INK Issue 6 - 2019 by Marling INK

ISSUE 06 - 2019 MARLING SCHOOL

Contents 500 words competition

year 7......................................................................................................................4

year 8.....................................................................................................................6

year 9......................................................................................................................8

Making Dear Lady Death.......................................................................................10 Photo page.....................................................................................................................13 Lessons through a lens..........................................................................................14 Working together to change the world........................................................18 Inspirational CERN...................................................................................................20 Year 10 & 11 artwork.................................................................................................22 Tim Mahendran: from Marling to the West End...................................24 School of Rock............................................................................................................26 Matador Gaming: eSports in a school.........................................................28 Photo page....................................................................................................................30 Credits................................................................................................................................31

Editorial "Our challenges are great, but our will is greater.” – George H. W. Bush The sixth issue of INK Magazine has been a long process. With no previous team to pick up the reins from, this year’s (small) team started from scratch, facing the challenges of doing so with determination to write a new chapter in the INK story. With two years since the last publication, the new team had a lot of work to do. Each issue of INK magazine is different from the last, reflecting the interests of the editorial team, or the changing achievements of students throughout the school. This year, we chose to focus on the impact that Marling School students have on the world around them, with articles ranging from a trip to the UN in New York, to creating television documentaries in India. There is content from all corners of the school, from our KS3 short story competition to the accounts of former students, showing the creative prowess of our community. As always, thank you to all who have contributed to creating this year’s issue. Our designer Harry Gloyn deserves a special mention for putting the pages together single handedly. Thanks also go to Ms Harris for overseeing the project. We feel certain it won’t be two years until the next publication, but in the meantime please enjoy this, the 2019 issue of INK Magazine. The INK Team Ewan Davie, Student Managing Editor

INK Magazine’s

500 words

short story competition Year 7 students were asked to write a story based on the picture to the right, and years 8 and 9 were given the titles Hope and Broken

ven kept running in that dark cave, never looking back, not wanting to. Whatever was chasing him, Sven knew it wasn't human. He stumbled, flailing his arms to regain balance and turned around. There stood a terrifying sight, a cloaked figure twice as tall as a man, and where the face should have been there was a gaping black hole and two fiery slits for eyes. The creature drew a long rasping breath and reached towards him with a bony, black, clawed hand. Sven began to feel tired and drowsy, his body went numb, his legs gave way, he fell to the floor, then … black.

into the cave, finding ancient runes carved on the walls: symbols that only the tribe’s dreamers could read. Despite the sense of foreboding, he had pushed himself forwards, further and further into the eerie, never ending blackness.

“Sven,” came the Elder’s voice from beside him. “It is time.” The familiar inside of his roundhouse with the fire in the centre and the busy sounds of a normal day steadied him, but as Sven looked down at his left leg, he saw a long, jagged gash running down from his knee to his ankle which he was sure hadn’t been there yesterday. He’d had this dream night after night now; each time it had inflicted physical injuries on him. The dreams were becoming more vivid and the injuries were becoming worse. In the dream he had been irresistibly drawn

Paul Westoby 7G

The Elder was waiting patiently by his bed. “It is time” she repeated and as Sven watched, she drew on the earth floor one of the symbols from the cave walls in his nightmares. “How did you know?” Sven whispered.

darkness once more. But this time he would not run. For two days and nights he had sat alone in the dream temple, carving the runes into his spear shaft. His spirit keeper, a she-wolf, had come to him there, as the Elder had said, and had led him to the cave. Gripping his spear, the she-wolf moving silently beside him, Sven plunged on, further and further into the earth, the blackness pressing in around him. He felt, rather than saw the demon at first, felt the numbness as it drew the strength from this limbs, from his heart. Willing his arm to move, he felt his spear sing as he hurled it at the hole that was not a face. Sven covered his ears as an earsplitting screech ripped the air apart, but the demon kept on, claws outstretched for Sven’s throat as he fought to remember the incantation of the runes…

“I see everything you dream young warrior,” the Elder replied in a hoarse whisper, “You are the chosen one, the Stepping into the sunlight with the Demon Hunter.” she-wolf at his side, Sven now knew his strength. Man, warrior, Demon Sven ran his fingers over the ancient Hunter runes, feeling the draw of the cold

ll the farm animals had settled down for the night; the cows had stopped their cacophony of moos, even the sheep’s inexhaustible bleating had turned into snores. The farm was asleep. But the one place that never rested was the rat colony, a giant muck-heap right in the heart of the field. In fact, twenty-eight families lived below. They had burrowed deep down and had made a huge open area, with tunnels leading off to each family’s living quarters. To keep the colony working, each family was born into a job. The important job consisted of cleaning out the colony’s tunnels and chambers, extending them when needed. This family was known as the Sweeper family. Another important family never failed to bring back farm waste and delicious bits of leftover food to feed the whole colony. They would carry the food to the open area where it would be distributed equally. There was even a family that knew how to cure ill or injured rats, using methods passed down through generations. There were many other roles, but the most important of all went to the family elected to make rules that kept everyone in order THE ADMINISTRATORS. For many years all was well, until a few families began to feel exploited and cheated. The scavenger family had come back to find their portion of food scarce, despite their bringing over twenty times that amount. The Administrators had always given a fair amount to each family. The large Sweeper family and Mud-collector families (treated with the most disregard) were unconcerned as they were used to being treated badly. As time passed, the meals not only grew smaller but less appetising.

The Administrators were becoming noticeably large. The Scavenger family were infuriated at this as they knew what they were doing. They had had enough. So, the time came when the Scavenger family decided between them that they would separate and block off their tunnel from the rest of the colony. They wanted to keep the food they found and not have it “stolen” by the Administrator family and their associates. They found the biggest stones they could and blocked off all the access from the colony to their tunnels and chambers. The Scavenger family thrived as they knew the farm well and would go out to find food easily, ending each day in a lovely feast. Meanwhile, the rest of the colony struggled to find enough food for everyone. Even the Sweeper and the Mud-collector families were becoming agitated and angry so stopped working. The colony became dirty and diseased, and with disease came mayhem. The protectors stole what they could and shared the food with their favoured companions, organising raids on the Scavenger family.

