Creative & Cultural

St Peter’s Challenge

Senior Competition

The Christmas term saw the welcome return of the ever popular St Peter’s Challenge competition. Each week, pairs of houses competed against each other, answering an array of general knowledge questions. It was very obvious from the start of the competition that this would be tightly-fought – and that its growth in popularity quickly moved us out of classrooms and into the arena that was the Lecture Theatre and Mr Smith’s lab!

After fi ve rounds we had reached the semi-fi nals where Queen’s took on Temple, and Linton played School. After impressive displays of knowledge and quick buzzer skills we saw Queen’s and Linton progress to the fi nal, where Queen’s were victorious, winning by 580 to 230. Congratulations to the Queen’s team and to all involved in the competition. This is a superb house event and is always an impressive display of our pupils’ general knowledge and their wonderful house spirit!

A huge thank-you to all who took part, helped out and came along to support!

Staff versus Monitors

The end of term brought with it the entertainment that is the Staff versus Monitors match. The Monitors put up a very strong team of Alistair Duffey, Patrick Litten, Ben Turvill and Helen Megone but they were defeated 360-160 by the staff ‘dream team’ of Mrs Lawrence, Mrs Dawson, Mr Gwilliam and Mr Vann. Thank-you to all involved – and a special thanks to Mr Lawrence for writing the questions.

Junior Competition

In the summer term it was the turn of the third and form forms to display their talents in the junior competition. Once again we witnessed some superb matches, displaying our wonderful house spirit and the breadth of our pupils’ knowledge.

The semi-fi nals and fi nal were much anticipated (as we had to wait until Exploration Week and exam week were over to conclude the competition). The fi nal was played out in the last week of term on a very hot Tuesday lunchtime. We saw very impressive teams from The Grove and Temple battle it out with The Grove winning 270 to 110.

The interest and participation in this competition is a credit to the school as all houses managed to get many of their third and fourth form involved (many teams swapped players each week to allow many students to participate). It not only displays a great house spirit but also shows off the diverse (and numerous) talents of our pupils.

Mrs Ella Mallard

National Schools’ Challenge Competition

St Peter’s entered the National Challenge competition for the second time this year. This general knowledge quiz competition has been running since 1978 and attracts entrants from across the UK. And this was certainly our most exciting and successful year yet …

The fi rst round of the competition saw the team of Patrick Litten, Edward Kettleborough, Jack Lawrence and Daniel Hicks travel to Ripon to play Ripon Grammar School. In a thrilling game the team won by a score of 760-740, with the match coming down to the very last starter question: ‘Where was the Prophet Muhammad born?’ This was correctly answered by our captain, Patrick. This drew the scores level and answering two bonus questions before the gong gave us the narrow victory. The answer, of course, was Mecca.

St Peter’s School then travelled to Lincolnshire where the team of Edward Kettleborough (captain), Luis Fox, Daniel Hicks and Rebecca Dowson played King Edward VI Grammar School, Louth. St Peter’s team had a rather slow start but then began to wake up and get into their stride. It was a tense competition with the teams on 370 points each with fi ve minutes to go. But then with a string of starter questions and full bonuses awarded to our team, they fi nished the game in spectacular style (570-490) to progress into the regional fi nals of the Schools’ Challenge Competition. Thankfully we didn’t have to travel far for the Northern fi nal as the match between St Peter’s and Wingfi eld Academy, Rotherham was held in the Memorial Hall at St Peter’s. Home support certainly helped our team to a 700-530 win as they were against formidable opponents who were so quick on their buzzers that we had to rely on stealing bonus questions to clinch victory.

This win gave us the Northern Challenge prize and led us into the national semi-fi nals where we played Calday Grange Grammar School from the Wirral to decide who would go through to the national fi nal. Unfortunately our winning streak came to an end in this competition; after a close-fought match, Calday Grammar edged a win with 720 points to our 650.

This was the furthest we have progressed in this competition and was a superb achievement. Our team had the breadth of knowledge necessary to impress and my thanks go to all who participated, for offering what was always an entertaining, informative and nail-biting half hour of general knowledge quizzing. My thanks also go to Mr Lawrence for all his help and support (and for travelling all the way to Liverpool). And congratulations go to all pupils involved in the competition this term.

Mrs Ella Mallard

Creative & Cultural Drama

Guys and Dolls

With music and lyrics by Frank Loesser and fi rst premiered in 1950, this great Broadway show is still ranked amongst the most popular musicals and we were delighted to stage a full production here at the end of November 2014. Based on short stories by Damon Runyon written in the 1920s and 1930s, the musical is set in New York and tells the tale of the underground gambling scene of that period.

With a large cast, crew and orchestral players drawn from the student body of the school, we had over fi fty pupils involved overall to help bring this project to life. The early part of our production run was mostly focused on the musical numbers, and we were very fortunate to secure the help of choreographer Hayley del Sanderson, which allowed us to incorporate some slick dance routines and involve the whole cast in these at times. Both Mr Wright and Mr Spencer provided me with welcome support, running simultaneous rehearsals of various groups each week, allowing us to learn the music quickly and effi ciently.

Miss Lindley’s direction had already been characterising and enlivening the musical numbers during the fi rst half of term, and she then set about linking the dialogue and action into the musical numbers in earnest after half-term, with help from Mr

Miller. It was at that point that the cast fully realised the size of the task in hand, with a fi rst act of an hour and 15 minutes and a second act of 45 minutes to learn and raise to performance standard.

The week before the show a fantastic set appeared designed by Miss Lindley and Miss Burns, our new technical director, which transformed the Memorial Hall into a proper theatre space. The show also benefited greatly from a first-class lighting rig, created and run by Miss Burns, and the most advanced sound set-up we have used so far operated by Mr Wright, assisted by Lizzie Whiter. This gave the whole cast a huge lift and started the excitement that was to flow into the performances in the following week.

From the first night to the last, the whole company worked as a team to deliver a highly entertaining production. The cast had reached a really good understanding of the play and was able to communicate the ropey ‘jokes’ and questionable plot, which is underpinned by the casual sexism typical of that era, so that the large audiences were comfortable and able to laugh generously at the sentiment of the lines, rather than with them. The musical numbers were also enriched by a 17-piece orchestra, composed of students, academic staff and visiting music teachers, which brought a warm sound-world to the show. Mr Spencer, as he has done on so many productions, supported my musical direction from the piano at the heart of this ensemble.

