Izzy’s fantastic rhyming poem – The House on the Hill.

The House on the Hill


There’s a lady who lives in the house on the hill,
With urns and dolls on the windowsill.
She has dust all over the mantlepiece,
Her hair is long and caked in grease.

She wears a dress that’s all in black,
If you go to her house, you won’t come back.
No-one’s ever heard her voice,
She plays with death like kids play with toys.

Some won’t believe what it is they see,
When her husband comes to town for tea!
He’s allowed downtown for one day a week,
Which is why he acts so scared and meek.

She has a son, some say his name’s Joe,
But no-one will ever really know.
Her family is a mystery,
They could be alive or dead as can be.

She’s a controlling, scary, frightening witch,
Manipulative, terrifying and quite rich.
So that, children, is why you will,
Never go to the forbidden house on the hill!


Year 8

The wonderful game – Yr 5

Football  is a great well known game and it is played everywhere in the world. It was played wayback then when the Aztecs were known to mankind. In China they use goat guts to make a football. They would cover the guts with fur and then they kicked the ball. They also did not have any rules at all! So they used to kick, punch, throw and even bite!

Then there were the Romans. The Romans were very good. They used to do all kinds of stuff, at least they were better than a game whith no rules…. Well the Romans did not have that many rules! If you thought that the Romans had lots of rules, well you are wrong. Very wrong!

Now we can go on to talk about the rules of the beautiful game of football: first things first there are eleven players on a team playing on the pitch. There are two teams in each game and there are loads of formations for a team but you can only pick one. There are 4-4-2, 4-3-3, 5-3-2, and 5-4-1.Those are a couple of the formations of an eleven-a-side match! Also there is a halfway line going along the middle of the pitch and that is where kick off is taken there is a little spot in the exact middle of the pitch. Also there is a huge box around the goal, inside the big box is a small box called the six yard box, it is called that because it is six yards away from the nearest goal. Inside the big box, close to the six yard box is the penalty spot where a penalty is taken (a penalty is when someone does a nasty tackle or a hand ball in the big box) that is twelve yards away from the goal. Now let’s talk about a free kick, a free kick is when someone does the same things as a penalty but is outside the box. If the free kick is close to the box and it is in range of scoring that is called a direct free kick. If the free kick isn’t in range of shooting then that is an indirect free kick.The lines on the side of the pitch is where the throw ins are taken. That is when the ball is off the pitch, to take a throw in you hold the ball in your hands and put the ball behind your head and throw the ball forwards to your team.

Football is a game of two teams of 11 players, you can have lots of teams.Some of the best teams are: Man city, Barcelona, Real Madrid, Man united, Liverpool and Atletico Madrid.

We all have our idols (the world-class players) like: Messi, Ronaldo, Pele, De Ligt and Van Dijk.

Finally if you are good enough you can play for your country in pride! So what are you waiting for? Go and play football and enjoy the wonderful game!


‘Black Panther’ Review By Jack K

Black Panther is a 2018 American superhero film based on the Marvel Comic character, created by Stan lee and drawn by Jack Kirby, of the same name. The story is based on the Wakandan Empire. After the death of his father, T’Challa (the newly appointed King) returns home to the African nation of Wakanda to take his rightful place as king. When a powerful enemy suddenly reappears, T’Challa’s role as king and as Black Panther gets tested when he’s drawn into a conflict that puts the fate of Wakanda and the rest of the world at risk. Faced with treachery and danger, the young king must rally his allies and release the full power of Black Panther to defeat his foes and secure the safety of his people.

Now, the Black Panther is known all over the globe and has been
manufactured into toys, clothes and collectibles! These products have been
manufactured by some massive companies such as Funko and LEGO.

A must see! I recommend to anybody who enjoy thrilling adventure and
quest films!