Disease and pestilence spread across the heap and before long all evidence of the joyous rat colony had faded, leaving old, musty and abandoned tunnels. A lone acorn that one sensible rat had hoarded and forgotten sprouted and, over the course of many years, grew tall, marking the spot where countless had once lived in harmony, but history had now forgotten. If everyone cared enough, if everyone shared enough, wouldn't everyone have enough? There is enough in this world for everyone's need, but not everyone's greed

Alfie Nicholls 7E

500 words short story competition

YEAR 8 HOPE A quick burst of adrenaline strikes through me as the Junkers bomber begins to make its ascent into the grey. All I see is the air strip receding away from me. After about a minute we are levelling in the sky, pacing towards Rotterdam. I am the back gunner of the plane.

say that sometimes just surviving is victory. Now I hope this will not be one of those times. A soldier stands. As do the others. A gut-wrenching rumble kills the fragile quiet. Someone behind them shouts something inaudible. All of the others cower. The metal giants that are the

I instantly tense as bullets fly into view and I see what remains of Rotterdam. Operation Devastation has succeeded. A soldier opens his eyes. He sees flames. He sees ruins. For a second he is in Hell. Then, he is back in the

A soldier sits in a doorway in Rotterdam. He looks at his Garand semi-auto. He pulls back on the receiver and a bullet shell falls from the gun. He grasps it and stares into the sky. He waits. It’s usually about now - two hours into the flight - that I get sweaty palms. I am forced to keep hold of the stationary machine gun, forced to stare back at the world. A soldier stands up and stares at his mate. There is blood beneath his feet. The soldier cannot help him. He walks up the stairs of the warehouse. He sits with the others. He waits. I begin to tire. There are voices behind me. I don’t know what they are saying. I hear a low clang and, reflected through the window, I see the shadow of a 250 kilogram bomb. It is nearly time.

Junkers are now in view. I briefly glance behind me. All 250 kilos are ready. I close my eyes as the first is dropped. A hideous boom pummels the deathly silence and A soldier sits and breathes. He does the buildings below not feel prepared. He spies something us. A soldier jumps in the clouds and a tsunami of anxiety in fright. Another crashes through him. He crosses his screams. Another heart. He hopes to die. He waits. burns, flames licking his back. Another runs. Another follows. Another is still It is not only me that sees the clouds crouching, hands over his head. clearing. That sees the sketch-like outline of a city. My eyes fill. I must Another attempts a shot at the focus. Back at base I heard someone bomber, firing wildly into the sky.

city. He can’t say the same about the others. In the silence he gathers his senses and runs north. He has survived. He knows hope can go a long way.

Edward Cross 8C

I realise it is over well after the others. Some of them cheer. I can’t help but smile. I cry too. I don’t want to celebrate, I just want to fly home. Back at the air strip I wait in the plane after the others. And then I step out knowing one thing. Hope can go a long way

ope. She could see the refuge’s lights glittering under the starstruck sky. Strange name for a town, especially in these wastes. She felt the images forming in her mind, the muffled murmuring, the frosty clouds of breath emanating from frostbitten mouths. She shivered. It had been far too long since she had seen another human. Well, a friendly one at least.

was a veteran of the wasteland, and knew what to do. She chuckled to herself. Ayla Secura, explorer extraordinaire! “I’m going mad”, she murmured to herself, with a slight smile. Returning back to the task at hand, she kept her eyes open, watching. You could never be too careful these days.

Lucas Persaud 8F

Groaning, she stood up, arching her back and outstretching her arms. The sheer devastation and desolation of this bleak freezing wasteland never ceased to amaze her. If she was going to make it to Hope by nightfall tomorrow, then she’d have to move fast. She’d always found the heavy weight of the .44 magnum revolver clipped to her belt reassuring. It was her loyal protector in this new, savage world. Setting off down the forested hill, she was all too aware of the first morning rays penetrating through the trees. Annoyingly she could only travel during the day, despite it being far more dangerous than night. But she

She walked through the dark damp forest for a few more hours, occasionally stopping for a drink and a snack. She had enough supplies to last at least 4 more days, easily enough for now. On the 6th time she stopped she heard something. Twigs snapping on a path approximately 200 meters away, a slight murmur, a soft blur between the tree trunks. And then she froze. A bark. The only people who kept dogs now were…bandits. Savage thugs, ruthless killers, they plagued the open plains and dense forests, killing anyone and everyone they came across. Her heart pounding in her head, she slowly backtracked. She could see only two bandits, just a scout party. She knew that meant that there was a much larger force behind them.

Even worse, that meant that they were travelling. And then it clicked. She felt sick to her stomach, her previously relatively high hopes diminished into a small, flickering flame. They were heading for Hope. And when they got there they would rampage through, killing most and enslaving the rest. Although perhaps death would be preferable to being forced into their Legion of slaves. Once she was certain that she was safe, she began to move incredibly quickly, running through the now flickering sunlight. Thump. She screamed, her ears ringing, her leg in agony. Two more gunshots went off, hitting right beside her head: tears streaming down her face, her ragged breaths not seeming to get enough air. This was it. After a lifetime of close calls, this is where she would end. This was something that happened to other people, not her…never her. Fur boots casually walked over the dry crisp leaves. The click of a pistol. And then it was gone. She no longer had hope

500 words short story competition

YEAR 9 BROKEN

n opening. Run, the ball is yours and so is the game. The pressure piles on his shoulders and the increasing cheers and encouragement from commentators and fans alike builds up into one intensive white noise. When an pportunity arrives, take it or leave it, that’s all you can do. He wasn't going to let a good chance like this disappear. A pass out wide spinning in the air and landing, causing absolute destruction to the city of mud and dew that had settled on the pitch. The ball soon came back to him, the opening now down to a one-on-one. As if in slow motion, the ball went around the defender and the striker had thrown a grenade. With enough power to tow a truck, the ball sped towards the bottom

left corner and slid under the frantic waving of the goalkeeper’s hands and hit the net. Whether or not that made a sound, no one would ever know. Once the ball had crossed the line, the grenade went off, causing an explosion of earthquake-level intensity - the striker was surrounded by his jubilant team and the noise of the roaring fans starting up another chant. It wasn't just the opposition fans that were riled up now. The opposition were taking the manager’s team talks literally and ‘break a leg’ was now the most threatening phrase out there. Next half, another opportunity. The one-on-one comes faster this time, as if the defender is welcoming it. The ball goes around, but before the striker can follow, a charge stronger than an ox, strong enough to break the pace of the game, hits him down to the ground. Leg and atmosphere

are broken together. The medics took what seemed like an hour to cross the mud-ridden pitch and fight their way through the wild forest of agitated players calling for foul after foul at the referee. Too long for the player who was rolling around in pain. When they reached him, time stopped. The injury analysis was a short process, but the information that the leg was indeed broken took a lot more time to sink in. A broken leg in football meant everything was broken. Any relationship with the tackler had been shattered, and if the referee said to play on, another broken friendship. His career had been thriving and now it had gone, disappeared right in front of him like the world’s greatest magic trick.

