The Attack of the Mutant Vegetables in French by Barney CG

Posted in Writing we do at home

Je n’oublierai jamais le jour où nous avons découvert que nous n’étions pas seuls dans ce vaste univers. Une flotte d’environ 200 vaisseaux spatiaux a volé vers notre planète à une vitesse formidable. Quand ils étaient à environ 30 mètres au-dessus de la terre, ils ont tiré des lumières vertes sur tous les légumes et les fruits partout dans le monde. Il semblait que les légumes n’avaient pas été blessés au début, mais après que les aliens aient laissé des choses étranges ont commencé à se produire. Une femme s’est réveillée un matin et a découvert le jus de tomate partout, un vieil homme est venu à la maison du travail un jour et a trouvé sa porte du réfrigérateur bien ouverte et la nourriture sur le sol. Une foule de champignons assassins a attaché un enfant aux balustrades et a aspiré l’azote hors de lui. La police était déconcertée par ce qui arrivait aux gens de la terre et emprisait une bande de concombres meurtriers dans une boîte en titane, mais ce n’était pas utile. Au milieu de la nuit, les concombres ont brûlé un trou dans le cote et ont glissé. “Je veux plus d’azote!” Dit un concombre à un autre. “Ne vous inquiétez pas”, a-t-il répondu: “Nous recevrons bientôt les autres prisonniers”. Ils ont rampé dans les couloirs sombres et humides aux autres détenus. Quand ils ont atteint une porte verrouillée, ils ont simplement brûlé à travers elle. Quand ils atteignirent le dernier couloir, silhouetted contre la porte, se tenait un grand et puissant policier. Au fur et à mesure que les concombres se rapprochaient, ils remarquaient qu’il tenait un couteau dans une main et une fourchette dans l’autre. Il s’est penché et a poignardé la fourche à travers un des concombres. Un cri poussiéreux retentit dans les couloirs et le policier a tranché le concombre en deux, mais c’était une grosse erreur. Les deux moitiés de concombre ont sauté sur le visage de l’homme et ont sué l’azote hors de lui. Les légumes du monde entier ont commencé à attaquer les gens pour en retirer l’azote. Ils ont attaqué une ville à la fois jusqu’à ce qu’ils aient effacé la race humaine et qu’ils soient passés aux animaux. Quelques personnes ont survécu et se sont cachées dans leurs caves et ont vécu sur du pain et de la confiture, mais parce que la confiture est faite de fruits, les gens qui l’ont mangé ont eu l’azote aspiré. Après que toute la vie a été effacée sur terre, les extraterrestres sont retournés sur terre et ont ramassé tous les fruits et légumes et les ont emmenés dans leur station spatiale qui orbitait Saturne. Là, les fruits et les légumes ont donné l’azote aux aliens qui l’ont utilisé pour une expérience scientifique pour transformer le gaz sur Saturne en acide bleu.

The Secret Door by Barney CG

Posted in Writing we do at school

The Secret Door



Gradually, as I trudged along a snow covered path through the misty woods a clearing loomed into view. In the middle of it, I saw the outline of a rectangle form. I had been walking for ages and my warm furs weighed me down so much I could barely pull myself to the door. After struggling for about five minutes I eventually reached the lone door.

It had intricate carvings in the stonework surrounding it and the polished elm door had a huge lion door knocker set in the very centre. I reached out a hand to knock but then stopped and thought: What was a door doing in the middle of a forest? I made up my mind and swiftly pushed open the door and stepped through.

Then blackness…

I still don’t believe it now seven years after it happened. I woke up on a rocky path on the edge of a canyon and other than a few shrubby bushes and trees there was no living flora or fauna species. Unluckily, I was still in my warm furs, I checked my watch, it was a very expensive watch and it had changed to native time which was 15:13. The watch also had a thermometer on it as well as a barometer, an altimeter, a clock, a toothpick, some tweezers, a pen and a lot more. The temperature was +50°c. My furs raised the temperature by 20°c Standing on the edge of the canyon, I ripped off my furs and stared out over the desolate place I have appeared in. The sight was beautiful; it was like there were massive ant hills in a desert scattered all over the place. On the edge of the canyon stood a sign saying something like: When mules pass stand to the left of trail, follow mule guides instructions.

Smoothly, I slid down the canyon and into an ice cold lake. Something big and scaly swam past my feet. I shivered. Not because of the cold water but because of the creatures swimming past my body. Suddenly, a stabbing pain surged through my leg; I looked down at it and saw hundreds of tiny tooth marks in two semicircles on either side of my leg. At the bottom of the lake stood a peculiar rectangle. I swam down to examine it further. It looked identical to the one in the forest back at home; I opened it slowly, my lungs were beginning to burn, then I swam through the door.