There were some fine individual performances. Ben Turvill as Sky Masterson acted and sang with an assured presence opposite Rosalind Tait’s well-judged, naive Sarah Brown. Emily Brown as Adelaide linked all the physical, vocal and ‘psychological’ elements of her character together to powerful effect opposite Toby McGill’s smooth Nathan Detroit. The mischievous trio of Sam Lightwing as Nicely, Nicely, Peter Gray as Benny Southstreet and Max McLeish as Rusty Charlie delighted the audience with some hilarious scenes and tuneful singing, with Sam’s Sit down, you’re rocking the boat being a highlight of the production. There were also other memorable solo numbers from Emily Mahon as Mimi, Pippa Martin in the Havana scene and Charlie Widdicombe as Arvide Abernathy. The larger-than-life gambling characters of Harry the Horse and Big Jule were skilfully played by Duncan Smith and Phil Hodgson, and Emma Walker as the General and Will Hartley as Lieutenant Brannigan both gave strong performances in their supporting roles.

It was, though, very much a team effort, and congratulations should go to all the cast - Hot Box dancers, the Salvation Army and the Gamblers, as well as to our director Miss Lindley, on a highly successful production. My thanks also to the crew, led by Jodi Smith and supported by Mrs Heaton and Mrs Bewers, for their work in creating flow and momentum in the performances and finally to Mrs Appleby for tireless work in the box office and at front of house throughout the run.

Mr Paul Miles-Kingston

Shakespeare Schools’ Festival: Hamlet

The Play’s the Thing

Twenty-four pupils performed a 30-minute version of Hamlet at the Joseph Rowntree Theatre in York in October, presenting their work alongside that of three other schools, as part of the Shakespeare Schools’ Festival. This was the third time we have taken part; it is an excellent opportunity to get experience of working in a professional theatre, to meet people in the industry and to see other shortened Shakespeare plays.

The talented ensemble worked incredibly well together to produce a stunning and slick performance. The festival coordinator congratulated the cast on the clarity, volume and expression of their lines as well as their focus and commitment to telling the story. Marcus Thompson (fourth form) delivered a mature and heartfelt performance as Hamlet, absolutely secure in his understanding of the difficult text and with a huge range to capture the emotional journey the character goes through. Claudius (Spencer Ingall) was a calculated and manipulative villain with a conscience, Gertrude (Amelia Bell) was an emotionally unstable, grieving woman with a position in society to maintain, Polonia (Maddie Hunter) was a fierce and independent single mother and Ophelia (Charlotte Hollinrake) was the naive troubled teen whose drowning sequence was visually haunting. Laertes (Toby Johnston) returned with fury for the charged three bouts at the end, choreographed by a professional fight director from Ting Tang theatre company.

The festival coordinator also congratulated Louise Gould and Emily McDonald, who underscored the production with a live soundtrack they had chosen themselves. She said she knew The X Factor was happening at the moment, but she thought the best singers were on stage in St Peter’s Hamlet!

Charles Barry opened the play as the director giving Hamlet’s advice to his players: he said they should ‘hold as ‘twere, the mirror up to nature’ and I think this was one of the play’s huge successes; the actors made the text their own and the events real for the audience. What makes it even more incredible is that they achieved this in such a short rehearsal time.

National Theatre Connections: Remote

National Theatre Connections is a nationwide festival which gives pupils the experience of engaging with brand-new writing and performing in a professional theatre. This year’s play was Remote, a fantastic new script by British playwright, Stef Smith, about a girl called Antler (Maddie Day) who steps out of her front door and throws her phone on the ground. She stamps on it. She then climbs the tallest tree in the park. She doesn’t

want to be found, not by anyone. The play sees the lives of seven teenagers intertwine over the course of a single evening. Desk (Charles Barry) has lost his glove and Oil (Marcus Dobson) has lost his girlfriend. Blister (Nathan Goyea) and Skin (Kitty Clapham) terrorise whomever they meet in the park and Crystal

(Lucy Butters) is unfortunate enough to run into them. However Finn (Martha Horner) is brave enough to stand up against her former friends. What makes the play particularly special is the importance of the ensemble in allowing us into the conscience of the characters as they narrate their journeys.

Twenty-three pupils formed the cast and crew for this production. Lauren Moir made her debut as Stage Manager and worked on the set with Miss Burns. Our partner venue was the Stephen Joseph Theatre in Scarborough where the production was performed in April. We had an excellent two days in Scarborough doing the technical rehearsals, watching other plays and completing a workshop. We still found time to eat fish and chips and ice-cream on the beach in the rain.

Middle School Plays

Since so many fantastic pupils auditioned for the middle school play, the Drama department wanted to embark on a project that allowed the cast to get their teeth into a play and a character. So, instead of one play, thirty-eight pupils became the cast of four playlets, directed by Miss Lindley, Mr Miller and Mrs Wright. We named the collection Folie à Quatre as all four plays presented teenagers who gang together to victimise an individual, and behave collectively in a way they would not alone; sharing the ‘madness’.

A-Level

In A2 Drama and Theatre Studies pupils have the task of working collaboratively to create a unique and original piece of theatre in response to a stimulus or published play. The two performances 57 Minutes and Down to a Sunless Sea were both imagined and devised by the performers themselves.

57 Minutes by Lily Spencer, Anna Thrussell and Emma Walker was a moving piece of theatre focused on the events of 7/7: 2015 marks the tenth anniversary of this tragic day. The title refers to the time over which the four bombs were detonated. The group transformed the drama studio into a tube carriage with the audience sitting in traverse in an intimate space, and the actors as commuters, in close proximity, often sat amongst them. Verbatim text from three survivors was delivered with sincerity and truth reminding the audience this was real life. As the group researched personal accounts of the day they found many references to chance reasons why the commuters were or were not on those particular trains. They used this idea to expertly craft the structure of the play, allowing the audience to determine the order of the scenes by chance whilst the performance was happening. This was a brave and successful venture, giving each performance a live organic feel and challenging the conventions of theatre.

Down to a Sunless Sea by Emily Brown, Phil Hodgson and Duncan Smith was a relevant and provocative piece of new writing by the group themselves. It used the notorious holiday destination

of Kavos as a vehicle to explore the alcohol abuse endemic in ‘Britain abroad’, when social rules and self-respect are seemingly exchanged for indulgent rights of alcohol and shameless fornication. The play followed three teenagers on one such night, as they learned the ultimate consequences of unbridled freedom. In a quick turnaround the drama studio was transformed into a nightclub, complete with strobes and a live DJ to immerse the audience in the atmosphere. The text of Down to a Sunless Sea was raucously funny and silently sad, it was vulgar and poetic. The talented three actors made the audience think, whether they were teachers, parents or pupils and I genuinely believe - from the post-show discussion – that the play may well make a difference to future teenage holidays in a positive way.

Look Up

Three groups used a video on YouTube called Look Up by Gary Turk as stimulus to create some devised performances. Look Up is a spoken word film for an online generation.

This media we call social, is anything but when we open our computers, and it’s our doors we shut – Gary Turk

GCSE

In April 2015 the GCSE pupils performed a quartet of plays for a full audience, including a visiting external examiner.