The Atlas to Anywhere – By Eva D


Horace Harlem flipped open the newest Agatha Christie in the interestingly boring Murlay Field Library for the sixth time that day. He would go out with his mates. If he had any. The librarian, Ms Roberts, trundled past with her ancient old trolley, dust gathering on her hundred year old baggy dress, with an endless supply of Fox’s Arctic Mints in the pockets. She had inch thick glasses with a rat’s nest for hair, tied up in an unintelligible, frizzy bun. Horace was a fair but short young lad, with light blonde hair plastered onto his head, with ocean blue eyes and a sad smile. He grinned as Ms Roberts approached him with the trolley,

“Aah, young Horace, reading Agatha Christie for the sixth time today, I see,” she said with a grin. “Here is something that may interest you. The latest atlas, only published in 1925, this year.” She handed him a copy of Cinderella from 1893.

“Ms Roberts, this is Cinderella.”

She inspected the cover, her face an inch away from the book.

“Nope, this is it.” she said with a confident smirk. Horace picked up the book and slammed it on the table, opening it up and inspecting the pages. By gosh she was right. The book was full of pictures of the world, but in incredible detail. He looked at the cover again, just to be sure that he wouldn’t have to take a visit to uncle Barry’s opticians again. The cover had changed. This time it had changed. It read “The Atlas To Anywhere” in gold lettering, with a golden figure of a spinning globe imbedded in the immaculate front cover, that appeared to actually be turning.

“Ms Roberts…”

The old bat was having an intellectual conversation with a plant pot about her cat. He decided not to interrupt her. He turned his attention back to the book. He turned to the “Asia” page. He always yearned to visit Hong Kong. He touched the spot labelled “Hong Kong”, and felt a sudden lurch in his seat…

Horace was being squashed into darkness, feeling like he was in a small box that had walls closing in on all sides; constricting him like a python. Then there was a flash of light, and he was in the middle of a strange city, surrounded by signs with strange symbols, and people  rushing in and out of shops, speaking a strange language. Then the realisation hit him like a bus. He was in Hong Kong. He was beyond shock. Was it the Atlas? Witchcraft? Hold on a minute… The Atlas. Questions ran through Horace’s head at a million miles an hour. How did the atlas get him here? Why is the atlas doing this to him? How did he end up in Hong Kong? Was he ill? Unconscious? DEAD? He took a step forward and stood on something hard. The atlas. He picked it up and inspected the pages. Not a rip or a tear anywhere.

Boy, what are you doing here” said a foreign voice behind him, speaking a strange language. Horace turned and saw a short chinese man in long robes, clutching a bag of rice and other groceries.

“I won’t ask again, what is your business here.”

Horace clutched the atlas and slowly walked away from this strange man, and led himself into an old alleyway, surrounded by empty beer bottles. He crouched down behind some strangely marked crates and opened the book. He inspected the pages once again. What was this book made of? Something clicked in his head. When he touched the mark labelled Hong Kong, it transported him there. So that means… He flicked to the page marked “England” and scanned the page for his hometown Murlay Field. There it is. He touched his town’s spot and felt the same lurching, then constricting sensation that he had felt before, followed by the sudden sense of relief as he found himself back in the old library, and it was almost as if nothing had changed, apar form the fact Ms.Roberts was sweeping the windows and polishing the floor. She turned to face him.

“You enjoyed your adventure in China, I presume,” she said with a smile, “Such nice people, are the Chinese.”

“What – How?” Ms Roberts cut him off.

“Look, it appears to be closing time. Off you go.” she remarked, popping another ancient Fox’s Arctic Mint into her mouth. Horace didn’t ask any questions. He grabbed the book and scuttled out of the ancient library. He heard a thunder clap and the rattle of rain against the floor. Great. Rain. As he approached the gates of his grand stately home, he got bombarded by the resident bullies in town. They were the middle class kids, unlike Horace, who was rather well off, living in the esteemed Harlem Manor.

“ARE Y’ ALL RIGHT, TOFF?” shouted the head bully, Donald Edwards.

“Go away Donald,” said Horace through gritted teeth “I’ll pull my vicious hound on you.”


