A Challenge!31-01-2014 | 12:41:41 | 24 Comments

If you were marooned on a desert island, like Michael in Kensuke’s Kingdom, but could have chosen one (non-useful) luxury that washed up on the beach, what would it be AND WHY?

(Mine would have been a piano with lots of music.  This is because I would have plenty of time to work on my playing and hopefully the patience to get beyond Grade 2, which I took when I was about 12 years old!  I would love to be able to play more pieces.  I think it would be a challenge to focus upon and give me a great deal of pleasure.  It would also help pass the time.)

My Islington by Alex30-01-2014 | 12:26:14 | 5 Comments

Islington. It’s where I have lived all my life. The twisting stream, which is the canal, runs by the long, never-ending streets. The canal glimmers slightly in the bright light and it freezes in the winter time with a shiny coat of gloss spread over. The tall, terraced houses reach into the sky, with puffs of smoke twirling up. The three parks are little rectangles of green and brown. The church cross pushes up out of the high roof and the faint sound of the church songs drift on the wind. You can hear the buzz of the school children out for play and the teachers desperately trying to quieten them down. You can see tiny ants being sucked beneath the ground and others getting on red machines.

The gardens are like half an oval, shaded by the two balconies on each house. The trees push out their green leaves and are dotted with many colours. The neatly painted boats shine like a perfect smile with white teeth; their only flaw is their generators running until late and the smoke dripping out of the polished chimneys. The different cars are lined up on either side of the road, and many more crawl over the potholes and bumps.

The fig tree from my friends’ house grows out almost past the pavement and drops the ripe fruit for many people to catch and eat, like someone handing out free sweets. I sometimes imagine if every house had a fig tree that grew out to the middle of the road it would be like walking down a giant arch.

My Hampstead by Emma30-01-2014 | 08:55:10 | 8 Comments

 Hampstead. What a unique place.  Its bustling streets, its colourful shops and quick way of life. The blanket of Hampstead heath is the heart and soul of this magical place. The infinite lines of stores are like a vibrant string of beads and jewels on an elegant neck of a grey lady. One you are off the main road, you come to a smart and neatly selected hoard of boutiques and restaurants that buzz and dash like a hornets nest in the summer.

The high-speed ants crawl in and out of the red, white and blue ant-hill that is labelled, “Hampstead Tube Station.” With a brisk shove and a quick jostle, the ants squeeze hurriedly through the inefficient worm-holes. Once they disappear, you can faintly hear the rumble of the metal tube containing them, taking them to the end of their journey.

There it is. My favourite part of Hampstead: Ronis, the best Jewish bakery in town. You ask WHY I say that; I say it because it has the most delicious, delectable sweet treats in the whole of the universe (besides M&M’s). I go past it every day, and every day I long to rush inside and eat my fill. I love my area. What do you think of yours?

My Dartmouth Park by Elliot30-01-2014 | 08:50:15 | 3 Comments

Two rows of terraced shops sit opposite each other. Parks lay spread out like green pillows on a colourful sofa. Winding lanes lead to underground and uphill unknown places while lonely pubs lie around a corner. Churches with steeples that touch the sky sing happy chimes to the world around them.

Small thick hedges and rose bushes cover the long rows of white and brown painted house, and pointless, lonely chimneys sit securely on roofs, though they look like models of the leaning tower of Pisa found in souvenir shops in Italy. As the houses have no fires, no smoke will come.  Hash-tag shaped roads spread up the hills, the parallel lines being the driveways.

The area is calm and peaceful all day long but at night the silence stops. Churches shout their cries of warning. Fireworks, with no purpose, shoot up into the sky and thrash out into thousands of colours. If you are watching out of one of the windows you will see the most beautiful sight that your eyes could ever feast on but the most awful sound in the universe. Then it all stops. There is finally silence for an hour or two, but not for long. If you live on roads like Hillway and you can’t sleep, then at the witching hour look out of your window and look very, very hard. If you look hard enough you will see the moon shining down, stronger than the sun, leaving black crystal shadows as it finds another area to shine on. Then come the prowlers, hunters, growlers, and the fox quietly and stealthily creeps towards its prey: the dustbin. They tear apart the bins left outside, taking one item before moving onto another – not bothering to clean up their mess. What a place Dartmouth Park is!

My Camden Town by Eliza30-01-2014 | 08:32:55 | 7 Comments

Camden Town: a busy place where my home stands with row upon row of other houses. The railway station is dirty and massive; the trains look like long colourful worms. The cars are similar, just like the trains they are colourful, but they are not the same shape. They look like dots. There are more colours of cars:  blue, silver and green. The tall houses stand still like statues. The seas of tarmac swallow up the already little pavements.