100

Eve Bracken, Sophie Gill, Toby Johnston, Sam Lightwing, Tansi Marshall

Four characters in ‘the void’ were asked to choose a memory from their lives by The Guide. They were told they would relive this memory for eternity, so it was a very important decision.

Anonymous

Louise Gould, Gabrielle Richardson, Rowan Tait

This play was devised and written by the group themselves. It was inspired by our theatre trip to Gecko’s play Missing and the book The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat by neurologist Oliver Sachs. It was a case-study of three patients suffering from mental illnesses: amnesia, obsessive compulsive disorder and depression. We saw the conditions from the point of view of the patient, the doctor, and family or friends.

Dissocia

Charles Dunn, Tom Dowdy, Beth Hartley

The Wonderful World of Dissocia by Anthony Neilson is originally a full-length play with 27 characters altogether. The group adapted the text to fit the examination brief. It follows the protagonist Lisa in her real world and her also into her invented world of Dissocia.

Watch Me Vanish

Amelia Bell, Eleanor Caley, Edith Norvor, Esme Wright

This play was imagined and put together by the group themselves. It largely used the text from Sarah Kane’s 4:48 Psychosis with some from Crave to examine the psychological state of the playwright herself. Sadly 4:48 Psychosis was Sarah Kane’s final play, as she committed suicide in 1999 before the play was actually performed. The play was revolutionary at this time as it was written without characters, plot or stage directions. The group used this freedom within the text to create a unique piece of theatre.

Miss Helen Lindley

Design and Technology Awards 2015

The annual exhibition of work from GCSE and A-level Design and Technology pupils from St Peter’s School took place on Monday 4 May in the Whitestone Gallery.

The projects on display were judged, and the awards presented, by Mr Mike Dawson, Head of Design and Technology at St Peter’s School up until 2007.

Work on display included projects influenced by other cultures, MP3 speaker-units, self-assembly products, LED lighting, and five individual projects from the A2 pupils, each identifying their own project brief.

Awards

Patrick Hayes (fifth form):

A commendation for his MP3 speakers made from veneered plywood and acrylic.

Daniel Kondratiev (fifth form):

A commendation for his coffee-table made from American whitewood and shaped plywood forms.

Olivia Whitehouse (fifth form):

Cordwainers’ Prize for Design, for her African-inspired seating. New this year, the prize was gifted by Mr David Hobman, Master Cordwainer 2013-14. The Company of Cordwainers is one of the seven York Guilds and Companies still in existence.

Oliver Harvey (lower sixth):

An Innovation Award for his LED desk light.

Tom McCullagh (upper sixth):

Minster Engineering Award for his adjustable desk, designed to fit with the style of the Apple range of computers.

Hannah Whitehouse (upper sixth):

Dawson Award for Outstanding achievement. The starting point for Hannah’s project was a visit to York Hospital’s Child Development Centre. Children’s physiotherapist Katie Graver identified the need for a piece of equipment to assist young children to learn to use the stairs, and particularly those with cerebral palsy or post-operative rehabilitation.

Hannah presented her project at the regional Inspirations Competition at Elvington Air Museum on 25 June, where she received four awards, including the Merchant Adventurers’ Post-16 Challenge Award for the project with the greatest potential to ‘take to market’. Hannah has been invited to the National Big Bang Competition at the National Exhibition Centre in Birmingham next March.

Mr Jon Whitehouse

Music

Autumn Concert

Our first major concert of the academic year was held just before the October half-term break, with a wide variety of our ensembles involved, including the Chapel and Chamber Choirs, the Clarinet Choir, the Guitar Group, both Junior and Senior String Quartets, the Boys’ Barbershop, the Wind Band and the Swing Band.

An audience of around 200 enjoyed a range of ensemble repertoire from the Magnificat in G by Sumsion to Two Dances by Granados and there were also solo songs by Gurney sung beautifully by George Pindar, Jack McCartney and Charlie Widdicombe. The Chamber Choir was in very fine form, singing a spiritual, My Soul’s Been Anchored in the Lord, arranged by Moses Hogan, directed by Keith Wright, and the Barbershop also sang well in an arrangement of Randy Newman’s Dayton, Ohio by the King’s Singers. The Guitar Group as always played with real delicacy and poise in an intricate Andante by Leonhard von Call and both String Quartets produced some lovely sounds. The Wind Band was under the direction of our new Head of Instrumental Music, Dr Iain Harrison, and provided a rousing start to the second half with a concert march by Osterling and the Mancini classic Baby Elephant Walk. The Swing Band closed the evening with a punchy arrangement of Stevie Wonder’s driving 70s funk song, I Wish.

Evensong in York Minster

The Chapel Choir sang a lovely Evensong service in York Minster on 17 November. Beginning with the bouncy, early baroque Responses by Ayleward, the choir continued into Psalm 89, producing some beautiful phrasing. The canticles were Sumsion’s lyrical Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis in G with the arch-shaped lines evoking the geography of the Malvern Hills, where the composer lived and worked. The highlight of the service was though perhaps the dramatic rendition of Balfour Gardiner’s Evening Hymn, a grand composition in a late Romantic style, that allowed the choir to demonstrate their rich sound. We were as ever supported by Mr Wright’s assured accompaniment on the organ throughout.

It is always a pleasure to be in our ‘home’ Cathedral, and to continue the long historical association between our two institutions.

Christmas Concerts

We enjoyed lots of festive music in these two concerts, with a range of ensembles playing a wide variety of repertoire. The Wind Band set the tone with their Christmas at the movies and Sleigh Ride. This was followed by a complete performance of the Christmas Concerto by Corelli from the String Orchestra, which provided a lovely contrast and allowed some of our players an opportunity to take on solo parts.

The second half started with an atmospheric rendition of Rubbra’s two Christmas songs, A hymn to the Virgin and Jesukin with our Head Girl, Sally Hicks, singing beautifully accompanied by Lily Kirkby and Felicity Edwards on the harp.

We then moved into full ‘cabaret’ mode with the Boys’ Barbershop and the Barbieshop performing arrangements of well-known Christmas pop classics, such as Rockin’ around the Christmas tree and Santa Baby. It was good to see all three numbers in the boys’ set arranged by members of the group. Mrs Blood’s Flute Group showed great promise, with many middle-school players involved, and the Swing Band swung through Winter Wonderland and Let it Snow with some fine improvised solos. To finish, the School Choir performed an extended medley of music from the hit Disney film Frozen and our Head Boy, Ben Turvill, delighted the audience with a cameo appearance as the snowman ‘Olaf’. Perhaps not the highlight of Ben’s notable dramatic career so far, but certainly a contrast to his Sky Masterson in Guys and Dolls the previous week!

It was a fun evening and my thanks to all the staff and pupils involved.