Freddie Turner 9G

Sat on the pitch, his shirt drenched in mud, his mind drenched in sorrow, the childhood dream was broken

here are few words that can fully describe what happened to Oliver Williams on the 2nd November, 1982. To passers-by, it might have looked like an underdressed young man seeking refuge in a church in a thick shower of late-night rain - sheets of it, in fact, beating down, layer upon layer. A rational entrance to an inviting place - though the exterior appearance insisted otherwise.On first sight, the numerous frozen-still gargoyles and overly lifelike stained-glass windows made it appear as though any church might - but almost everything else persuaded that it was anything but normal. For example, the baroque church appeared absolutely symmetrical save for a stone sculpture of a woman, carved in perfect imperfection and attached to the facade, almost as if the woman had lived and died in that very place, with a Spanish inscription underneath:

mysterious and symmetrical of weddings, roses and chrysanthemums to the side of each pew, a smorgasbord laid out on the altar, and the centrepiece, a vast but empty charming flowerpot, elaborately decorated with the outline of a woman in a flowered sombrero, subtitled “La Calavera Catrina”, then signed by the artist. Virtually everything was covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dust. Outside the church, a crack of thunder made Oliver whip his head round in shock, and he was met with some form of recent graffiti on the balcony in red, in a language he could not comprehend:

Alfie Arthur 9B

La Iglesia De Nuestra Señora De La Santa Muerte Even the door itself was uninviting: the stone-cold steel knob almost completely eaten alive by rust, and the frame had been virtually consumed by the immense rot it had suffered. But to Oliver Williams, it did not matter. The weather and late hour gave him no choice. “Is anybody here?” called Oliver, and his voice seemed to echo in a million corners, but to no avail. “Anybody?”

supernovae erupting within his mind at once, more and more confusion and anger and shock… Then, nothing. When Oliver awoke, he stood in front of the quaint flowerpot he had seen before, which lay on the floor in several pieces in front of him. The whole church was silent, but for the rain: still beating down on the roof, deafeningly quietly. There are very few words that can fully describe what happened to Oliver Williams on the 2nd November, 1982, but there is one word that can describe him now. Broken

La Señora de la Santa Muerte Estaba Aquí “I don't understand!” screamed Oliver. “What’s happening?” Still no reply. It came slowly at first. Just a gripping sensation of unwanted compelling obligation to do something, a mere idiosyncrasy. Then it was more alarming: suddenly, Oliver felt the need to walk forward, towards the altar and the food and the flowerpot. Slowly, gently, his vision began to blur, then, all at once, wicked hallucinations built up in his head, which soon turned into kaleidoscopes, millions of scintilla and

No reply. And yet he knew he wasn't alone. Watched by the numerous ornaments and statues that lined the walls, he continued through the church, still able to hear the rain thrashing down outside, slamming on the windows and hammering at the roof. The church seemed set for the most

Making Dear Lady Death A little over two years ago, life took a frightening and unexpected turn for former Marling student Tom Meadley. In this moving account, Tom writes about his profoundly difficult experience and his creative response to it.

was sat on a steamboat, headed down the Mekong river to the Thai-Lao border. I’d just finished my first year at music school, and had gone travelling through South East Asia for the summer. The boat was full of Lao locals, sat in silence, smoking and staring into the jungle that lined the banks of the Mekong. I sat next to the only other foreigners, two guys slightly older than me. It transpired they were planning a trek in the jungle, right by the border. I’d been feeling pretty ropey for weeks, but I put it down to general traveller’s fatigue, so I asked to join them. As soon as we arrived, I could feel my body failing. I fell behind, and after five hours walk through wet, sweltering heat, we got to the treehouse. I stayed there for the next two days. On the third day, we had to walk back out. I fell further back from the group until it was just me and the guide. Barely able to breathe, I collapsed on the jungle floor. The circle of light filtering through the canopy began to shrink and I started to pass out…

I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia. Within two days of being a normal 21 year old on summer break, I was in Cheltenham Hospital. The doctors told me that I had no immune system, and needed to remain in isolation. I was trapped in a small, white room for the next month. I could have guests, but I didn’t want to tell my friends. It was summer. Photos of festivals and parties filtered through my phone, taunting me. What followed is a very long and difficult story, which I couldn’t even circumscribe here. Suffice to say, after an intensely lonely and painful ten months, I emerged out of isolation in April 2018. I became depressed. I still felt alone, afraid to reintegrate. I had no job, friendship group or university to slot back into. What really pressed on my mind was the fear of the future.

with the complexity and pressure of normal life. I began to feel I was too old to “make it” as a musician. I decided, sat by the sea in Weymouth one night, that I would give up and go back to university. A few days later, I was invited to interview for an artist’s residency with Creative Youth Network in Bristol, which I had applied to a few weeks before. Since I was planning to go back to uni, I felt no pressure and spent the day making friends and discussing ideas. A week later, sat on a packed train, I got a phone call: CYN had chosen me for the residency. I called my dad, and said, “I’m going to turn it down, I don’t want them to realise they made a mistake!” Thankfully, he persuaded me to give it a go.

Over the next six months, I had studio space, mentoring and an open brief. My initial idea was I found that I almost missed my a sound installation, using the leukaemia – something the friends poetry and music I had written I made on the ward agreed with. whilst in isolation. I envisioned a It had been my identity. Life had box made of reflective material. been so simple. It was about one People would come to sit in the thing – survival. Now I was faced box and experience, briefly, what

were nearly a hundred people coming the next day – what could I do?

it was like to be trapped inside this small physical space, inside my head. I built this box with my parents in their dining room, out of wooden beams and sheets of one-way mirror film, with LED lights screwed into the top. By turning the lights on or off, the film would change from being a mirror to a window to the audience. During my treatment, a friend of mine had filmed a documentary about me, so we had hours of footage of me in hospital and in the flat. This too, I began to integrate into the show. Over the first three months, this installation transformed into a performance. With three months to go, I found myself faced with the task of being writer, actor, director and set designer for a theatre piece – with no experience in theatre! Even worse, my parents had booked a family holiday to Malaysia over Christmas. I finished the script on the plane home, arriving on New Years Day, exactly a week before the performance. From 5 am that morning (Thursday) until the show (the next Thursday), I was completely lost in a frantic, dream-like flow. A couple of days before the show, it became clear that it wasn’t working as theatre. The night before the premiere of the play, I was sat in my room, my head in my hands. I couldn’t do it. But I knew there