The canal is a murky green. It is home to many an animal such as the cute little ducklings and ducks and the evil swans, who glare at you waiting, just waiting for some food.  Orange and green plastic bags drift away in the water like jelly-fishes. The kayaks lie down to sleep during the winter. Nobody dares go on them, apart from the occasional crazy person who doesn’t feel the cold, whilst the rest of us cuddle up with our hot chocolates at home.  In the summer every kayak is full of energy and not a single one of them sleeps.

And among all the tall houses there is one house with a sapphire door and a beautiful a white blossom tree with a slightly pink tinge that will always brighten up your day. This house has a beautiful back and front garden with flowers in an array. This is my house, which stands in Camden Town.

My View by Martina30-01-2014 | 08:18:31 | 3 Comments

From here I can see the roads that coil around like copper snakes. The houses are laid out like rows of little different coloured packets of food on a supermarket shelf.  The park is a sea of green with little fish bobbing up and down, running and jumping.

Then there is a little silver path, and next to the path there is a sapphire stream with silver pebbles and patches of green emerald grass.

If you’re lucky you may see a stork, his grey coat wrapped around him.  His legs are spindly like yellow sticks as he gracefully bows and dives.

My Primrose Hill by Daniella30-01-2014 | 08:12:49 | 6 Comments

As I look down on the little island far away from the busyness, loud chit-chat and pollution, there is a huge difference in culture. Primrose Hill is that calm place anyone would love. There is a long black, white and brown abstract scarf attached to another scarf and another, spreading further and further in different directions as if the streets were going for an outing but always coming back to where they belong: Primrose Hill.

The canal glistens in the summer, like a diamond cave while the little boats float along with the people on top, waving at the children smiling by the side on their scooters. The canal has a variety of little ducks, ducklings and swans gliding gracefully through the water, with their families, in a sweet protective fashion. They sing together like an orchestra tuning up. The robins, jays and a lot of other beautiful, fascinating birds and wild life peacefully come and wake me up. When I open the curtain I stare out at the sun or rain smiling at me kindly in the same style a person would. I say to myself, ‘Why would I want be anywhere else?’

In the village the light morning wind fills my lungs with a cold but positive and homely sort of feeling. I can always smell Anthony’s baguettes and croissants cooking and they make my mouth water – but it is almost time for breakfast. There is the toy café, Cachoa, which has any toy you could desire. But there is one street that means a lot to me, the one I have had most of my memories in. So, if you roll down that street, scuffing your shoes along the way and stop in front of a door with a stain glass window on top depicting a curious map with a blood red rhombus in the middle, and see a young girl in front of the door, well, that is me. This is my home; I would not want to live anywhere else.

My Primrose Hill by Belle29-01-2014 | 13:50:15 | 7 Comments

Up here I can see the park.  It looks like a massive green blanket with little green blobs on it. The houses up here look like dolls’ houses. Actually it all looks like a dolls’ house world with the people and their dogs. The lamp posts look like black pencils with yellow jewels on them.  The pirate castle looks like a boy’s toy castle, but the zoo looks amazing with all the bright colours of the animals and the aviary looks like a rainbow of colours.

  I have zoomed in a bit on the zoo; it looks like Rio during the carnival time in the summer.  Here you can hear the lions roar.  Also, you can just about see the penguins diving in the pool at feeding time. The petting zoo you can quite easily see, with the small goats and sheep and the tiny children and the parents telling them it is time to go, even though the children are transfixed on the animals.

The giraffes’ necks look even bigger than they usually are. The babies look big but they are still as cute as they usually are down below.   Also, you can see the zoo keepers throwing in green bushy stuff in their enclosures, and the giraffes throwing it up in the air and catching it, eating it. The giraffes’ calves are trying to do the same but failing.    

My Highbury by Sylvie29-01-2014 | 13:45:19 | 8 Comments

In my area I live in a terraced house on a mews.   Each and every house has its own quirk to it. Highbury Fields looks like a green and brown blanket covering the earth. The blossom looks good enough to eat, like pink and white marshmallow.  The houses, in a row, look like a scarf.  Even here I can hear the children playing on the yellow gravel that looks like the yellow brick road.

There is a splash of colour in a weary world of green and brown, a wooden jungle of play.  The wind carries laughter and the sound of fun.  I can see silver, slippery shining tongues dotted around the playground.  The wind whips children’s hair back while they are swinging through the air. There is also a wheel of colour going round and round that seems to be constant. Also there is a climbing frame that is like a mountain where children strive to get to the top and this is my place where I have had lots of adventures.