Carol Service

It was a lovely service this year in the Minster, even though it was once again a chilly one! Rosie McLeish (third form, Queen’s) delivered a poised solo first verse of Once in Royal David’s City to start the service, and our three choirs went on to sing well throughout.

Highlights included a well-phrased performance of A Tender Shoot by Goldschmidt from the Chamber Choir, and a memorable baritone solo in The Three Kings by Cornelius from our Head Boy Chorister, Charlie Widdicombe.

The Brass Ensemble provided their customary strong support to the congregational hymn singing, and Mr Wright kept us all on track with his assured playing on the organ. Our students and staff also read their lessons with real clarity as we re-visited the timeless story of Christmas.

Senior Music Festival

The pupils produced some lovely performances in the festival this year, with many highlights. We heard 97 individual performances in the rounds before half-term and 30 were put through into the fi nals.

We welcomed Dr Alasdair Jamieson as our adjudicator, who teaches in the Music Department at Durham University and has been conductor of York Opera for 25 years and York Symphony Orchestra for the past 10 years. He spoke with authority and humour in his feedback to the pupils and commented afterwards on the ‘formidable standard of playing and singing that was a credit to the school’. Even more important though was the warm atmosphere in the hall, with many parents, staff and pupils clearly enjoying all the playing and providing the performers with a supportive platform throughout the evening.

The winners of the categories were as follows: Tuned Percussion Alistair Duffey (xylophone) Guitar Joshua Ramalingam Woodwind Stephanie Frankland (alto saxophone), with Libby Brown (clarinet) highly commended Girls’ Singing Rosalind Tait, with Jemima Jordan highly commended Brass Max McLeish (trombone), with Edmund Meredith Clark (horn) highly commended Drum Kit Min Lee

Strings Max McLeish (cello), with Jack McCartney (violin) highly commended

Boys’ Singing Sam Lightwing, with Charlie Widdicombe and Peter Gray highly commended

Piano George Pindar

The winner of the Senior Music Festival Prize for 2015 was Stephanie Frankland for a virtuosic performance of Pequeña Czarda by Petro Itturalde.

Choral Society Concert

Mr Paul Miles-Kingston

Evensong in St Paul’s Cathedral

On Monday 9 March, the Chapel Choir travelled to London to sing Evensong at St Paul’s Cathedral, London and although we found ourselves walking in circles around King’s Cross we arrived early at the cathedral. After a short rehearsal we were lucky enough to go up to the Whispering Gallery and then, for those of us who had a head for heights, we went right up to the Golden Gallery. After scaling at least 200 steps, we were greeted by a mesmerising view overlooking the city. The relief on Mr Miles-Kingston’s face was clear when we all safely returned to ground level!

Evensong was a resounding success: particular highlights were the Magnifi cat and Nunc dimittis from the Fourth Service by Batten (a former Organist of St Paul’s) a committed performance; of Henry Purcell’s anthem Remember not, Lord, our offences; and managing to cope with the eight-second acoustic! Having received many positive comments, we were rewarded with a trip to Pizza Express. Our thanks go to the teachers who successfully managed to supervise 53 students through the busy streets of London and special thanks should, of course, go to Mr Miles-Kingston and Mr Wright for their superb conducting and organ-playing.

Charlie Widdicombe and Sally Hicks, UVI This year we gathered at the Central Hall of the University of York for our annual choral and orchestral concert in March. The Wind Band provided an upbeat start with the rousing English Folksong Suite by Vaughan Williams, directed by Dr Harrison. This arrangement of various well-known English folk melodies gave the band plenty of opportunity to express themselves with a wide dynamic range and many enjoyable moments. Following this, Libby Brown produced some beautiful solo playing in Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto, supported by the String Orchestra and directed by Mr Wright. Libby had put in many months of hard work to learn the entire concerto and this was a memorable performance, blending technical wizardry with warm, lyrical phrasing.

The second half involved the School Choir and our Choral Society: around 220 voices in all. The Mozart Missa brevis in F, written when the composer was only 18, was sung with plenty of bounce and agility by such a large choir and the solo quartet of Sally Hicks, Fenella Hayes, Will Hartley and Charlie Widdicombe produced some lovely sounds. Vivaldi’s famous Gloria then closed the concert, with both the choir and soloists really enjoying this well-written masterwork and singing with vibrancy and elegance. Particular mention should be made of the accomplished singing of Fleur Booth in her duet with Mrs Goodson and the beautiful cello playing of Max McLeish in several movements.

Mr Paul Miles-Kingston

… and a pupil’s view:

It was a tremendous privilege to be part of such a wonderful musical menagerie as that which St Peter’s put on in the University of York’s Central Hall on Tuesday 24 March 2015.

The Wind Band started proceedings with their wonderfully evocative and ebullient rendition of Ralph Vaughan Williams’ English Folk Song Suite which was conducted in an appropriately energetic style by Dr Harrison. The joyful image of our ‘green and present land’ was realised for all.

However, the eagleeyed amongst the audience members would have noticed that Libby Brown, the Head of Wind Band, was not present during their performance. Rather she was preparing for her tour de force performance of Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto. Half an hour peeled away as the audience feasted blissfully upon the aesthetic utopia of Mozart’s transcendent genius with Libby, as clarinet soloist, as our conduit. Her spellbinding, preternatural performance was a veritable pageant of musical technical fluidity. Never was a bouquet of flowers more deserved!

We then moved on to another Mozart piece, his Missa brevis in F. This being Mozart, ‘brevis’ is a term that must be used ambiguously to describe around half an hour of devotional music composed at the tender age of 18. It is a piece full of the joys and tribulations of youth, and we had four accomplished young people as our soloists: soprano Sally Hicks, alto Fenella Hayes, tenor William Hartley and bass Charlie Widdecombe. The reward of such an opportunity was richly deserved by these four upper- sixth formers who, throughout their musical careers at St Peter’s, have shown the greatest dedication to the art form. They displayed a great range of skills, lavishing both the solo and soli lines and co-ordinating with one another, the school choir and the orchestra wonderfully.

Indeed, the large pieces involving the St Peter’s School Choir and Choral Society were a wonderful exhibition of the plethora of musical talents at our school. The singers excelled themselves with committed and rousing performances of the Missa brevis, and Vivaldi’s famous Gloria. They were supported in both by a reduced orchestra of highly skilled pupils and teachers and in the latter by another round of soloists. Fleur Booth responded heroically to what was essentially an eleventh-hour call-up by Mr Miles-Kingston to sing the second soprano in the Laudamus te movement of the

Gloria. Miss Judith Cunnold, on the fi rst soprano solo line, and Miss Laura Baldwin (who also responded heroically at the last minute) as the alto complemented each other marvellously and brought fantastic professional technical expertise to Vivaldi’s masterpiece.