All of Donald’s cronies started to laugh and close in on Horace. Horace skirted out the way  and ran up his driveway, closing the gate behind him. “IT’S A PEKINGESE!” shouted Horace, bubbling with anger as he saw the thugs give up and trudge down to the sweet shop in defeat.

Horace hid the Atlas in his waistcoat as he sneaked past the labyrinth of rooms in his home and turned the corner to his room. Only a few turns to go until he was in the safety his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and tried to hide under the safety of his bed, only to find his 4 year old sister Florence having a tea party with Mr. Teddison, Tom Tinker and Mickey mouse. Horace sighed, as this happened often. He pried Florence of his bed frame and carried her to the playroom, where he found his mother rocking his other two sisters, Fern and Faye on the new rocking horse. Faye, Fern and Florence are identical triplets, all very different in personality. Florence is the soft, gentle, sensitive sweetheart, always wearing pink frocks and pink ribbons. She had made a hideout underneath Horace’s bed for an escape plan when she didn’t want to play.  Fern was the one who tended to keep to herself, not really interacting with her other two sisters, but she was very smart for a four year old. She was always wearing purple. Finally, there was Faye. She was a ball of energy, bossing about her sisters and leading them around the house and leading them into the kitchen to invade the cupboards for sweets. She constantly wore blue.

“Horace, my son, how are you!” said his mother, her long brown hair spilling over her shoulders as she took Florence’s hand and lead her over to the rocking chair and placed her on her lap. Of course, the other two ran over and started to climb all over her to prove a point. Before Hoace could lift a finger, his Mother asked him “Horace, could you get the girls some lemon barley water?” Horace had to oblige. If he didn’t, the girls would go m e n t a l and tear up the house. Horace briskly left the playroom to fetch the girls’ lemon barley water, or as they called it, “spesull dooce”. ( translation; special juice ).  Why couldn’t mother just do it? Horace thought huffily. They were her kids, her responsibility. He entered the kitchen, begrudgingly made the drink, sprinted back to the playroom and slammed the cups down on an old table decorated with the remains of the first Charlie Chaplin plushie, who died in the hands of Fluffy the pekingese

Horace pressed his armchair against his bedroom door to prevent further toddler invasions and took the Atlas out from under the bed. He flipped it open and admired the moving pictures; wondering how such technology was implanted in such a thin piece of paper. He knew who would be able to figure out this strange find. His father. Horace heaved open the door, weaved past the trooping toddler trio and made his way to the study, The Atlas tucked neatly under his armpit. He flew down the corridor like a greyhound on caffeine. He kicked open the door to the study, making a previously sleeping Fluffy yelp in shock and immediately fall back asleep, and his father to drop the latest copy of The Daily Tree. His father was a well groomed, handsome man, with chocolate brown hair and a moustache. He usually wore brown slippers, brownish – grey trousers, a red bow tie and a pea green sweater vest, and he always had a pipe in one hand, a newspaper in the other and fluffy at his feet. Horace’s father spoke;

“Hello son, how are you toda-”

“DAD LOOK AT MY BOOK!” Horace thumped the book into his father’s lap and winded him, but the book had changed. It was, once again, a copy of Cinderella from 1893. Horace’s father laughed and ruffled Horace’s hair.

“My boy, you are a wonder.”


“You really need to do something with your life, like actually getting friends.”

This statement cut Horace like a knife. He silently took his book and slumped off to his room, anger bubbling up inside of him. He wanted, no needed to escape this house. He couldn’t sneak out on his own without being caught. Unless… Horace opened the Atlas,now in its true form and put his finger on a random page.