My Islington by Sarah29-01-2014 | 13:40:50 | 9 Comments

Islington is busy and calm at the same time. There are roads and crossroads, twisting here and there, the cars and buses tiny dots against the seas of tarmac. The houses are little white square boxes in long, rectangular lines of two, three or even four floors.  The roofs range from golden beige to chestnut brown. The park is a splash of muddy brown and emerald green, surrounded by yet more houses.   Roads lead in all directions, with the little colourful dots that make up the playground. St Andrew’s church is a reddish brick building, surrounded by tiny, yet vibrant rose bushes. Blessed Sacrament church is a tall, dark block, like a small Gothic mansion. The estates are long, grim lines of flats, small car parks and the occasional dot of grass. The Angel is a silver monument, just by the cinema which is recognisable by its orange billboards. Compared to the houses the prison is huge, white and blue, the high walls frowning, so forlorn.

Thornhill Square reclines in my favourite part of Islington, alive with memories. The park lies right in the middle, just by the church; warm and friendly on sunny days, muddy and cold in the rain. The surrounding houses have no colour contrasts, but the doors seem to smile at me when I walk past, so calm, the very picture of tranquillity. The park fence has a few gaps in it, and in my mind’s eye I can picture all of the times that I came back from church, sneakily taking a shortcut through the fence. The evergreen trees tower above the houses in a ring, protecting the dirt track that winds round the park.

The Tree stands in the middle of the park, my Tree, tall and proud. The roundel that surrounds it brings back memories of when I was small, riding my bike and getting stuck in its branches. Over the hill are the Three Trees, and the Branch, my favourite place to climb. The weeds poke up in between the path and the hill, making the park keeper’s hut look like it’s sitting within a meadow. Squirrels scurry around, always digging in a particular place for their nuts. The playground, old yet perfectly new, stands like an exhibit of statues, still and perfect. The twin rose beds sway in the breeze, leaning this way and that. They are a floral but thorny paradise, welcoming and waving to people entering and leaving the park like bouncers on the door of a nightclub, a picture of beauty and menace. The park is round, even though it is called Thornhill Square. I will always remember the times I had there.

Movers moving vendor and moving forward solutions,transferring vehicles24-01-2014 | 08:30:23 | No Comments

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My Crouch End by Mrs Walters16-01-2014 | 12:33:35 | 7 Comments

Some students believe they do not need help and support to compose a persuading research paper. That always proves to be a false impression because the project of writing a good study papers includes watching many issues. You are going to primary must find a right subject matter to post your papers. The problem is that pupils go with a topic they can consider will depart an effect on the course instructors. This probably are not the right move to make, specifically if you do not feel safe plenty of to the office on that theme. You will need to fully grasp that you should not only go with a issue and start custom writing detailed idea of just what the essay question for you is suggesting that you do, you set on your own in danger of planning in the completely wrong path along with your analysis. So grab the dilemma, browse it a few times and pull out the important thing issues it is suggesting that you do. The directions during the concern will probably possess some bearing on the nature of your respective analysis.

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Crouch End.  What a curious name.  I have no idea how it came to be called this, but it is my home and I am happy to live there.  It is a calm oasis, but not sleepy, a suburb with a character all of its own.  Its hub is the Clocktower, rising from the island between the roads that converge to become the Broadway.  People weave their way round it, clutching shopping bags, pushing buggies and bicycles, all purposeful, but not urgent.  There is constant movement as they are swallowed up by the shops on the parades and then emerge back into the sunshine on the pavement.  Beyond the Broadway is the Palace, Alexandra Palace; majestically perched on the top of a lush green hill, it stares benignly down like a satisfied ruler.  The residential streets fan out from the Broadway like the feathers of a peacock’s tail, not straight and regimented, but curving and meandering in a patchwork of red brick, grey slates and bursts of green gardens.  The occasional azure-blue postage-stamp of a swimming pool winks and twinkles in the sunlight.

 

In a tree-lined avenue the houses stand to attention.  The wheelie bins, placed at the front of the driveways are like sentries keeping guard.   Burglar-alarm boxes give out intermittent green and blue flashes.   The plane trees have been pollarded to prevent them growing too large,; their deformed stumps sprouting broad leaves in an attempt to cover their disfigurement.

The candy-coloured painted house-fronts look out contentedly over the trees.  One house, with a bright teal front door, looks like it is gently breathing.  Steam snakes out of a broad metal pipe of a heating vent.  This is my home and the heart of my life in Crouch End.

Welcome to our brand new Year 6 Blog16-01-2014 | 12:27:01 | 6 Comments

This site is designed for our year 6 girls to publish their written work to a wider audience.  In lessons we spend a great deal of time sharing our work and celebrating our skills.

Now girls will be able to publish their writing.  Friends and family will be able to read our work from the comfort of their own homes.  If you like a piece of work you can say so .  In lessons we like to say very specifically what we find effective.  That way we learn what is most successful.  We can plunder each other’s ideas, share our triumphs and learn from our mistakes.

Let’s see how this goes……………….

PS Sometimes when you post a comment, for no obvious reason, it will tell you that it has been sent to Spam!  Don’t worry.  It will still get read, moderated and posted!  I haven’t worked out how to stop it doing this.  Don’t take it personally!

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