It is a summer night.
Years ago, there was a time when bands like Lynyrd Skynyrd, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and Journey were marketable, when pick-up trucks were popular, when they were still making new episodes of Dukes of Hazzard, and when Budweiser beer could be drunk openly in public.
I sat on the hard compacted earth; roots digging up into my straightened legs, probing through my purple and black striped tights.
I don't know many people who have the dedication and commitment to stick at one job for 45 years, let alone one where you spend your days surrounded by groups of, at times, "challenging" teenagers, doing too much work for not enough pay.
They bound through the house, their elephantine footsteps making the floor shake.
The fork was yellow.
From the sand, the sea doesn't look so terrifying.
Another long day at school.
Our plane touched down in Barcelona early in the morning.
Here I am, all of me, a normal healthy size 12. I admit, at times I do obsess, but when is enough enough?
We pulled into the driveway, that overcast spring afternoon.
The morning sun creeps its way through my bedroom curtains, rudely waking me from my much-needed sleep.
'Twas fresh and crisp as the sun rose over the mountain range, joyful birds did chirp and sing for they could sense the change. 'Twas no longer gloomy winter for spring has arrived. Weather...
A bold soldier in his own mind, just waiting.
It is winter.
Edgar Allan Poe's poem The Raven has inspired John McGlashan College year 13 pupil Aiden Kelsall to write an extension.
This is a series of diary entries written by Private Anthony Lewis of the 8th Shropshire Regiment - a naive 17-year-old from Shropshire who discovers the barbarities of warfare after being deployed into the battle zone. Inspiration for this writing is drawn from Wilfred Owen's poem Dulce Et Decorum Est.
With no sun or smiles to warm us up, we are cold. The casket throws out waves of ice, freezing the heartbreak into people's minds. Everyone wears black and it's all I can see. Only the...
War is a debate That no-one wins But always loses. War is a meeting Where bloodshed is always involved. War is sometimes a strength But always a weakness. War is started by old men But...
Some say the art of conversation is compromised. How can the art of conversation be compromised when there are, on average, 15 billion telephone calls, 40 billion SMS text messages and 10...