Belhaven Stories
In the style of Mr. Townshend's 'A Belhaven Hill Nativity', Form 3c English came up with their own stories, but on any theme they liked, where they incorporated as many names connected with the school as possible. Here are the three best:
Lambing by Amy Thomlinson.
Lambing is a hard time with long, pitch black nights. This year the four most important sheep are lambing and there will be hard, long and exciting nights.
Every teatime my mum will cookson hot food. I told my mum,
“Just get a MacDonalds.”
“Carly will be one of the first to lamb,” barlowed Nicole across the shed.
“Check on that one,” said dad. “I don’t know watson she’s doing. We all went in, we were getting too cold. Sam had cut up some fire woodd, and a big flame lit up the fire.
That’ll keep us warm and farr away from the cold,” announced mum.
My dad questioned, “how many pet lambs are there?”
I answered, “I’m so glad, stone of us will have to go back out in case we have a lamber. As Nicole went out she let Cassie, our Jack Russell out and she got all muddy in a pooley of mud. We put Cassie into the house and went back out. Nicole and I said to a couple of lambs, “be warre of the foxes.” The grass was white with frost.
“I wish it were greener.” Nicole said.
“And warmer,” I said. The sheep were begging for hay.
My dad shouted, “get another baillie Sam. The next morning I had to wake- up and go check the fields.
“Quick!” shouted Nicole “it’s Carly!”
“What’s the matter?” I answered. I looked at the miracle that had just been born.
“One more Thomlinson.” Let’s go inside and get some towels.” We ran through the hall and up the stairs and on the way back we slid down the banisters. I’ll go check on the rest…we’ve got another.
“Who is it?” Nicole questioned.
“It’s Chewa!” I answered. More and more lambed and we all got weiry. “Let’s go put more lambs out.” We walked across the ditch and fell in a brooke on the way back. “Is that it finished?”
“ No – just one more.”
“Who?”
“Maggie! Check her!”
“She’s fine,” Nicole answered. As soon as we turned round, there it was – a little lamb. We cleared the face and the noise subsided.
“I’m so tired.”
“At least they all survived.”
A Trip To The Seaside by Jock Begg.
Let’s go to the seaside where it’s not flamein’ mad. We’ll walk down the rhodes to the sea barlow the school.
The sea’s bluey-greeny and the sand’s all soft. All the children rushed down the hall, followed by balling teachers.
“Watson?” asked a little boy, when all the other pupils were farr away, down the road towards the beach. “Wait for me!!!!!” he begged.
Meanwhile two children were playing in a pooley, splashing around.
“This is boring!” said a small girl. “I’m going to walker-munro!” dewering a splash around.
Some kids were heading towards the sea with woodden surf boards and even catching waves whilst standing up.
“Guys!” shouted a particular girl. “I’m hungry, let’s go to MacDonald’s.” Another girl said, “don’t tully me what to do! I think we should get someone to cook sonthing, how about that?” Everyone monodded in agreement.
The sky was slowly turning from white to black and the school was ferr and everyone was tired after a long day on the beach, but even so everyone was staying the night.
During that night everyone was acting weird. Too meynell people were walking around, and when they finally settled down, everyone huddlestoned together to get warrem. Everyone was longing to get back to school, up the red stairs, hands on the bannisters and get to dorm. Some people even wanted to order currys.
“I wish I could seymour in the dark, I’m scared!” said a Form 5 girl, hopping around from foot to foot.
“You’re a wee gladstone jumping around like that, SETTLE DOWN!” bellowed a teacher.
The brooks running from the sea were now shining in the rising sun as the whole school was waking up at the traditional 7:30.
Worst Christmas Morning!! - Jemima Cookson.
I woke up, it was very black outside. I venters down stairs and said,
“Weir are all the presents?! The Christmas tree has gone as well!”
I heard a car coming along the rhodes, it was the cook’s son. When he came in he said “My mum’s, got stuck in a brooke and can’t get out!”
It was ten o’clock. Time for some breakfast.
“But who is going to cook the food?”
“I will,” said the son. “I am very keenan cooking.”
An hour later I saw some flames coming from the kitchen! I went in to seymour, then begged the cook to stop! He said he didn’t know how to light the arga so he made a fire in the middle of the floor out of wood and gladstones.
For breakfast I had burnt bacon and green eggs! Then there was a knock on the door.
“Watson earth is that!” I asked. I went to the door and saw a white box, I opened it and there was a big bouncy ball. I brought it in the hall for everybody to see. Then I picked it up and a Christmas tree came out and lots of presents too!
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