The concert was, therefore, of a very high standard with our Peterite performers keeping up with the professionals, and profi ting from the experience of sharing the stage with learned artists. Great thanks must of course go to Mr Miles-Kingston, Mr Wright and Mrs Appleby for their tireless efforts in making the concert such an artistic and logistical success. The concert was, of course, only a brief tableau of the marvellous music making that fl ourishes all through the year at St Peter’s, and which manifests itself in such wonderful displays as this concert precisely because of their stewardship. They gave all the upper-sixth performers, and particularly the soloists, a wonderful experience by which to commemorate their musical careers at the school.

Benedict Turvill, UVI

Junior Music Festival

This was an enjoyable evening of music-making with an appreciative audience of parents, friends and staff. Our adjudicator this year was Gareth Green, formerly Director of Music at QEGS, Wakefi eld, and a senior ABRSM examiner. He gave both positive and constructive feedback for the pupils, highlighting commendable features of each performance and also offering thoughts on how the playing or singing could be taken to the next level.

The winners of the categories were as follows:

Piano Felicity Edwards, with Anthony Lam highly commended

Girls’ Singing Isabella Crook, with Rosie McLeish highly commended

Brass Jack Hargrave (trombone)

Harp Felicity Edwards

Woodwind Phoebe Hall (fl ute)

Boys’ Singing Alexander Leahy

Strings Rosie McLeish (viola)

The winner of the Junior Music Festival Prize for the outstanding performance of the evening went to Isabella Crook for her beautiful interpretation of Fauré’s Après un Rêve in the girls’ singing class.

Cabaret Concerts

I had such a good time directing the show this year. Although the lack of rehearsal time is always a bit hairraising, I was fortunate to have a very talented group of upper sixth-form soloists who were really focused and had good suggestions for repertoire from the outset. With a mixture of principals from Guys and Dolls and established soloists from our concert programme, their combined established soloists from our concert programme, their combined experience was never going to let us down. The Swing Band had also been working really hard throughout the year on fi ne

detail, picking up on elements of articulation and style, and this showed in their confident and assured individual items and their accompaniments.

The Memorial Hall was absolutely packed on both nights. We were treated to some well-known swing charts with various soloists, featuring the popular songs Beyond the Sea, The Lady is a Tramp, Feeling Good and Minnie the Moocher, an audience participation number led by our Head Boy, Ben Turvill. This worked very well in contrast to the atmospheric, slower ballads supported by students and staff on the piano, or with the rhythm section only, with the songs Skinny Love, Feels like Home, Like a Star and I Can’t Make you Love Me. There was then a combination of the two styles in Saving all my Love for You. It was also a pleasure to feature the instrumental charts Sing, Sing, Sing and The Shadow of your Smile with solo drumming and solo saxophone playing respectively.

The Little Big Band and Chamber Choir were in entertaining form, and the Barbieshop set was a particular highlight with some really tight ensemble singing and strong solo performances. I was delighted to see the Barbershop sing the original song Cold Stranger, composed especially for the occasion with music by Max McLeish and Charlie Widdicombe and words by Ben Turvill. Before the boys’ set, the audience also really enjoyed the impromptu item I Wanna be like You performed and rehearsed entirely by the pupils involved.

However, for me the most memorable moments of the evening were the School Choir’s performances of songs from The Sound of Music, marking the 50th anniversary of the film and providing

an emotional farewell to Mrs Jane Dawson, who is retiring this year and has been such a support to the Music School during her long career in the school.

As always my thanks to all the staff who helped me on the show, especially the full-time Music team of Keith Wright, Iain Harrison and Jo Appleby and my colleagues David Spencer, Sara Burns, Mark Edwards, Richard Myhill and of course Mrs M-K!’

Instrumental and Singing Examinations

This has been another strong year for our instrumentalists and singers in their public examinations. We congratulate the following on achieving these successes at the highest level, Grade 8: We also had a wonderful success for a new lower sixth former in her DipABRSM diploma examination: Stephanie Frankland passed her saxophone performance with distinction.

Jack McCartney Piano Ellie Richardson Trumpet Sarah Willis Singing Will Hartley Singing Merit

Will Hartley Trumpet Merit

Sally Hicks Clarinet Merit

Sally Hicks Piano Merit

Will Kimpson Saxophone Merit Sam Lightwing Clarinet Merit Josh Ramalingam Guitar Merit Katherine Spencer Piano Merit Helen Taylor Piano Merit Ben Turvill Saxophone Merit Robbie Brown Trumpet Distinction

Peter Gray Bassoon Distinction

Jemima Jordan Singing Distinction George Pindar Singing Distinction Anna Stephens Clarinet Distinction Charlie Widdicombe Piano Distinction

Commemoration Service

We were again in the majestic surroundings of York Minster for our service this year. The Brass Ensemble played a wide range of repertoire before the service, which they were later to perform on tour in Chartres Cathedral and St Sulpice, Paris. The Chamber Choir then began with Palestrina’s beautiful motet, Tu es Petrus, sung from the West End. Both the School and Chapel Choirs contributed canticles to the service and the Chapel Choir’s performance of Henry Balfour Gardiner’s Evening Hymn was a highlight.

We welcomed Professor Sarah-Jayne Blakemore as our speaker this year. Professor Blakemore is a leading authority on the connection between neuroscience and education and gave a fascinating address about the adolescent brain, its development and the ability to continue learning. The Head Master also delivered a speech on this year’s achievements and pupils and staff read lessons and led prayers.

Mr Paul Miles-Kingston

Creative Writing

The English Department: in and out of the classroom

There was a distinctly Gothic feel to our trips out and about at the start of the year. We started with Dracula: the ballet. Yes – vampires in tights, which did a great deal to kick-start enthusiasm for studying the genre and the production underpinned some of the key Gothic tropes we were set to explore for the rest of the year without a great deal of subtlety! We then visited Haworth and were given a fascinating insight into Brontë life by the education department’s wonderful tutor. It was, happily, a misty, damp and suitably Wuthering Heights type of day, with Toby Latham dealing admirably with slippery Victorian cobblestones whilst on crutches. As draining for him but slightly more cosmopolitan was our trip to London, where we visited the Terror and Wonder exhibition at the British Library (the actual draft of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, complete with marginal notes by Percy Bysshe Shelley) and then on to the National Gallery where our expert-in-transit Mr Hall gave us a fantastic lecture on Gothic art, standing in front of the seminal works The Fighting Temeraire and An Experiment on a Bird in the Air Pump. Back to York, then, to see the National Theatre’s version of Frankenstein beamed into the cinema, with Benedict Cumberbatch as the creature and Jonny Lee Miller as an excessive, over-excitable Victor Frankenstein. Less Gothic but as edifying was a visit to see Andrew Motion speak at Bootham School, as part of the York ISSP scheme, and we welcomed poet Shash Trevett to speak, both at one of Keystone magazine’s regular Tuesday meetings and also as part of the York Literature Festival. In conjunction with the library, we welcomed acclaimed young adult author Anthony McGowan, Carnegie Medal short-lister and creator of The Knife that Killed Me, made into a recent film.

