Moving Images

A couple of years ago, this was a CA title so I prepared this. The idea was to rewrite a memorable scene from a film.

Enjoy!

 

There Could Only Be One

[Based on the final fight scenes in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2].

 

The battle had been raging for some time and the castle was now lying in ruins. Gone were the majestic looking turrets that had always stood there, tall and empowering to every student that had ever graced the hallowed halls of the school. And now, even in ruins, it still managed to command awe and majesty to those who considered it their home.

            This was school. This was home. This was a place of safety and now it had been attacked, assaulted by the one powerful force that everyone knew could prevail over good and defeat everyone once and for all. The thought this was horrendous to even consider so those who stood on the side of good took their stand with the teachers of the school against the Lord of all evil, Lord Voldemort.

            He had made his way inside the castle by this time, Nagini by his side, his trusted snake and was busily fighting with Harry a duel that would ultimately take one of them to their deaths. And even with all the melee going on around them, he strove forward, relentlessly chasing Harry through the corridors of the castle, mocking his inability to stand up to him, toying with his prey like a cat with a mouse.

            It was then that the young man, who had risen from the little boy of eleven to the strapping young man of 18 decided that enough was enough and made his move. Screaming a blood curdling shout of anger he attacked Voldemort from a full frontal position and was blasted back thirty feet back into the grounds of the school. The shock wave that hit him knocked him out, momentarily. But this was not the end, not for this man, for he was determined to fulfil one task and nothing was going to stop him.

            As Harry and Voldemort exchanged blows with each other, sending spells and sparks from their wands into each other, the quiet rebellion began. Nagini, tracking Harry, slithered and crept down the main staircase towards Hermione, who stood there, transfixed, horror in her eyes. What she did not realise at that time was that her saviour, the one who would save them all, was just emerging from out of the blackness of his unconscious state.

            Neville rose, looked about him and all the rubble and fixed his eyes on one thing, the sword of Gryffindor. And true to form, the sword was to reveal itself to the one who deserved it the most. And as Harry and Voldemort fought in a tumbling, towering cascade of arms and legs, falling relentlessly to the ground, everything went quiet in the courtyard, until the two wizards exchanged their final attack on each other.

            Suddenly, just as Nagini was beginning to reappear into the courtyard to attack Harry, a tall figure leapt out of the shadows, sword in hand, taking one powerful swing and severing the head of the snake in one blow. As he did so, the last horcrux that Voldemort had made had been destroyed and this left Harry with only one course of action, to finish off Voldemort for good. As their wands exchanged their force, the elder wand flew out of Voldemort’s hands and landed in Harry’s hand and Voldemort disintegrated before Harry’s eyes, never to be able to return to haunt or to destroy.

            The deaths of his father and mother had been avenged but it still left a dull feeling of unfinished business. The one person on the other hand, who did feel the best at this point, quite content with his actions on this day, was the hero of the hour, Neville Longbottom. There could only be one to fulfil the prophecy; neither Harry nor Voldemort could kill each other, but there was one who had also tasted death at such a tender age he was to be the one who would ultimately triumph.

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Write about the place where you live in two ways; the first as if you love it and the latter as if you loathe it.

As part of an original writing coursework, I asked the students I teach to write about the place where they live in two ways; the first as if you love it and the latter as if you loathe it. This is my exemplar!

 

York has to be one of the most fashionable, trendy and beautiful places that exist on God’s glorious earth. As a resident there myself, I feel immensely privileged and marvel at the magnificent thought that if you was to say to me ten years ago that in ten years I would be living here, I would laugh in your face. From the very centre, itself bestowed with an array of olde worlde buildings in The Shambles to the glimmering glory of the shopping centre itself, it radiates beauty as you travel further outwards. It is a mixture of leafy suburbs, with clean, precise roads, where drivers drive carefully and thoughtfully, merged with tinier inner city suburbs that share row to row, two up, two down tenements of pure class and beauty. It is quite simply, the best place to live in this wide earth!

 

***

 

York! What a place! How people can think of living here is beyond my comprehension, unless of course, you are past the age of 65 and middle class in your ways. Oh boy, what a travesty of social class divides York really is, or more precisely, as the locals call it, “Yark!” It is one of those places that once you visit, you say, “never again.” And you mean it for the roads are covered in litter. The drains keep overflowing, bringing forth the stench of days of rotting human waste. The only thing that makes it a place of interest is the Minster itself, and that is as old and dilapidated as its residents. Take my advice folks, stay away from York, for you never know just what you might catch if you visit this travesty of tourism!

