revolutionaries Are ticking over The ominus tick is slowly fading tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick Jeffrey Freeman SIB Good Friday The gentle pelt of rain ceases and the moist sky is overflowing, once again with many kites. Marco Zanol S2P Alone Th e brandished sword came slashing down with blinding speed. In one fluid motion I had quickly dived and rolled and avoided the stroke of death. The skeletal figure now cautiously approached looking for the moment to strike. I tightened my sweaty grip on my battle axe and swung without waming. My blow harmlessly clashed against my opponent ' s sword. He moved like lightning and lunged his weapon towards my chest. I swerved, closed my eyes and swung with all my strength. A blood- curdling shriek pierced the early morning air as I felt my axe shatter the bones of the grotesque figure. All that could now be heard was the wind. Slowly I opened my eyes and stared at the skeleton crumpled on the ground. It still had the obscene, everlasting grin, but its eyes no longer glowed The closed door opened and my mom glared in at me. Greg ScaffS4K Boredom The rain has started, And I have nothing to do, Except my homework. Conn Smitii S2P Figure studi;, seated figure: ELWOOD FOX.
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