Photo credit: Ruth Davey

I still had the music and poems, and I knew they were good. I imagined standing on the stage, apologising, and then doing a conventional gig. As I ran through the setlist in my head, I slipped into a mid-song patter; describing what had been happening when each piece was written. It came to me in a flash. This wasn’t theatre. This wasn’t a play. I wasn’t an actor. This was real. Instead of a play, I would tell my story to the audience, as I remembered it (without a script), and intersperse the narrative with songs, poems and footage. At 4 am on the morning of the first performance, I rewrote the entire show. My parents came downstairs at 8 am, to find me surrounded by pieces of paper, whereupon I announced “I’ve rewritten it! Sit down and I’ll do it for you now!”. They agreed on the condition I had a cup of tea and took some deep breaths. I practised continuously until shortly before the performance, running through it 5 or 6 times. I meditated in the dressing room. I could hear the audience assembling. From the moment I walked on stage, I was in a trance. I had no script but I knew the story better than any actor. The performance went brilliantly – especially given the chaotic circumstances it was birthed in! On the second night, I got a standing ovation. The whole experience of making Dear Lady Death was cathartic, and I learnt a lot - but I never want to be that underprepared again!

Eye of the Storm

This is a poem based on the lyrics of the final song in Dear Lady Death.

It seems like a lifetime ago, Breathing the hospital air; Watching the leaves, from the window, Fall like severed hair; Longing to lie in the ground, Angry to have even been born But suddenly I have been found In the eye of the storm.

I searched for the stairs to the sky. I read every map I could find. I yearned and I sought and I tried, When suddenly I was struck blind And I saw, you don’t need to look far; No, you don’t need to look at all The centre’s wherever you are In the eye of the storm

I shivered unclothed in an alley In the chill of industrial air, I killed my mind, with smoke and wine And cursed the words that lingered there. But I can be drunk when I dream; I can be high evermore I don’t know what it means To the eye of the storm

Blindfolded, tasteless and dumb, I struck out in anger and shame. I smelt her perfume on the fire; I heard it extinguished by rain. But when I forgot my own name, And knelt before sorrow’s scorn, I learnt I was stronger than pain In the eye of the storm

And it seemed like I was lost, But I was only in my mind And hope is not something you find, It's with you all the time

And it seemed like I was lost, But I was only in my mind & home is not something you find, It's with you all the time

I’ve been alone for so long, Forgetting my mother’s touch. She left when I was too little, I think about her too much. There’s too much I cannot forget Too many dreams to be mourned But I washed away my regrets In the eye of the storm Somewhere in another’s arms Lies an old lover of mine. She whispers that I brought her harm And ran from the scene of the crime, Leaving her broken, like glass, Standing alone in the dawn But I’ve got no place for the past In the eye of the storm And it seemed like I was lost, But I was only in my mind And love is not something you find, It's with you all the time

10 12

Written by Tom Meadley

Photo-Page y11

Above - Freddie Morgan Below - James Norris

LESSONS THROUGH A LENS E ver since my older brother got his first camera five years ago, I have been fascinated with the idea of being able to tell stories through pictures. As my passion developed I discovered you could take videos on the camera, and later through using Movie Maker on your computer, you could edit these short videos to make short films. I was enthralled by the idea of being able to make movies on this camera in my own house, and spent hours and hours learning the ins and outs of the equipment. When I was 14 I decided I wanted to tell a story very close to my heart, one that meant a lot to me and I therefore decided to reach out to some actors I knew and make a film. The film, entitled ‘Just Walk’, was highly commended in a number of festivals and was my first real break into the world of cinema. After that I made film after film, developing my craft and honing my skill until, finally, an incredible opportunity would come knocking. My younger brother Alfie was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when he was nine years old and it completely changed our lives. For years he has had to inject insulin into his legs four or five times a day and prick his finger tens of times a day in order to make sure he stays at a healthy blood sugar level. More recent technological developments have meant that he now has a pump and a continuous glucose monitor, but as Alfie’s diabetes became easier to monitor and handle, we became

What I learnt from spending three weeks in India shooting a TV documentary

acutely aware of the fact that so many children with type 1 diabetes didn’t, and never would, have access to this kind of technology. Despite the setbacks that Alfie’s diabetes has caused, he has battled it since day one, never wanting it to take control of his life or dictate what he can or can’t do, and this has inspired me so much. The amazing things that he achieves through his charity work and more are testament to his resilience and persistence, and all of his incredible accomplishments inspired me to do something that seemed simply impossible at the time.

My pitch was that I wanted to create a documentary about him and his journey with his condition. Miraculously, Cat, the CEO of the company, replied and said that she was interested in the idea of the documentary and would love to talk more. After a few phone calls and a lot of

When I sent the first email that led to this whole experience, I never could have imagined the incredible people I would meet and the life lessons I would learn. On the 17th January 2018, I sent a ridiculous long shot email to BAFTA, RTS and Emmy award winning production company Nine Lives Media. After watching one of their 'My Life' films (a series on CBBC about extraordinary children with extraordinary lives) I had shot a short taster clip of Alfie, about his story.

excitement, I began to talk to Sunny Kang, an award winning producer director, about the shape the documentary could take and the different directions that it could go in. While we began to shoot in England, anything from presentations in school to chance encounters with herds of cows, Sunny, myself and the team began to brainstorm ideas about how to make the documentary stand out. This was when he began to float the idea of going to India, the country with the highest number of children with type 1 diabetes in the world. We got in contact with a charity called ‘Life for a Child’, who work incredibly hard to make sure that no child has to die of type 1 diabetes. We had countless emails and meetings with them and eventually pitched the idea to CBBC. This was the key moment. If CBBC said no then the whole programme couldn’t go ahead. I spent nervous weeks waiting and waiting for an email until finally it came through.