This leads us nicely on to our creative writing section. The first few extracts were born of the creative writing workshop led by Anthony McGowan: opening paragraphs with one of his own (true) stories as stimulus material. The question we faced: did he or did he not shoot the dog with the crossbow?

We were gods. We carried death. Yesterday will always be scratched into our minds. ‘You did this, you fix it,’ kept replaying to me. How could I ever forget those large

brown eyes and the almost silent whimper? Charles Barry, IV

The crossbow feels heavy. It’s a crucifix capable of the most sinful of sins. Chris and I have dreamt of a moment such as this. Finally, the power of such a destructive weapon is the

push of a finger away from death itself. Jack Lawrence, IV

The air was filled with a sense of opportunity, a sense of wonder and yet something also seemed indifferent about that day. The dew lay calm on the grass. We trampled naively through the dense greenery and death crept closer and closer.

Jack Williams, IV

Chris walks away from his friend. His hands are cold and wet against the weighted metal crossbow, the moisture a result of the cool morning mist condensing on his fevered, panicked

body. Or maybe it’s the blood. Maddie Day, IV

The Creative Writing Competition this year was launched as a voluntary activity but also as a curriculum initiative, with all year-groups involved in one way or another. Below is a sample of a range of work, some with a common stimulus and some completely unique. The winners of each category were invited to share their writing in Chapel and they did so with great composure. We look forward to even greater participation next year.

Cold Control

Although it hasn’t snowed since, I can still effortlessly visualise last winter like it had only just passed. What I remember the most was waking up a few mornings to a delicate glimpse of sunlight which shone through the crack in my emotionless curtains and melted the icicles that formed when the sun had done its day of work from the day before.

I usually spent my mornings outside, either plodding through the piled-up snow piles which were like mountains, or occasionally trying to clear the deserted roads from the evening blizzards which occurred far too frequently. However, I stepped outside one frosty morning to see what the weather witch had left for us, even though I wasn’t expecting anything new and then the silence hit me like a snowball in the face. Drip! Drop! The only sound that was to be heard was of the melting snow drops that had built up around the front door frame. Painfully, the frosty air pierced my skin like an elusive pinprick as I stepped further into the sheet of snow. Describing each morning as a surprise was irrelevant last winter because I knew that I would wake up to the same view every day. The trees were deprived of life. They lost their ability to dance and sway. Sadly, their life-like characteristics vanished.

I pressed my warm cheeks against the icy glass and peered out to the ghostly world. Nothing. No cars or humans dared to destroy the blizzard’s perfect, fresh new blanket. I only saw shapes of orange contours which were silhouetting the inside lights of all my neighbours’ houses. My house smelt of friendly reassurance.

Maddie Hunter, IV

Changing Rooms

The river smokes in the glacial air. A lone boat breaks the tranquil surface, cutting through the veneer of thin ice. Deep under the water the last leaf of autumn is entombed, its auburn tones divide the black abyss. A fragile shell of a tree casts a shadow by the dim orange glow of a nearby streetlamp. Only this disobeys the sombre atmosphere. Thin layers of mud and grass gasp from within the frost, when the ancient pulse of germ and birth is crushed by the cold’s harsh touch. Even if winter for the most part restrains nature around it, as if it had been put on pause, in itself it flourishes; crystal-like snowflakes dance in the dense air to embrace all they rest on, each dainty particle caressing the face of Mother Nature.

When the chill confronts my coat, the downy softness of it neutralises the argument. The sharp freeze nibbles on my fingertips with affection like soft kisses. Only my eyes can be seen: the rest encompassed by cloth and leather. Then the crunch from my enraged boots echoes throughout, and gives away my location. Down by the river it is destitute, only the stars to watch me, and by their side the moon, revealing every danger that dares to hide. Behind me looms the boathouse, with its metal shutters plastered with illegible sprays. The harsh brick is painful to look at as it stares at you. Such a rugged building but the slope towards it gives it a kind of importance only understood by those willing to gaze inside. An inward breath burns the hairs that line my nose; the intensity forces a tear from my eye, warming the flesh it streams onto.

Stepping into the changing rooms with others like myself, a wave of steam and a potent odour constrict my airways. Just lines of crammed girls with bare flesh pink from the change in temperature, in a frenzy to escape the claustrophobic atmosphere now created by the sudden intake of other cold souls, scream to be heard over the raucous din. Items of clothing strew the floor, each one as petite as the next. A vest limply hangs on a peg abandoned by its owner long ago, searches to belong. In the corner stands a hockey-stick bearing her battle scars, each one a memory of its own. It seems that puddles of sweat line the foreheads of many of the girls, beads rolling down and dripping off their protruding chins.

Warm bites at my frozen fingers and leaves a sting that is paralyzing.

Louise Gould, V

The Beach

As I approached the beach I could see the golden glow of the sand hitting everything with a bright spectacular show of light. People the size of ants threw themselves against the booming, crashing waves only to be spat out again a few seconds later. A sweet chatter of people drifted through the fresh sea-sprayed air and the shore whispered quietly, unnoticeably beneath the quiet giggles and cries of the ant-like people. As I got closer the colours of the ocean danced and skipped, hovered and gleamed on the sea surface. The sunlight glinted on the warm welcoming sea hypnotically, like thousands of tiny little stars lying calmly across the colours of the universe. The warm salty air squirmed around in my sun-dried throat. I could feel the beach’s warm breath squeeze through the gaps in my hands, making my hair stand on end. The palm trees were the most welcoming family members, waving melodically and warmly through the exhausted air. Kids tripped and stumbled through the rolling windswept dunes trying to run away from their playful friends. Sun rays burst through the amber clouds falling down onto the unsuspecting public. The beaten, battered gulls circled the sky, blocking out the sun in a mess of feathers, scouring the ground for a potential target. Seagulls fought each other in a messy array of clashing greys.

As I reached the beach, the soft chatter of children became a mixture of screams, cries, whoops and cheers, but still those gentle whispers from that honey-glazed shore droned on beneath the rabble.

Chris Nelson, IV

Shelter from the storm

Raindrops race the grey sky, On a bitter and tiresome gale, Forming clods of dark and sodden mud, That fill your boots like pails.

Your feet ache on as bound up piles, Of cold and faltering meat; Sobriety held by wistful dreams, Of a cosy place to sleep.

The path you wander forks and snakes, Like an endless family tree, But for all imagination’s sake, A destination can’t be seen; Till a rock, masked by trodden tufts Of wet and slippery grass, Has you fall and crack your skull In a grave and humourless farce.