I appeared in the forest again and retraced my steps along the snowy path, it had thawed a bit now but I was freezing because I didn’t have my furs anymore. I found the main road and on the left hand side stood our little farm house I opened the door and went in.
























Meeting Pip by Barney CG

Posted in Making Waves, Writing we do at school

I still remember the day when Pip Staffieri, surfing legend, first rode his behemothic surfboard. My memory isn’t perfect anymore, but I think it was when I was ten in the year 1938, when he made surfing history

Pip parked up his van on the seafront and as usual, there were already children waiting for one of pips famous 99 cones. They all pushed and shoved to get to the front of the queue. I ended up second to the front but when I got to the front, unexpectedly, Pip untied his apron, closed the ice-cream hatch and announced: “I’m terribly sorry children, I’m closing the shop.” I was amazed! I was flabbergasted! Not once in my life had Pip closed his shop in the middle of the day. He walked around to the back of the van and I heard him struggling with something. A few moments later, he pulled a huge plank of wood, like a coffin lid, on a trolley.

By this time, most of the other children had gone to play in the surf or to make sandcastles on the beach, but I was intrigued about what this ‘coffin lid’ was. Slowly, Pip wheeled the board down to the sea, dodging in and out of the sweaty, red holiday makers. When he reached the sea, he launched his titanic board and paddled out into the surf.

I was about to say a prayer for him when up Pip popped riding his board like a dolphin on its birthday. He then walked up the beach to his van and said: “Shops open again!” I got to the front of the queue and eventually got a luxurious ice-cream.


Spaceman Spiff Episode 5 by Barney CG

Posted in Spaceman Spiff, Writing we do at school

In the galaxy FA-18_SD Spaceman Spiff, interplanetery explorer, is searching for ailen life. He circles the nearest planet, maybe  planet  solook-4, and flies toward a hamyerow fighter ship. Spiff swerves to the left to avoid a laser from the fighter’s cannon and then turns back on himself and releases a cloud of smoke in front of the ugly, grey alien. It works! The ship turns back and flies home. Daringly, Spiff follows it to planet BX11-HUJ and watches it enter a cave on the planets surface.

A few moments later, Spiff follows, he sees the fighter parked inside and parks his little, red spaceship next to it. The incredible spaceman walks along the dark, damp corridors of the alien fortress trying to find any living beings. He opens a door and fits what he is looking for.A group of aliens is walking towards him and one of them says “Hello, what do you want.”

Spiff is caught prisoner and is sent to the dungeons by armed alien guards. Before the sluggish aliens can act, Spiff grabs his emergency atom blaster from his belt and zaps the slimy aliens and inflates his jetpack and flies to his spaceship and heads for earth without any trouble.

Woods Poem by Barney CG

Posted in Poetry, Writing we do at school

In the howling wind stands the old, derelict house,

The odd fox eats the odd mouse

Trees grow, rocks fall,

Vines creep up the rocky wall

Maggots chew through the rotting door,

And crawl along the leafy floor.

Gaping windows stare out into the open.

It stood there for one hundred years,

And will stay there one hundred more

Pipino Staffieri Biography by Barney CG

Posted in Biographical Writing, Making Waves, Writing we do at school

Pip Staffieri, said to be the godfather of surfing, was born in Lanherne Avenue on the 3rd August 1918 into an Italian family. His parents, Augustine Staffieri and Philippa Staffieri, moved to England to sell ice-cream at Cornish beaches.  Augustine died the year Pip was born so he was raised by his mother and then he had polio at the age of two. Despite this, Pip was a long distance swimmer and then at the age of twelve he joined a canoe group.

Pip sold ice-creams from a van to the tourists, and at the end of the day he would park up his van and go down to the beach to belly board on the waves. He was a skilled craftsman and when he was seventeen he saw two Hawaiian surfboards belonging to the legendary surfer Jimmy Dix and his wife on Towan Beach inspiring him to make one of his own. It was thirteen and a half feet long and was two-feet five wide and six inches thick. He made it with a bung in the nose so he could let the water out afterwards. Later on, after seeing a Hawaiian surfer in a magazine in his local dentist, Pip added a fin that was three feet long!

An American surfer brought the first ever fiberglass board to England in 1962, and gave it to Pip and then he was said to be the first English person to surf on a fiberglass board.