Everything once again turned black and constricting, until he found himself in another strange location. He felt himself get hotter in the baking sun, and he was surrounded by bustling people speaking another odd language, spanish, maybe? He looked down and realised a horrible truth. The atlas was gone. He went into full panic mode, frantically getting on his hands and knees. He saw further up the street a colourful parade, with colourful headdresses, floats and a huge crowd following. He finally realised where he was. Rio de janeiro, Brazil. He didn’t have time to admire the beautiful parade and lush surroundings. He had to find the Atlas. He looked around frantically, left, right, up, down. He saw a man running towards the parade, Atlas in hand. The little thief. He picked himself up and shot off like a pea in a peashooter, sprinting down the cobbled paths and following the thief down the winding roads, the bright colours and the loud music getting further and further away, eventually becoming a muffled voice in an ocean of silence. He was lead to a rough part of the city called a Favela, a rough neighborhood which is basically huts stacked on top of eachother. He slithered past children, adults and dogs, following this man. The man tripped and dropped the atlas, so Horace picked it up and fumbled with the pages. He found his town and smacked the pace his town was. He felt a sharp pain on the back of his neck, and he started falling, falling, falling, falling, falling, falling

He awoke in the hospital, his body aching all over and his neck in a collar. His family were standing over him, his mother close to tears and Florence was sitting on his stomach, the other two looking at her in jealousy . “What happened?”

“My boy” his father said, giving him a massive hug to end all hugs. Horace saw through his father’s grasp an old woman. By jove. It was Ms Roberts. She scuttled in and whispered something to the parents. The parents nodded and walked out the room with the triplets, or at least tried to as they pried Florence off the bed frame. Ms Roberts stood beside him, the atlas in her hand. She quietly scuttled over and placed the atlas on his bed. She nodded and uttered four words that would stick with Horace the rest of his life:

“The atlas chose you…”

She blinked at him, put a final mint in her mouth, and disappeared in a tornado of pages and ink, leaving Horace gobsmacked and the atlas twinkling in his lap…


Chantry Chat

‘We have long awaited Amy’s next few chapter of On The Run, here they are.’

Chapter 3

When I walked into my new home, all the kids stared at me, maybe it was because I haven’t had a bath in a couple of months, or the fact I had a grubby cat in my arms. “Right, I’d like you to all meet… I’m sorry what was your name again?” the adoption lady asked.  I was completely dumbstruck. I had no name, except for beast. The only reason my brother was named was because when I was born there couldn’t be two beasts. “Umm…”  I thought long and hard about what I could be called. I remember me and Dan thinking of a good name for me when I grew up.  “My name is Calum, Calum Goodman.” I replied. That was my last name, so I was usually Beast Goodman. “Ok, Calum, I’d like you to meet Camilla, she is the owner of Keiki home for Kids.” “Lovely to meet you.” the frail, elderly women said in a soft tone, “Why don’t we get a cuppa, so I can get to know you?” We left Keiki home, with Camilla on her dainty mobility scooter. I was actually quite surprised when I found I couldn’t keep up with the scooter.  “How fast does this thing go?” I asked, panting. “I’m not sure, but it is quite fast!” Luckily the cafe was only around the corner. “Would you like something to eat Calum?” “Yes!” I replied instantly. I haven’t had anything for two or three days. “Ooh you’re eager.” she chuckled. We popped on the seats closest to the window. “I have one very important question for you, why does your adoption paper have no parent or guardian signature on it?” “I set myself up for adoption, you see my parents, well…” “It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me, darling.” she said in that same loving, soft tone. “No, I need to, I haven’t told anyone.” I encouraged myself. “My parents… abused me. They neglected me. I always felt as if my brother was the only person who loved me, and my Grandma.”
“My! No wonder you set yourself up for adoption!” Camilla squealed. “My family didn’t put the good into Goodman.” Camilla looked at me intently. “Is that your last name, by any chance?” Camilla questioned. We were then interrupted by a waitress.“I have the Chicken and Vegetable soup.” “Oh, that’s for me, thank you dear.” Camilla stated. “Then this must be yours.” The waitress placed a piping hot plate in front of me, a nice baguette filled with ham and cheese. “Watch out, the food will be hot!” the waitress warned, then walked off. I didn’t listen to a word she said, I scoffed that meal down like an animal. “Going back to our conversation…” I said, “My last name is Goodman.” “And what are your parents names.” The thoughts of my parents disturbed me. “Harry and Val. Why are you asking?” Camilla looked shocked. “Calum, my grandson!” she wailed, “Is that really you!” I was shell shocked. She was the Grandma I loved when I was young, I don’t know how I didn’t recognise her! When I was little, me and Dan loved going to Gran’s house. She wouldn’t swear and beat us. She’d give us food, and sometimes sweets! Camilla’s eyes welled up with an oceans worth of tears, and so did mine.