The darkness of your ringing head Drinks in pearlescent scenes, Of days you danced beside a girl, Steeped in sunlight’s precious beams, Who, as you croak a groggy yawn, And tremble, gasping, to your feet, Crowns the hilltop, like sweet dawn, Beaming, naked, from the east. She beseeches you a sorry hand, Amidst the hail and sleet, And bestows to you, on her soft breast, A long unbroken sleep.

Duncan Smith, UVI

MIDDLE SCHOOL HIGHLY COMMENDED:

Afterglow (extract)

The midsummer sun was just kissing the horizon, casting a display of magnificently piercing colours across the evening sky, an abstract painting of crimson, violet, fuchsia, and coral. It was windy, although not an unpleasant, biting wind; it was more of a soft, balmy breeze that just hung in the air. A gentle melody was playing out of the car radio. I reached out, turned a dial to raise the volume and hummed along as the shore came clearer into my view. There was a lack of cars on the road and people on the sand, which I put down to the fact that not many people wanted to be at the beach on a Monday evening, with the exception of my friends and me and a handful of dog walkers.

The overpowering scent of salty, sea air became apparent as I jumped out of the now-stationary car and stared at the skyline. Ant-like boats were dotted across the sea, voyaging towards the horizon, causing me to stop and wonder where their destination was. The mass of brilliantly blue water tumbled onto the sand over and over. It was hypnotising. Seagulls squawked over my head, snapping me back to reality. Directly in front of me, the stone steps beckoned. Taking a breath, I ran until I felt the hot sand underfoot, pursuing my two friends, following them down to where they were attempting to construct a tent with great difficulty. I chuckled. Understandably, they had set up far from the shoreline, to prevent the tide from seizing us into the unfamiliar depths of the ocean. When the tent had been put up and a bonfire started, we finally were able to sit down and enjoy the tranquility of the waves whispering to the sand.

Wishing for a few moments alone, I withdrew from the campsite and wandered towards the oceanfront, only stopping when I felt waves crashing onto my skin. The coolness of the water contradicted the heat of the humid summer air. Memories of my childhood drifted into my mind, when I used to come to this very beach. Running across the sand, giggling; building what, at the time, seemed to be glorious palaces of sand, fit for a king, but probably looked more like mounds of dirt. I grinned. From what could remember, it was never an exceptionally busy beach, but I had always preferred it that way. It felt freer with less people; more open; more limitless. Like there were no boundaries …

India Reilly, IV

O Conto da Cara Bruxa (extract)

The fleshy, stinking fumes instantly escaped from my onceuntouched face. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. I crashed dramatically to the damp, uncomforting sand and did not attempt to rise, but once the horrifying aroma of my magically scorched face diminished, with all my efforts, I arose. The world around me was a deathly black. ‘It must be midnight,’ I thought and therefore returned to the mould that my injured body formed in the beach.

Then I remembered.

Today’s events flashed with great horror and inexplicable eagerness through my mind; flicking from image to image at high speed; each scene the seedling of a different emotion, yet the most common: fury. She had induced this outrage. She had induced this suffering. She had caused my blindness. I had realized that the darkness of the night was false and that it was in fact my broken sight that accompanied my singed features. Thus, this warm daylight hid from my vision but I could still sense her presence

‘Do you not fight back? Or is it that you are too feeble? What is the matter, sister? Does my presence frighten you? Dare leak those salty tears and I shall rip them from those ducts just as I ripped those pathetic features from your sickening face!’

She was touching me. I felt her sharp, square-toed boot poke me in the side. I did not budge.

‘Wake from your lazy slumber! How could you ever be marked better tha –‘

Before she could finish her satanic words, the third witch was no longer.

I changed that day. I looked an easy target. Now, however, I was the unsuspected suspect – I was indeed the stronger one. Everyone said I was.

Lucy Dabbs, IV

MIDDLE SCHOOL WINNER:

Nwiloedd (extract)

‘Fair is foul and foul is fair, Hover through the fog and filthy air…’

Griff never really liked sunny days. He prefers ‘bad’ weather: rain, grey skies, howling winds. They always seem so much more dynamic.

As Griff steps out of the house, he breathes a sigh of contentment. It’s foggy. nwiloedd, as his ma insists on calling it, sticking to her Welsh roots. All he can see is ten feet of muddy ground ahead of him, and then a bank of impenetrable white, covering the rest of his sight. He can’t even see the looming silhouettes of the hills, though he knows they must be there. All is shifting blankness and changing shadows. The world around him drops away, and only he remains. He loves fog. It’s so peaceful and calm.

After a moment to collect his thoughts, Griff sets off again for the top field. It was quite windy last night and the gate might’ve blown open, and he can’t have the sheep running away. Aeron refused to come with him ‘though, and just lay down by the door instead, which is odd. He usually jumps at the chance to go out. Perhaps he’s just spooked by the fog. Dogs get frightened by the simplest of things. Anyway, today feels special. There’s something about this morning, something in the air, a smell Griff can’t place. Adventure, maybe?

Under his feet, the sodden ground gives way to rocky hillside, dotted with tussocks of hardy grass. As he ascends the slope, half walking, half scrambling, he listens to the sounds or rather, the silence of the valley behind him. The fog seems to block everything, muting and softening the usual rumble of traffic far below. Even the sheep, lost somewhere in the white, keep quiet as if they know something miraculous is going to happen. Griff shakes himself.

No, nothing is going to happen. Stop being such a dreamer!

He’s always like that, ‘though, always with his head stuck in the clouds, always away, imagining some great personal feat. His mind meanders like a stream flowing through a vast plain and –

Stop it! Concentrate!

But you’re not doing anything now. You have time to dream.

And so, Griff lets his mind wander as he nears the top gate. Ideas and thoughts wander aimlessly through his head. He almost trips over the body.

Griff stands, shocked. He lies, dead. The world reels in a silence so profound it hurts his head. Questions race across his mind:

Who is he? How did he get here? Is he really dead?

His eyes travel over the corpse, from the worn hiking boots, up to his muddy torso, to his bearded, scraggly face and then back down to his throat, which had been ripped open. Yes, he is definitely dead. The smell, the stench, which Griff realizes is not adventure but instead blood and rotting flesh overpowers him. He turns away and is sick. The acid taste burns. He is dizzy, light-headed, fainting …

Jack Hargrave, IV

UPPER SCHOOL HIGHLY COMMENDED:

The Bus Station (extract)

I trailed through the bleary dusk as the faint light succumbed to the impending darkness. Night was falling, ushering in drops of rain which transformed into sheets when the wind felt like urging it on. Perfect. The bus station was in sight now; I could see the pathetic light which was flickering spasmodically from the ceiling. Lugging my sagging suitcase behind me, I made for the door.