We had the commission. The next few months were a blur: in between revising hard for GCSEs, I was going to meetings about the documentary and learning how to shoot with a brand new camera. We shot hours of footage in the UK, intricately following mine and Alfie’s lives, in preparation for the key shoot which lay ahead of us in India. Before we knew it we were on a nine hour flight to Bengaluru, India, which would be our base of operations over the next three weeks. After spending a few days in our hotel in Bengaluru, we set off travelling around South India, attempting to explore every

inch of hidden glory that this country had to offer. It’s hard to describe the experience of being in a place like India, the sheer beauty that surrounds the entire country; even if you are just driving along a back country road, the backdrops are ridiculously beautiful. And yet, despite the beauty of the country, the cultural shock was intense. This was my second time in India and the shock was not any smaller. To go from living in a small, quite sheltered village in the Cotswolds my whole life, to being fully submerged in these bustling metropolises is a change that takes some time to adjust to. It’s easy to forget that these cities are nothing like London or Birmingham. There is faeces everywhere, animal or otherwise, with cows wandering the streets, skinny and unkempt. Without meaning to sound like a GCSE English student, the juxtaposition in these places is unfathomable. We spent a few days staying in a remote house in the middle of a tea plantation in Munnar. The sheer beauty of the area was immense. The sunsets were indescribable and yet there was extreme poverty just a few miles away in the nearby city. It was hard to take in this experience, let alone to capture it on camera.

Article written by Billy Arthur y12

Alfie and Syd.

fter a week travelling around India, we met up with the film crew, who flew out to meet us in Munnar. We took an overnight sleeper train back to Bengaluru, the city we would be filming in, and then we began to shoot. The plan for filming was to spend the first few days meeting people and then over the weekend we would visit a clinic in the city which provided free healthcare to children with type 1 diabetes who couldn’t afford to pay for it. The first day took us outside of the city. After passing through three layers of security gates, we entered what barely seemed to be India. Perfectly sectioned streets, lined with beautiful blooming palm trees; roads that looked brand new. We were here to meet a girl called Adya who had been campaigning for diabetics rights within India. She had very similar technology to Alfie; she

used electronic pumps and a pod in order to manage her diabetes. It was interesting to meet her and hear her story as it was far from the norm in India. From her gated community, with a swimming pool and gym and dance studios, she was able to easily manage her diabetes - she had the money she needed to do it and could afford all of the latest technology. This meeting became very important when we went to the clinic because it’s so easy to forget that not everyone’s situation is the same. Whilst she could easily afford supplies, this was not the case in much of India.

72.9 million people in India are living with diabetes

The rest of the second week we spent exploring Bengaluru, and meeting other people who were influential in the diabetes advocacy scene within India. Before we knew it, the weekend had come around and we were in a convoy of cars driving through winding Bengaluru streets, until we ended up at what seemed to be a block of flats in the heart of the city. The clinic was an unassuming building, with open doors and windows, which was really a testament to how opening and welcoming the whole community within the clinic was. The Saturday we went there was a day for people to come to the clinic in order to get their supplies to manage their diabetes for free. We met some incredible children and their stories are the ones that have really stuck with me. One of the kindest people I have ever met was a young man called Syd. He was around 20 and had a smile that could light up the room. He made all

of our crew and Alfie feel so welcome in the clinic and we later went to visit his house to learn more about his journey with diabetes. He lived in a square room, barely two metres by two metres, with him, his mum and his dad. A toilet block in the back was the only facility they had access to. He had had diabetes since he was around ten and had been going to clinic for as long as he could remember, despite the fact that it would take him half a day at least to walk there when he was younger. The clinic had helped educate him, not just on his diabetes, but also in life, giving him a purpose and the chance to help people and also giving him the support he needed to get a job in order to start earning. Unfortunately, not everything about his story is good. One of his best friends, who also had type 1 diabetes and who he went trekking with wasn’t so lucky. They were on a trekking adventure together when his friend slipped and cut his hand. The wound got infected and he was sent back to be with his trekking family who were meant to look after him. The family didn’t know what type 1 diabetes was and therefore they couldn’t treat him. This lack of knowledge meant that he didn’t survive. This story really stuck with me about how important it was for people to be educated about Type One diabetes so that something like this would never happen again. Whilst we were at the clinic, we met the person who ran the whole operation. Dr Sri was such a welcoming man, he was so caring for each of the kids, and knew them all personally. He told us so many inspiring stories about the children who were coming to the clinic and there were so many lessons that I took away from meeting these inspiring children. In the face of all adversity they were not just continuing with life with a smile on their face but also trying their absolute best to give back to the community that had helped them through these tough times, by

giving up their free time to hand out supplies and offer advice to the new children at the clinic who were in the same position that they were once in.

In an age where hostility and hate are taking control, this pocket of love these children have created can teach us so much. The final week of our trip we spent meeting other children who were introduced to us at the clinic, children like a girl called Harshini, who travels for hours upon hours on the bus through dusty, bumpy country roads in order to get to the clinic. These children only get one test strip a day to manage their diabetes and check their blood sugar (for comparison, Alfie tests himself almost constantly throughout the day). These children have to come up with inventive ways such as the routine they use and the meals they eat every day in order to try and control their diabetes on the limited supplies they have.

This journey was far from easy, physically and emotionally. We were shooting all day every day, in very hot and humid conditions. By the end of the trip we were so drained, but left so inspired by what we had seen. These people were so kind and welcoming and so willing to share what little they had with these guests that they barely knew. I think so many children in the UK could barely imagine being in a situation like the one the children we met are in, and yet they are living a life so full of joy it’s hard to imagine how they do it. The positivity that they have, despite having faced so many challenges, is a constant reminder of how we should live our lives, and the way they constantly strive to give back never ceases to amaze. It was simply incredible how much we could learn from these children, and in an age where hostility and hate is taking control, this pocket of love these children have created can teach us so much.

Billy, Alfie and Harshini.

Working together to change the world In March 2019 six Marling students travelled to New York to take part in the Change the World Conference at the United Nations. Mark Boixader-Riera writes about what an amazing experience it was.

f it were not for my old school friend Pau, who showed me pictures of his own trip to New York, I would never have had the idea of proposing this trip to the school, and my life this year would have been very different. Although I feel his intent was more to show off his expensive holiday to me, I saw past his arrogance to a city full of wonder and opportunity. Visiting the United States to participate in a political event at the United Nations seemed such an attractive opportunity to me that it was worth a shot. In the end, to my joy, the trip was approved by the school. This meant the next step was to get enough people interested in the trip at pretty short notice. We managed to sign up six people - the minimum number we needed - then followed

months of quite tense preparation and planning. Going to New York to an event that has almost 3,500 participants, and where last year former US President Bill Clinton made a speech, was quite a serious affair! The scariest moment for me was when we received a letter telling us that the country that we had to represent in front of almost all the nations of the world was Ivory Coast. When I first read the words Ivory Coast I did not know where to place it on the map, let alone know who the president was, what religion they practiced or language they spoke. For a while, I thought we had very bad luck. I was in a state of panic! What was I to do? And on top of that, I had to represent that country in a special committee on terrorism.