Chapter 4

We were back at Keiki home, greeted by Tide.“Hey girl, you look nice.” Her fur didn’t look dirty at all, not one speck of mud was on her and Tides fur wasn’t tatty with big lumps of hair. She actually felt smooth. “How did this happen?” “They obviously took very good care of Tide!” Grandma responded We walked into the home and everyone was all over Tide. She was the star of Keiki Home. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my grandson, Calum.”  Now, everyone huddled around me, maybe it was that I had been holding a manky cat. I was shown to my dorm room by Grandma Camilla. The furniture looked all specially picked out. It was very modern with two single beds each side of the room with wardrobes at the bottom. “Who’s my roommate?” I asked. “You don’t have one yet.” Camilla replied, “But I am determined to find Daniel.” “Why did you go for Calum as your name?” she continued. “Me and Dan had always discussed running away, so we had to think of a name for me because Dan didn’t want to call me beast.” “Well, I best leave you to get comfy.” “Thank you, gran.” I said with a slight smile on my face. I placed my bags down and closed my curtains, blocking the dim winter sun. I’m glad that I found a place to live. I wouldn’t be able to bear another sub zero winter, no, not again. I lay on my bed and found myself drifting off to sleep.

Chapter 5

“Dude!” I heard someone shout. “Dude, wake up!” I opened my eyes and right in front of me was Dan. I ran and gave him a hug. “Hey, what was that for, did I do something bad?!” Dan said in a sarcastic tone. “Where are we?” I asked
Before my brother could even answer, I was in my own bedroom, I was back home! “What’s the matter?” “Why am I back home?” “You’ve always been home, I can’t even remember the last time we saw daylight!” Dan said. It suddenly dawned on me that I had been dreaming. “No!” I screeched. “SHUT UP BEAST!” I heard my dad’s voice scream. “So we never ran away?” I continued whispering. “I wish!” Dan exclaimed. Loud footsteps came to the door with a shadowy figure.
“I said shut it both of you!” Harry screamed. “I want you in the lounge immediately!” “Sir, yes, sir!” Dan giggled as if he was in the army. “NOW!” My Dad went over to my brother, but I had enough. I’m not treated like most kids are, and that is the one thing that made me so happy to run away, but my dream is all gone. I live in a nightmare. I just want my parents to love me. I got up and shouted louder than before; I’d never shouted at him before. Dan looked at me as if I was a different person.  My Dad went in for argument! “Run Dan!” I shouted. “You come as well!” We ran through the house to the front door, but the door wouldn’t budge open. “Get the keys!” When Dan span around, there was my mother. “What are you doing.” she asked. “Oh nothing, just, you know, checking the door is locked so we don’t get out.” Dan said as an excuse. “Wow, you beasts are finally learning.” my Mum said and then walked away. “Quickly get the keys.”  Dan grabbed the keys from under the mat. “We’re free!” Dan shouted. “Oh no you’re not!” I heard Harry say. “Go Dan! Leave without me!” “I can’t! I won’t leave you here to suffer!” “Please Dan, we both can’t leave, one of us will get caught, you go!” I pleaded. My brother knew exactly what to do, he grabbed the keys and his backpack whilst I held off my dad. I tried to go with Dan but then a piece of rope was slung across my neck. My parents always did that. “No!” Dan screamed as he ran away. “Go, I’ve already felt freedom.” I croaked. I could slowly feel myself wither away…



Chantry Chat Logo

Well done to our three runners-up who designed fantastic logos for the Chantry Chat!

Congratulations to the winner Hermione Hall (5C) for her professional design that we will now be using as our new logo for the Chantry Chat- we love it!

Hermione 5C