Sadly, on the 28th June Pip died peacefully in his sleep at eighty six years old and was cremated in the same place he was born. We will remember him as one of the first stand-up surfers in England.

Running Wild by Barney CG

Posted in Writing we do at school, WW2



Pippa Chapman lay in her bed, it was 4:15am, but she still was wide awake. Her dog, Flora, lay at her feet, her breath hot on Pippa’s legs. Without warning, the continuous wail of the air raid siren started. Pippa raced down the stairs, across the dining hall and out the front door. She met her granny (Granny Chapman) in the garden and raced to the London Underground.

On the way, Pippa was bustled this way and that and got separated from granny. “Granny!” she called out into the darkness “Oh granny! Granny Chapman!” No answer. She walked down the deserted street in the direction she thought the underground was. Pippa ended up in a forest, she didn’t know where to go. Behind her, the streets of London were getting bombed, in front of her; there was a wall of brambles and a wood. Slowly, Pippa ripped her way through the brambles, stopping every now and again to eat the luxuriant blackberries. She hadn’t eaten for ages. Fifteen minutes later, Pippa broke through the other side of the brambles and into the forest.

Pippa heard the beautiful chorus of the birds and the squirrels scampering through the leaf litter. To her left, she saw a rocky outcrop; there were a few caves in it, she chose the biggest one to live in until the air raid was over. Pippa peered into the gloom; she swore she saw the grubby face of a boy she switched on her torch and in front of her stood a boy about 12 years old and 5’2” in height. He was wearing a blue T-shirt and green shorts. “Hello.” Said Pippa “What is your name?”

“My name is Arthur, Arthur Shrewson. What is yours?”

“Pippa Chapman.” Said Pippa “I want to go home.”

“I’ll come too!” Said Arthur.

“Come on then.”

They walked through the forest for a few hours and then they came out on a rocky path and then into London. Pippa smiled and then ran off down the road towards her house. She saw her parents in the garden. “Pippa, you’re back!” Mother shouts down the road. “Come in and get to bed, you look exhausted!”


The End

The Blitz by Barney CG

Posted in Writing we do at school, WW2

As I woke up with a cramp in my back I wondered where I was. Then I remembered, I was sleeping on the stairs down to the underground. My parents were getting our things together, ready to go above ground and inspect the damage. On the streets there were ARP wardens searching through the rubble for people, there were also fire fighters putting out the last of the fires. I could hear the hiss as the water landed on the smouldering buildings, there were the now homeless people searching through the rubble of their houses for their most prized possessions.


We set off down the road towards our house, we remembered my uncle, brother and sister were in the Anderson shelter in our garden. My home was just a skeleton and the windows and doors had been burnt out. I could hear the crunch of glass under my feet as I walked around the house. When I got to the Anderson shelter, I peered into the gloom, I heard someone moving about but I couldn’t see anything. It smelt like rat wee and there was dust all over the floor. I heard a click and a gas lamp turned on, the face of my uncle was illuminated. Behind him sat my brother and sister

The Anderson shelter was covered in bricks and dust from the houses nearby but the people inside were unharmed. I heard glass tinkling on glass and saw the milkman coming down the road with a crate of milk. Behind him, was an ARP warden with cups of tea for us. The tea tasted brilliant compared to the rabbit soup we’ve been eating for the last month. I could feel my body warming up again.

We went into the house and my heart sunk; it was bare of anything. All of the chairs had burnt and the crockery was smashed all over the kitchen. There was one good thing though; our whole family was together and we were safe.

Or were we…


Blitz Poem by Barney CG

Posted in Poetry, Writing we do at school, WW2

Wind howling through the skeletal remains,

Hoses playing on the smouldering ruins.

Orgies of scatter-bombs destroying what’s left,

A choking dawn revealing the terrors of the night.

The engines of aeroplanes growling overhead,

Fight the hell of Hitler’s making.

Ferocious flames licking out of windows,

A diabolical act of vandalism.

People sheltering in the underground,

Babies screaming for their parents.

ARPs scouring the skies for planes,

Whatever they do to us we’ll give it ‘em back.

Steamed Chocolate Pudding by Barney CG

Posted in Writing we do at home, WW2


1. Peel, top and tail the carrots, then grate them.


2. Cream the margarine and sugar until pale and fluffy.


3. Stir in the grated carrot, syrup and the rest of the dry ingredients. Then add the milk.




5. Put the mixture into the basin and cover it with baking paper.



6. Tie a string around the basin and put it in the steamer.