But after some serious research, I felt better about it. Before we knew it the months had passed and the awaited day arrived. My alarm sounded at 5 am, waking me with a jolt. The taxi journey then followed, from Stroud to Heathrow, to arrive at the airport at 8 in the morning and leave at 10. Destination: the big city. For me, the journey was 8 hours of watching tedious and facile series and movies (not counting the two that I saw in the taxi!)- nothing short of a living hell from my modest perspective. But when I arrived and caught my first glimpse of those skyscrapers that I had only ever seen on TV, I knew it was worth it. I was in New York: a city where you see people from all over the world, different cultures, different languages. The hotel was fantastic, with an air of the Roaring Twenties, reminiscent of The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. The first day we had a group meeting in the hotel. In my case, terrorism was the topic to be discussed. Countries of all kinds were represented there, by people of various nationalities, although there seemed to be a large number of Italians, Chinese and some Spanish. The day was very interesting. We talked, confronted, and created alliances between countries. We started to draft a resolution proposal that had to be voted by a majority to pass. In our case, representing a

country like CĂ´te d'Ivoire, we allied with countries in Africa, but in the end mainly sympathized with Eastern countries such as Russia or China. The most developed countries argued that the main weapon against terrorism was education, which I personally believed and defended. However, they forgot a very important fact: the countries most affected by terrorism are those that need security, armament, control of borders etc. This was the main focus of argument and discussion during the two days of debate. At night we had the honour of being able to go to the UN building and sit in the armchairs where international ambassadors from across the world regularly meet to discuss global issues. There, Michel Platini himself, former professional football player and president of UEFA, made a speech with international politicians and the former Prime Minister of Italy. It was a real privilege to be there. On the second day, we went to the UN to end the debate session. There we forged the last alliances between countries to vote for the final resolution. These meetings were with countries that tended to have a contradictory viewpoint to that of our own, but that we were obliged to form alliances with. In the end, we got the vote of the USA for our proposal (a very tricky affair!), and with it came the rest of the conservative nations. This

isolated Western Europe and a number of South American countries. So our resolution won! So many hours dedicated to negotiation gave rise to a result that represented something more than just the fight against terrorism. It was an achievement which relied on the combined effort, dedication and cooperation of people from highly contrasting cultures speaking completely different languages. â&#x20AC;&#x2039;â&#x20AC;&#x2039; Ultimately, our victory represented recognition for forgotten countries which had been previously disregarded by the UN and the elite establishments and governments of the modern privileged world. Overall, the trip was fantastic. While it only lasted a few days, it was packed with the experiences of a lifetime. We saw the great city of New York, we went to the UN, we debated there, and most importantly, we made international friends. You never know what will happen when you take part in something like this, but one thing is certain, such experiences teach you how small the world can be, and how our

differences make us stronger. Written by Marc Boixader Riera with the help of Raphael Morter

Inspirational CERN

arlier in march, a group of year 12 Marling and Stroud High School students had the once-in-alifetime opportunity to see the inner workings of the largest particle accelerator on the planet: the Large Hadron Collider, in Geneva Switzerland.

This 27 km-long piece of machinery allows scientists to boost streams of particles close to the speed of light and direct them into collisions in an attempt to replicate the early universe shortly after the big bang. These collisions are mapped out by enormous detectors - the largest of which is over 45m long and weighs over 7,000 tonnes enabling them to study key particle physics theories such as the standard model. Thanks to Marling teacher Steve Berry, students were able to get a close-up view of this incredible scientific investigation. The particle accelerator is currently turned off to allow it to be upgraded with new tech, due to finish in late 2021. So arrangements were made for the students to travel 100m below the surface to see the detectors first hand, without being exposed to vast amounts of radiation that would normally result in death within twenty-four hours.

The detector the students visited was the Compact Muon Solenoid (or CMS for short). Unlike other detectors, the CMS is constructed around a huge cylindrical coil of superconducting cable that generates a magnetic field of around 4 tesla - 100,000 times more powerful than Earthâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s magnetic field. The CMS experiment is one of the largest international collaborations in history. As of February 2014, it involved more than 4300 particle physicists, engineers, technicians, students and support staff from 182 institutes in 42 countries. The Standard model This is a theoretical model of particle physics that describes three of the four fundamental forces (electromagnetic, weak and strong interactions, not including gravitational force) and classifies all known elementary particles. Almost like a periodic table but for the subatomic particles that make up the universe.

his detector has a variety of uses; from studying the standard model and the Higgs Boson to searching for extra dimensions and particles that could include dark matter. To investigate these mysterious phenomena, the CMS smashes together beams of protons 40 million times per second. Many of these collisions will be just glancing blows, but a few are head-on and extremely energetic, resulting in some of the energy being converted to mass and new, sometimes previously unseen particles being thrown out into the detector. These new particles have extremely short life spans before they decay (turn into other particles) - often shorter than a picosecond. The way in which these particles act can give scientists clues about how nature behaves at a fundamental level. In the words of CERN: â&#x20AC;&#x153;We want to advance the boundaries of human knowledge by delving into the smallest building blocks of our universe.â&#x20AC;?

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The students were very fortunate to be able to see the detector close up. It is a truly remarkable device and the memory will stay with them. Going to CERN and seeing cutting-edge scientific research first hand is a fantastic experience for our future scientists. - Steve Berry, Marling physics teacher

Article written by Harry Gloyn, Photography by Alex Nunn y12

Higgs boson The Higgs boson is an elementary particle, present on the standard model, and is the carrier of the Higgs field. This energy field was first proposed in 1964 by Peter Higgs to explain why some particles have more mass than others. Put simply, the more massive the particle, the more it interacts with the Higgs field. You can think of the Higgs field as an ocean and particles moving through that field as fish - some glide right through and others must put in more work. The Higgs boson can be thought of as the water molecules that make up this ocean. Dark matter This is a hypothetical form of matter accounts for approximately 85% of matter in the universe. Noone knows what dark matter is made of - theories range from axions to WIMPs, to particles not yet discovered. The existence of dark matter is suggested in various astrophysical observations, especially gravitational effects that cannot be explained by the current theories of gravity unless more matter is present than can be seen.