I creaked the grimy glass door open, allowing icy winds to surge through and disrupt the single member unfortunate enough already to be sitting in the dark, damp and dusty room. Bright, brash letters glared menacingly at me from what seemed to be an electric bus timetable. I almost laughed. What would they think of next? DELAY. One innocent word evoking so many feelings of despair. Sighing at the predictable bad luck that hovered over me, I slumped into a sticky seat. This was not ideal. You would be surprised at how devastating the conditions of the hut were compared to that modern encroachment; it stuck out like an authentic Irish accent in a Guiness beer advert.

50 minutes to go.

My eyes wandered up to the ceiling where unscreened, flicking lights buzzed and hummed in contradiction with each other. Dingy, black paint was gradually peeling off the ceiling like scabs off an old wound and I couldn’t decide if the tiles, encrusted with filth, were the result of mingling odours of sour breath merged with leakages trailing from the roof or a perfunctory attempt to clean the once crystal white squares with cold water. Loud posters ambushed the walls; slapped on in haphazard ways to casually warn us that we probably have cancer. The irony of the placement of health warnings in what was probably the most highly populated place for microscopic bacteria made me smile. I could feel them seething and swarming beneath my seat: a human’s disregarded gum, a bacteria’s dream.

20 minutes to go.

I was almost pleased when the old lady strutted into the room as quietly as an electric saw meeting a 15th century oak knot. Her hot-pink, kitten heels struck a rhythmic tattoo onto the greasy lino floor. At least it was something new. As she perched on the edge of the cleanest looking seat, a dishevelled look became fixed onto her face. She gave me a smile which was all lipstick and only one coat thick, her blonde hair had clearly come from a bottle and she was cadaverously thin. It was clear she has not aged well; her face looked like one of those wardrobe space-saving bags that had had all the air sucked out of it. When wafts of a cheap, fruity

odour came my way, I think I made my disgust clear.

Ten minutes to go.

I decided that the Antarctic conditions dwelling outside couldn’t possibly be as bad as being trapped in that shack so I ran to the door, challenging the torrents to stop me. The icy winds stung. I perched on one of the many vacant benches outside, letting the downpour flatten my hair and waited for the delightful ping of the delay sign finally giving in. In the dark. In the rain. In the cold.

Jessica Webster, V

UPPER SCHOOL WINNER:

Getting the Boot (extract)

The light blazes down on me, scorching my skin. The heat comes from many suns, lots of suns, all long and rectangular in shape. They are all my friends, and their light is more white than yellow, come to think of it, no, blue actually, yes, a harsh clinical blue, and one sun is blinking now, its fluorescence twitching in regular spasms, it’s becoming really annoying now, I wish it would stop –

My companion doesn’t seem to notice. I am attached to him with a piece of black elastic, bound for as long as I can remember. He has skin, like me, and it is a deep mahogany colour. He also has a long stitch running all the way up his body: it looks like a very tidy stitch, I notice, a long line of lattice. I wonder what I look like. I wonder if I look like him –

My word, someone is touching me. They’re picking me up; the suns look all the more blinding from this angle, their lights become distorted and askew as I’m manhandled before being dropped on the floor with a feeble plop –

Come to think of it, I was hoping to make a more resounding noise than just a plop. More of a bang, or a crack, or a –

Zzzziiip. Someone is ripping open my companion, the lattice being torn apart. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t retaliate, doesn’t fight back. I desperately try to call out for help, but no words come, I begin to panic and I want to scream but –

My companion is stitched back together, and relief washes over me. He looks so much better without that unsightly rip in his skin. But my frenzied alarm has no reason to subside; for I am now being carried to a blindingly shiny, white table, and I can see all my friends the suns reflected in its gleaming surface –

OK, I’ll just keep quiet. I won’t panic, I won’t say anything. Mind over matter. Breathe in for five seconds, out for five –

Before I can even take my first breath, I hear a loud beep and a red flash. Ouch, that hurt. I am being thrust into a plastic bag. Don’t these people know that I will suffocate? I can’t survive in here, amongst these hostile, noisy folds. This bag smells as well, a sweet, cloying smell that reminds me of newness –

I am squashed painfully under my companion. I desperately want out. I don’t even have a chance to complain before I meet a new lady who has been thrown into this crinkling, rustling prison. She says her name is Receipt, and I see that she is white and papery and covered in symbols. I see the words ‘leather’ (what’s ‘leather’?) and ‘like us on Facebook’ (well, I certainly will not like you, because you have put me in this plastic bag and I want to get out now) –

I’ve been still for quite a while now, save for the odd bump. It’s been a nice rest after all that anarchy. It’s very dark without my sunny friends though. Receipt’s been very quiet as well. God, I’m bored. Also, there’s been an incessant rumbling sound to go with this all this jiggly wiggly movement I’ve been experiencing, so it’s not been a completely relaxing rest but hey, you can’t have everything –

Spoke too soon. I can feel the plastic prison heaving and swaying, no, please stop, I already feel a bit nauseous –

Voices. I can hear voices. That was a good bargain. I’ve never paid so little for a pair of boots. What’s a boot?

Am I the boot?

Concetta Scrimshaw, LVI

And finally, overall winner of the competition and therefore of the Skrentny Creative Writing prize and the Poetry Prize, awarded at Commemoration, is Ben Turvill. Here are two poems from a comprehensive collection written over his years at school.

Sonnet 1

I see the snow light glowing from your hair. There is no beauty, not in all of space Of form or character that can compare. Amid the ruckus, the decay, the race That endless stretches in disordered life I find my universe’s rest in you. You are my healing antidote to strife, And gleaming temple of my knowledge true That love in you is beautiful, secure; A force that’s passionate, a great force free, But glorified and noble, true and pure The love that you through love inspire in me. Let us, oh love, enshrine our lives in gold, That we shall never die, together growing old.

In Memoriam Seamus Heaney 1939-2013

I see you crafting poems ripened in the earth. I watch you hone them down, remove all ugly growths That fall so beautiful as shavings cut and skinned from this organic and sustaining ball of life.

Such love and care of craft at knife or pen: Potatoes shaping into poems and arts Served up for teaming mouths in hope of peace. The mouths of generations yet to come.

Excuse my snatching hands, my teeth That bite and rip, devouring all Grown in the earth that you now feed: Those mud-stained hands, a face I cannot see.

Giles Jagger Vivian Ko

Upper and Lower Sixth

Chloe Burdass

Emily Brown

Katie Harrison Abdul Yahaya Concetta Scrimshaw

Alice Appleby Lauren Caley

Upper and Lower Sixth

Ilana Bartlett Isabel Hall

Hannah Whitehouse Xanthe Cook

Lucy Galloway Oliver Harvey

Charlotte Rose

Upper Sixth Photography