A Surfing Flashback by Lubin

Posted in Making Waves, Writing we do at school

That day was one of the best in my life (which isn’t saying much, but hey) anyway, it started off like this…

It was hot and steamy in Newquay that year, I can still picture the seagulls quarrelling over litter, and my glasses steaming up every time I wiped them clean. Pip’s van was parked in its usual spot next to the sand and he could hardly sell his ice creams fast enough, handing them out by the dozen. It was around ten o’ clock in the morning when I decided to take a nap.

When I had caught my forty winks, there was only a short queue so I decided to buy an ice cream before I went home. At just that moment, Pip exclaimed, “Really sorry folks but I need to do something right now” and with that, he stripped down his outer layers to reveal a woollen new swimming cozzie. He strolled down to the beach and picked up a trolley that I couldn’t see what was on. I gingerly stepped onto the beach, the sand was boiling hot but I managed to get over to where Pip had been but he was already stomping up to the infinite blue with his strange trolley. I followed in his sandy footsteps until I saw him take a massive something or other off the trailer and place it in the water! I ran towards him but it was too late. He got on the thing like it was one of the coffin lids I had, then he paddled out and I never saw him again. Except for the part where I did. I was panicking; he had been out too long. Was he mad? And just as I was about to call a peeler, he popped up on the top of a wave, hands outstretched, laughing like a maniac and he surfed down the wave like a God.

A moment of serenity, I knew that I wanted to do that, I knew that was definitely a sport for me. I smiled, then laughed, and then… Pip fell off into the water and I panicked again.

The end?

 

Pip Staffieri by Lubin

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

Pip Staffieri – a biography

Although unknown to most people, Papino Staffieri was the godfather of surfing. Born on August 3rd 1918 in cornwall, England.

As a two year old child, “pip” as he was known to his friends, suffered a minor disability to his left leg due to Polio. Nonetheless, he developed a strong swimming talent. At the age of twelve, Pip Joined a local canoeing club. But his favourite water sport by far was prone surfing.

Pip’s family was Italian, hence the surname Staffieri, they moved to

cornwall in 1900. fourteen years later Augustine – Pip’s father – signed up for the war in 1917 Theresa – pip’s mother – became pregnant. Several months later Augustine was dead and pip was about to be born. Pip grew up without a father, and later on inherited his ice cream business.

Now we move along in Pip’s life. Now nineteen, sitting on a seat in the waiting room of the dentist’s surgery reading a reasonably sized encyclopedia when he skips to a page with a picture of two men, riding along on the crest of a wave like gods, the caption reads: surfing on boards in Hawaii. Pip looks up and smiles.

1938 Saw pip, a twenty year old ice cream seller (his ice cream will some day evolve into the company we know as Kelly’s.) people came from near and far to taste his delicious chocolate or his radiant strawberry flavours (and the beautiful Cornish sea, but mostly pip’s treats, of course.)he sold ice cream to anyone who was close to his cluttered ice cream van, including, one day, a man called Jimmy dix. Little did Pip know that Dix had seen the same picture that Pip had seen at the dentist’s, and had written to a Hawaiian surfboard maker and asked for the design of one of his makes. But instead of the design, the Hawaiian man sent Jimmy a full on thirteen foot board! When Pip’s working day was over he closed the window and walked down to the beach, intending to lie on the warm sand and bathe in the moonlight, when he saw something rather peculiar; or rather two somethings peculiar, a slender board like the one he had seen inside the encyclopedia a year ago next to it lay another, slightly smaller, but just as queer. Pip built his own board and became one of England’s first surfers. He died in 2005.

FINIS

Blitz Poetry by Lubin.

Posted in Poetry, Writing we do at school, WW2

Autumn time 1940,

Children walking in the park,

Old man sitting on the bench,

Thinking about what Wartime brings, and when (or if) the war will end,

Then, as if in answer, that haunting sound did fall,

 Terror, madness, London’s bane, that dreadful note did call.

England falls to winter’s clutches, icy does it start, though colder still, and brighter less is Adolph Hitler’s heart.

The flares rain down and the siren begins,

The roaring flames or wrecking booms that tore their lives apart.

Now dawn has broken, people look, at the beautiful city the Nazis took.

The old man  cries as he sees the death,

Though London may still take it’s final breath.Image result for the blitz

The Announcement of War by Lubin

Posted in Writing we do at school, WW2

There is only one heated room in our house. That’s why we are all located there, me, Tricia, Arthur, Jimmy and Rebekah’s parents all packed in the living room. Arthur reaches out and presses a button on the wireless. It crackles to life, I look at the time, it’s 11 o’clock. This will decide it. On the radio Neville Chamberlain speaks, I look at Jimmy; the vacant expression he wears worries me. I know what he’s thinking about because I’m thinking about it too. If we declare war on Germany he will have to fight.

“We told Hitler that if he did not withdraw his troops from Poland, we would declare war,” speaks the radio, I know what’s coming next and I can hardly bear to listen. I close my eyes, “…And so, consequently, we are at war with Germany.”

And then, like it’s answering to the speech, slowly, ominously, The air raid siren begins…

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The first tripod P II By Lubin

Posted in The War of the Worlds, Writing we do at school

Cracks spread across the road like a massive spiders web, careering down the street. I dived for cover as a crack zoomed past me. I ran to a nearby building just before the road heaved up like a massive creature taking a breath. The moment seemed to last forever. the screaming bystanders frozen in time. The grey smoke that was omitting from the cracks in the ground. Finally it crashed down. The next few seconds were a blur of the screaming ringing in my ears and fuzzy images that didn’t quite process in my mind. I was snapped back into focus when a car flew out of the gaping hole and almost flattened me to a pancake! That was when I saw it the terrible face emerging from the hole, the metal plates that obscured it’s ghastly face except the eyes and mouth that oozed saliva. It was out of the hole now on it’s three legs, whithout them it was only about 2 feet tall, but whith the legs it towered 30 metres tall. Suddenly, a dreadful noise resonated through my brain. The all hell broke loose; the sound was their blasters charging up to shoot. They had come. They were here.

The First Tripod by Lubin

Posted in The War of the Worlds, Writing we do at school

I swear I will never forget that day. The day when they came. The day they tore the world apart.

Well it didn’t exactly start off as a normal day. First the Lightning and then the explosions. This was strange from the start.

The lighting didn’t look like lightning. It was too blue an hung in the air too long. It wasn’t even rainy when it struck. Like a warning for what was to come. People started to gather round the small crater in the road; that was another thing, usually lightning strikes the highest building or tree in sight. This struck in thé middle of the road. Pieces of Tarmac littered the crater like miniature moons around a planet. I picked one piece up from the wrecked ground. It Was freezing . I had to drop it because otherwise my fingers would have gone numb. Suddenly a police officer with a pistol started shouting, ” IT MOVED… THE CRATER M-MOVED,” I looked down and indeed, the crater was moving!

 

TO BE CONTINUED