Photography & Artwork Freddie Morgan y11

Joe Cohen y12

Tom Ticehurst y11

Q&A

With Tim Mahendran

From Marling to the West End

Since his days at Marling, Tim Mahendran has acted in many stage productions, both at amateur and professional levels. He recently gained a part in the new West End musical & Juliet, which imagines an alternative ending for Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Tim tells INK about his experiences... Congratulations on your West End role, could you tell us a bit about it? Thank you very much. Yes of course, so it is about the life of Juliet if she didn’t kill herself after she sees Romeo dead. She goes on to live her life and meets various new characters on the way. However, you will have to come see it to get all the details! What led you to pursue a career in acting? I had always been interested in acting from a young age. I had been part of various drama groups around the Gloucestershire area. When I was around 14 years old, there was an open audition for 13 which was going to The Apollo, in the West End. I decided to go along, as I had nothing to lose from doing so, and I was lucky enough to be cast in it. From that moment I never really looked back and now, here I am! How did your experience at Marling influence your career choice? When I was at Marling there were never any musical productions as such, however there was a strong Music Department run by the incredible Mr Godfree, who, to this day, I am so grateful for. He inspired and assisted me throughout my 7 years at Marling. After doing the show 13 I then signed with an agent based in London, which meant that I was back and forth from London for auditions. It can be very tricky for a school to allow a student to be absent (twice a

week sometimes!). However, Dr Wilson and heads of departments were extremely forgiving and supportive of my auditions. What were your best experiences at Marling? I had many high points at Marling as I spent a lot of my time growing up there. Two things I remember very clearly. First is being captain of the first team in rugby under the supervision of the one and only Mr Wilson, who, to this day, remains one of my biggest supporters. And second: I was in the music department one day, and Mr Godfree approached me and asked, ‘What are you doing this evening?’ It was at the time that our A Level coursework was due, so I thought he possibly wanted to do some work on it, adapt it, etc. I said, ‘Nothing, why?’ He then responded, ‘Our singer for the big band has dropped out tonight so we are in desperate need of a singer, do you think you could learn the song before the concert?’ This concert was only in a few hours bear in mind. ‘Yes of course I’ll try,’ I said, ‘but could I possibly have the words on a music stand because it is five and a half minutes long?’ ‘Yes absolutely,’ he said. So I thought, great, I’ll go home, listen to the song on repeat and then come back for the 7 O’clock show - only concentrating on the melody, as I was promised the assistance of lyrics, I felt fairly confident. When whe time came, Mr Godfree made the announcement and up I came, walking through the audience who applauded me onto stage. Alas, I noticed a certain lack of a lyric sheet. I turned to Mr Godfree with the fear rising in my stomach and asked where the lyrics sheet was. He looked at me and said, ‘Good luck,’ and with a 1, 2, 3, 4, he counted the band in! Safe to say there were a lot of la la’s within that song.

What did you enjoy studying at school? Throughout my time at Marling I was always torn about what I wanted to do as a career, whether to venture into acting or into sport. So I absolutely loved all sport lessons (PE, games, rugby training, cricket training etc) and also loved the music and drama side of it. I was never very good at maths but for some reason I really enjoyed it! And I have to say, shoutout to Mrs Bedford and Mr Brown for making French and history such joyous occasions. What was your journey after you left school? From sixth form at Marling I went on to do a BA in Musical Theatre at Mountview Academy of Theatre Arts which is a drama school in London. I trained there for 3 years before going on to sign with my agent and work professionally. What has been the greatest influence on your acting? This is a hard one for me because I never really had any particular artists that truly inspired me. I always had artists whose work I really appreciated, I still do! But I would say it was my parents who inspired me purely because they put in so much time, effort and money to take me to every singing, dance, or acting lesson. So when I’m feeling tired and I feel like I don’t have the energy to go in to do a show, I just remember the effort on their part, and it inspires me to do well. What has been the most challenging part of acting? I think the most challenging part is the competition and the feeling of having to prove yourself to every person. It’s a strange one because when you're rehearsing for a show, there are usually about 20 people in the room watching, from the producers to the stage management, so you feel like you have a duty to deliver every single time you sing a song or every time you do a scene and that is quite hard. It doesn't matter how many shows you have done, or how long you have been working with these people, you always feel like you have a duty to deliver (which can also be a good thing as well).

show called Spring Awakening. I had been training for 3 years which had been physically and emotionally draining and had all led to this moment. At the end of the show I saw my parents on their feet looking very emotional which was touching to see how proud they really were. My favourite offstage moment is also linked to my parents. I was doing a show at Chichester Festival Theatre before Christmas in 2018, and I was sat in my dressing room between shows when I got the call from my agent telling me I had got the new West End role which was a crazy experience. So as soon as I got off the phone to my agent, I rang my parents and told them the news and they were even more emotional than I was! What advice would you give to someone who wants to go into acting? I would always advise anyone to work hard and stay hungry. I believe that if you are ever bored or tired of a job you're doing then you shouldn't do it. And that is the beauty of being an actor, every new production is fresh and new. Strive to be the best you can be, in any project you ever do. If you had the opportunity again, would you do anything differently? I don’t think I would do anything differently. Many people ask me, do you wish you had entered into dance lessons a lot earlier - and the truth is no. From the age of 6-20 I was enjoying my rugby more than anything else and that was my hobby, and I wouldn't have changed that. Hindsight is a lovely thing, but I feel the journey you go on influences who you are and makes you the person you are hence why it is important to own that journey, and rock it. Where do you hope your career will go in the future? I want to be happy! That’s all really. So hopefully my career will make me happy! We will see - I’ll enjoy the present for now as it is very exciting!

What has been your most enjoyable experience in theatre? My most enjoyable moment… that’s a tricky one. I have had highs and lows, as will every actor, however, I must say the highs very much outweigh the lows. My onstage highlight was during my first professional job out of drama school, which was a

n 13th-15th March 2019, six months’ worth of hard work paid off in Marling School’s production of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s School of Rock: The Next Generation. Students and staff worked tirelessly from auditions in late September towards the production, with two 90-minute rehearsals held on a weekly basis. As a new student joining in year 12 in September, it was amazing to see how much of the production was done by the students. While it was directed by Mrs Ashley and Mr Zeal and teachers helped with making the set and singing rehearsals, the cast, stage crew and musicians were all Marling students from across the whole school. Whether in Year 7 or the sixth form, everyone’s work ethic for learning lines, cues, choreography, etc. was admirable and all contributed towards the final product in March.