 

Link

MACBETH

When we begin Macbeth in a few weeks, this is the film we are watching. Nicol Williamson is just fantastic as the Thane of Glamis.

Watch and enjoy.

Write about a television show you either love or loathe

Earlier, I added on here a rant at a television show to show you how to write one. Here is something that took me 15 minutes to type up, to show you the opposite, with a tinge of a moan at modern television and its makers. 

Enjoy.

 

 

Write about a television show you either love or loathe

I am in mourning today as I say a sad farewell to one of the most beautiful women in television history. When I was but a young pup of a lad, she was the one thing that brightened my week for me with that winning smile and her gorgeous hair. How she could keep that look going into the oncoming years was something that I have often wondered.

Who am I writing about, you are thinking, and what television show did she belong to? Well, I will answer the last question first. The name of the television show was The Champions and for the totally uninitiated, and shame on you for being so, it was a British espionage, sci-fi, cult television show of the late 1960s.

It was aired from 1968 to 1969 and in total, had 30 episodes to its belt. By today’s standards, that is not much when you think NCIS is now on its tenth series with twenty four episodes or so in each series, but this one show, The Champions, changed my life forever, for it introduced me to the sultry and stylish actress by the name of Alexandra Bastedo. She was and forever will be, my siren of the air waves, my champion of sixties fashion and looks, the epitome of everything female and lovely.

She made that show come alive every time she spoke, every time she shot a sideways glance, or even looked at the camera straight on and this heart melted on the spot. I was in love with two women at the same time; my primary school teacher Mrs Lawton and Alexandra Bastedo. No-one ever came close to matching either of them, so the ladies of form 5 had no chance. I was a lost in every way with this delightful lady.

And then there was the show itself. It was not just because of her that I was fascinated by The Champions, although that must have played a very large part. No, it was down to the story lines, the acting, the camera angles and the stories themselves, challenging us to think in new and scientific ways. Now, I think television is dire, a sorry and sad example of what has gone before it. Now we have to put up with talent shows from people who have no talent at all. If you want to see talent, get on youtube or on DVD and take a look at Ms Bastedo and The Champions. It is in a class all on its own.

With her co-stars Stuart Damon and William Gaunt, this was far in advance of anything I have ever seen before or since, and I am a Trekkie at heart, a fan of the Sci-fi, the thrillers, the supernatural films and the Hammer Horrors; the old ones, not the terrible things that exist nowadays and pay the wages of Harry Potter stars.

No, this television show had it all. It had beauty, it had style, it beat James Bond into a cocked hat and it was simply stunning to behold. I have always wanted to go to Geneva just to see that water fountain if it still exists, just to get a photo of me by the side of it, in true 60s pose. It is a pity I have the physique of the television thug rather than the suave style and shape of Messrs Damon and Gaunt, but I can dream. I can imagine my way onto the set and into the arms of Ms Bastedo, as I look longingly into those lovely eyes.

Ah well, true love never wanes I suppose, and so, I come back from my fantasies and back to the world of reality and to the television of today. And I wonder, will there ever be another television show like The Champions? Will they ever have the utmost nerve and temerity to try and do a remake? If they do, this boy is going to chain himself to the railings outside the BBC, or whichever channel does it, to complain at the antics of television producers who have run out of ideas.

You cannot make perfect that which is already, by definition, perfect. I think The Champions and Alexandra Bastedo are the epitome of that word and I say farewell my love, farewell and sleep in eternal arms, for you entertained us all and brightened our otherwise dull days by your very presence.

Cloze Procedure – In The Nursery

The Woman in Black is a _ _ _ _ _ _ _ written by Susan Hill that tells the story of Arthur Kipps, a young _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ who is sent by his firm to Crythin Gifford, to attend the funeral of Mrs Alice Drablow. Whilst he is there he sees a mysterious _ _ _ _ _ dressed in black, who haunts him at every _ _ _ _. He sees her in the graveyard at the funeral, in Mrs Drablow’s house and on the marshes surrounding the _ _ _ _ _.

On one _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ he hears a strange bumping sound coming from a room upstairs when he is alone and sorting through papers belonging to Mrs Drablow. He hears them because he has a dog with him who _ _ _ _ _ _ him to the noise and the _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ of it. As the dog, who is called _ _ _ _ _ _, becomes agitated, so too does Kipps, to the point where he cannot move because he is experiencing so much _ _ _ _. In that chapter, _ _ _ _ _ and the reader are taken on a _ _ _ _ _ _ coaster ride of fearful emotions, resulting in an unsatisfactory ending to the chapter.

