The Hallifordian - 2016-2017

26 Creative Writing Day Remember that Oscars fiasco? Wrong enve- lopes, wrong winners. The next evening Halliford had its own mini-Oscar ceremony – the presentation of awards at the Creative Writing Evening for a se- lection of poetry and prose. And it all went without a hitch! This annual event again produced a fine as- sortment of writing. During the day a number of pu- pils attended workshops where they were advised on the finer points of construction. The judge this year was G (Graham) P Taylor, whose career spanned be- ing a vicar, a policeman and latterly a writer of chil- dren’s fiction, including horror stories. The empha- sis this year was on character observation - because without good characters most stories fail to engage. In the evening ceremony Mr Taylor told an audience of staff, pupils and their families that on his third visit to Halliford he was again impressed by the talent shown – talent, he emphasised, not nor- mally found in state schools. And he stressed there were winners but no losers because of this. In the junior section (Years 7 and 8) the win- ner was Aidan Saunders, for some fine war poetry. Runners up were Theo Lloyd, James Hanley and Oliver Hume. In the intermediate group the winner was Sam Murray-Smith, for some imaginative de- scription, the runners up being Ben Cooper. Armaan Alavi and Matt Ballardie-Shepherd. The senior win- ner was George Churchill, for a truly deep and im- pressive piece of writing. Not far behind came Ben Chamberlin, Jack Davey and Helena Baglin. Closing the evening, the Deputy Headmaster thanked Mr Taylor, parents for attending, pupils for their skill and enthusiasm and the English depart- ment for organising the event. It is a vital one in the school calendar. Mrs Mitchelmore, Head of English Poppies at Dusk By Aidan Saunders Look how the poppies grow. The only light in the dark. The soldier’s thoughts are so low Soon the dusk hauls over the land. How the soldiers wish they could be home, Their judgement still unknown. They write to home every day, Making sure they don’t give secrets away. They see bodies everywhere, rotting. Stuck in No Man’s Land. Friends and foes. No Man’s Land always wins, hand in hand. The day has come to storm out the trenches, In a suicidal sprint to the enemy. Wishing they could be on a bench, But soon everyone is on the ground. We hear shouts of “YAY.” The war is won. Hip Hip Hooray. Goodnight poppies as dusk falls.