To perform effectively, the script is far more complex and challenging than it looks to be at face value. The most important thing I think this showed to all the students who were new to performing a full-length stage production was that the lines only make up a small percentage of the actual play. When watching it in rehearsal, people evidently became increasingly aware of the level of concentration and dedication required to pull off a performance like this, regardless of how much they spoke. A huge part of the commitment of course was attending rehearsals; several hours a week for those who were in almost every scene. It was surprising to see the scale of what could be achieved in what was still limited time (there can never be enough rehearsal time for any production!). The speed at which most people were able to memorise lines and choreography as directed was seriously impressive. Also, as

difficult as it is to achieve, it was astonishing how well members of the cast could recall everything that had been rehearsed in months of preparation as time got closer to the show. Generally speaking, the cast were equally able to perform what had been rehearsed two days or two months prior. Learning lines and cues outside of rehearsal is a daunting prospect when putting on any stage production, especially one so long and with so much subtle detail. However, everyone still rose to the challenge and, by around Christmas, many of the cast were completely off script, which is an achievement in itself. This meant that in rehearsals, Mrs Ashley and Mr Zeal were able to focus on directing performance, using all the time available most effectively. In such a short time frame, the quality of the stage production produced as a result of their directing and dedication was astonishing.

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Of course, one of the most essential elements of performing any of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s works is the music. Outside of the acting rehearsals, everyone spent a commendable amount of time learning songs, both solo and chorus lines in many cases, in music rehearsals led by Mrs Stoten. The results of this were phenomenal, especially given that Article written by Liam Fleet y12

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As the final production approached, I think the hardest aspect to perfect was consistently getting the transitions between the scenes executed smoothly. The most effective way of rehearsing any stage production is chronologically, with the scenes in isolation - one rehearsal corresponding to one scene. Mrs Ashley and Mr Zeal helped the cast to get each individual scene polished to a high standard quickly, allowing for sufficient time to practise, perfect and rehearse the transitions in context. With such a large number of people, it is a considerable challenge for everyone to be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time - again, an element of production that appears deceptively simple.

at the start of the production, there was a completely mixed range of vocal ability, which barely showed once we reached opening night due to the individual practice that people had done. Once again, it was this level of dedication that was so encouraging to see and eventually allowed for the amazing final result. The other aspect of the music that I thought was particularly impressive was that the accompanying and incidental music played by the band was entirely performed and rehearsed by students. Henry Linton in year 13 did a mind-blowingly good job of conducting and directing the band’s rehearsals, as well as conducting and playing keys simultaneously during the performances themselves. The result was an extremely tight band producing some excellent music for the play. Overall, School of Rock was an enjoyable, educational and rewarding project to be a part of, which really pushed everyone involved to the best of their ability, resulting in three final performances of the highest level. A huge thank you to all of the staff and students involved - I’m already looking forward to next year’s Marling production!

eSports in a school F

ormed in early 2019, Matador Gaming is an eSports organisation that is dedicated to trying to involve the next generation in not just the playing of eSports but also the production and technology behind it. We have been behind countless new developments in the eSports scene in order to try and make streaming and playing eSports more accessible and easier to do. The whole organisation encompasses many different branches of eSports, from the actual playing, with our Rocket League and Overwatch teams representing us on the highest stages, to the shoutcasting and hosting of our streams and competitions. The key thing about Matador Gaming is that in partnership with Marling School we have created a system that is not only almost entirely run by students, but that is also on the cutting edge of streaming technology. During the year we have also worked on

podcasts which include a game and film podcast and a mental health and debating podcast, all run within our production studio. All podcasts are available on Spotify.

What have we done this year?

In school Overwatch To kick off the year we joined a national Overwatch tournament run by Digital Schoolhouse, an organisation which aims to promote computing within a studentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s education. To enter this tournament we required a team of three players. To find these individuals we started a tournament within the school with 24 teams competing and many more people involved including team managers, production and tournament organisers. Streaming and production During tournaments students come together in our media studio to broadcast the events live to twitch, a popular streaming platform. The team consists of visual engineers, audio engineers, directors, tournament organisers and shoutcasters. We have organised multiple tournaments including Overwatch, Rocket League and

Clash Royale. We believe we broadcast at a professional level with custom animation designed by Billy Arthur and custom overlays displaying stats on screen developed and coded by Scott Hiett. The streams include gameplay commentated by shoutcasters and introduced and filled by a host. During the year we have grown exponentially and hope for this to continue into 2020. We started our production on a single laptop with headsets. This has slowly developed with much support to multiple studio microphones, a professional mixer and a couple of powerful PCs. Merch and brand At the start of the year we entered the Digital Schoolhouse tournament and in order to do this we created a new brand. After many meetings we came up with Matador Gaming and hired a designer to create a logo.This brand has now led to the development of a website (Scott Hiett againâ&#x20AC;Ś) mtd-gaming.uk We then contacted a clothing company - mantee.gg - who developed customised esports kit, including jerseys, jackets and hoodies. manatee.gg/collections/ matador-gaming

Photo below: The Gfinity arena

Regionals For the first round of the Digital Schoolhouse we took our winning team from the school tournament to Bristol. We had one girl in our team, which made us stand out from the rest as eSports is a heavily male-dominant industry. She did a number of interviews, which hopefully inspired more girls to have a go at eSports. Our team dominated the regionals and came out undefeated to move onto the national finals. Gfinity The final of the tournament took place at Gfinity arena in London. Unfortunately we did not win, but we had an incredible experience. A key highlight was witnessing the professional production teams at work because it inspired our own production. We were also incredibly lucky to meet industry professionals who gave talks on the rapidly growing eSports industry.

which involved professional panelists judging the talented competition. Scott Hiett was an exceptional shoutcaster who presented with lots of energy and knowledge of the game and won the prize for the best shoutcaster.

against other schools. The final will then take place at gaming convention Insomnia.

British eSports Association next year We are joining the British eSports Association next year alongside many other schools from around the country. This is a highly competitive league in which all players will compete every Wednesday after school

During the tournament a separate shoutcasting competition took place Article written by Isaac Powell y12

Sam Thompson y11 Matty Cohen y11

Credits 2018-19 team Student Managing Editor: Ewan Davie Student Design Editor: Harry Gloyn Staff Editor: Louise Harris

Articles and Submissions Cover: Matty Cohen 500 words competitions

Year 7: Paul Westoby, Alfie Nicholls

Year 8: Edward Cross, Lucas Persaud

Year 9: Freddie Turner, Alfie Arthur

Making Dear Lady Death: Tom Meadley Lessons through a lens: Billy Arthur Working together to change the world: Marc Boixader Riera, Raphael Morter Inspirational CERN: written by Harry Gloyn Photography by Alex Nunn School of Rock: Liam Fleet Matador Gaming, eSports in a school: Isaac Powell

We reserve the right to edit any work or images submitted. Views expressed are those of the individual authors.