The novella is a well _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ and well written piece of English _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ and one that is aimed at children. It has been _ _ _ _ _ _ _ into a stage play upon its release as a _ _ _ _ and into two films, one from the BBC and the other by _ _ _ _ _ _ Films.

Words

structured                Hammer                      Kipps                           fear              Spider

alerts                       strangeness                occasion                      book

novella                    woman                        house                          literature

roller                       turn                             adapted                      solicitor

Coursework 5

In one of the controlled assessments you will [or may] do this year, you will be asked to write about a television programme you either love or loathe [hate]. 

Here is my example on how you could write it. Note: if you are a CHAV, stop reading now! Only kidding!

 

Write about a television programme you either love or loathe.

I have never been that much of a fan of television, unless it has been when watching the science fiction classics like Star Trek, Doctor Who or the Tomorrow People in the 1970s, so when I consider just what the BBC and the other channels are doing to mainstream television in this present day and age, I cringe and wonder where the legacy of Lord Reith has gone to.

Indeed, back in 1995 when I sat my final year examinations in my degree, I was given an exam question that involved me writing an essay predicting where mainstream television would go and develop in the years to come. Starting with Lord Reith, I detailed the ways in which television had developed and prophesied that pay as you view would undoubtedly be the way forward in the future, once the television license is scrapped.

So now, when I look back nearly twenty years later, I see programmes like Strictly Come Dancing and the dreaded X Factor and Britain’s Got Talent and I wonder just what has happened. I know the answer before I continue any further, for mainstream television caters for the mass of public out there who have nothing better to do than just be the couch potato and sit in front of the television, pacifying themselves with the dross that is on. I mean, come on folks, the adverts are far better and far more entertaining than the programmes nowadays.

Take the X Factor for example. I used to watch it when we had a television and sit there and judge these lame individuals. I even went as far, once [and only] of auditioning for Britain’s Got Talent, where when asked about my “act” I wrote down that I would come on stage dressed in a gold shiny frock, with a black wig on [and a hairy chest], singing Shirley Bassey’s “Goldfinger” at the top of my voice, rather like the singer “Divine” from the 80s or 90s, whichever it was. Such was my dislike of these shows that I thought I would show them up for what they are; chav fodder. I was given the chance to audition but was spared two weeks before by a car accident that smashed me to pieces. Praise the Lord for small mercies!

The X Factor! That is a joke in itself. The programme name demands the question to be asked if you have the X factor when you go on. And by God, some of those Neanderthals that go on there are three cucumber slices short of a good sandwich for heaven’s sake. You take one look at them and think a complete travesty of nasty thoughts; and this they call mass entertainment? Simon Cowell has this country over a barrel every time it comes on.

Now some people out there in couch potato land think it is “cool” and okay to vote for these people. They spend their own money texting in to these shows to say they want a certain person to go through to round two. How ridiculous is that? Has there ever been a show like this one for complete idiocy in the viewing public? I doubt it very much!

On come a variety of individuals who are seeking their fifteen minutes of fame and they prance about and parade themselves around like Babe the pig on amphetamines, in the hope that you will love them. What a load of old shoemakers, and that is me being polite now.

And who do you think is the one loving every second of this? Yes, you have it right, the main lover in all this charade is none other than Mr Simon Cowell, who sits back and just watches the money come rolling in. The X Factor – I ask you, who in their right minds would watch such drivel? Oh yes, the answer is you!

But there is a light at the end of the tunnel folks, for there is a way to silence this malady of the British and worldwide mind and that is by using the red button and silencing the elephant once and for all. You have the chance to put an end to this rubbish. Just like the voting that takes place on this utterly ridiculous programme, you have the chance to put an end to Cow Eel’s moronic smirking face – the way is simple, just turn him and his drivel off. But do not just use the red button once; do it again and again until you get to the point where like me, you say “ditch the telly” and then you find that you have more free time with your family in an evening!

Go on, you know you want to!

 

798 words [ inside the 10% over limits set by AQA]

MACBETH

How much do you know about the Shakespeare play, Macbeth?

If you are to study this, then my suggestion is to do some research and write 250 words saying what the story is about. Try to keep to the word count as well. It will be good research for you prior to beginning the study of the Bard’s play. 

My students will begin this in a matter of weeks, so you will be able to see resources and ideas here.