M.G.S. Magazine - July 1954

Section: |   1  |   2  |   3  |   4  |   5  |   Choose another mag  
MGS Magazine 1954
More articles written by pupils


The Easter holidays came at last. A friend of mine, whose mother would be away for a week, had to have her dinners out. However, my mother offered to give her lunches until her mother came home. So on Saturday, Mary came up on her bicycle.

Now Mary is altogether a rather "bouncy" person. She walks and talks very bouncily. Sometimes, although she means well, she goes a bit too far, (as you will see). On Saturday morning, she bounced into the house and on to a chair. Then-she saw Henry.

Henry is our cat. He is black and white and very dignified. Ever since he was a kitten he has been trained not to scratch or bite, and now he is usually very placid.

With a delightful shriek, Mary pounced on Henry, who protested indignantly. Mary took no notice, but said in a kind of awestricken gurgle, "Oh, I say, Judith, isn't he gorgeous!" Then to Henry - "Well then, chicken, let your Auntie Mary cuddle you!" Henry glared at her defiantly, as if saying he didn't want to be cuddled by his Auntie Mary or any other distant relation. However, she picked him up, nearly separating his head from his body, crossing his front legs, and causing his back legs to be almost pulled from their sockets. Henry managed to give a strangled howl, as if asking me for help. Then, squashing all the breath from his body with one hand, she tried to stroke him with the other. Luckily for himself, Henry got free, and jumped to the floor.

Mary pursued him relentlessly, in and out of chairs, but finally sat down without him. She was hatching another plot to try to pet him. Henry, all unaware, was stalking disdainfully past her chair, when, with a triumphant cry, she seized him and held him firmly on her knees. But, despite her frantic efforts to stop him, he escaped into the sitting room. With a comical look of disappointment on her face, Mary rushed after him. Again, she caught him. "Now," she said joyfully, "Do you want to come for a ride down the hill in my saddlebag, you naughty little pussy-wussy?" At which speech Henry's soul revolted, but he was powerless. And, if I had not stopped her, I think she would have taken him. However, I rescued Henry, who, with a grateful "Miaow!" fled upstairs and went to sleep under the eiderdown on my bed, where he was undisturbed for the rest of the day.

Mary, for all her troubles, finished up with a long scratch, which shows just how furious our dignified cat can be!



It was a calm, placid evening in the summer of 1801, and the frigate 'Cormorant' was under full canvas but nearly motionless. She was three degrees South of the Equator. Men were lying on the decks in peaceful reverie, but on the bridge the captain glanced nervously at the glass which rose and fell curiously. He realised that a storm was in the offing and went outside to shout orders. The men jumped up and scrambled up the rigging, tying up the topgallant, reefing the mainsail and taking down unnecessary canvas.

A faint breeze whispered in the rigging, and then all was silent and still, the mariners waiting in eerie suspense. No creaking of cordage, no slatting of sails, no movement of the men.

As the last hatch was battered down, a fresh breeze got up and developed in volume into a strong wind which swayed the ship and rolled the seas into a strong swell. Then came the rain; suddenly. There was a torrential downpour and officers and men went below to get sou' westers.

The gale rattled and moaned hungrily through the rigging and ripped many reefed topsails. The storm grew. Two sturdy men were lashed to the wheel and then darkness fell, quickly, as usual in the tropics. Phosphorescent spray lashed the men's faces and stung their hands as they clung like leeches to ropes and woodwork.

At the height of the storm the foremast snapped at the base like matchwood, carrying down with it all the rigging and spars. It tore up the deck near by and the sea water, which washed the boards, flooded into the hold. The pumps were already working and could not cope with the extra deluge. The men realised that the gallant frigate was destined to meet Davy Jones and they flung themselves into jolly-boats, lifeboats and longboats and rowed away with fervour and vigour, ploughing laboriously through troughs and flying over crests of waves.

The mountainous seas settled a little and the men packed in the boats caught a last fleeting glimpse of the 'Cormorant', and then she was lost for ever.

L. SHEARD (4 Alpha).

In the coldest days of winter
I must break the ice for swimming,
Thick and strong and cold the ice is,
Not a happy time for swimming,
Must I bathe in this wild weather?
Bleak and cold and bare the landscape
Covered with the snow of winter,
With the dazzling snow of winter.
So I dream of summer weather,
Summer weather when the waters
Limpid, flow along the valley,
When the sun is warm in heaven,
And the lark his song is singing,
When the water's soft and gentle,
That's the time for happy bathing.

MARY SHAW (2 Alpha).


Several years ago, my grandparents' house was wired for the electric mains. They bought a small all-mains radio, and so had their old "Cossor" three valve battery-operated set to dispose of. My father got it, wired in a High-Tension Unit, run off the mains, in place of the High Tension Battery, and a trickle charger to keep the accumulator charged up. He then gave it me for Christmas, to use in my bedroom. Before long, however, it became apparent that it needed new valves and a general overhaul. It was dismantled, and left to wait for both time and money.

At the beginning of this year it was still waiting, besides, the plans had become almost unreadable through old age, so, seeing an article in a magazine on building a two-valve radio, suitable for beginners, I decided to "have a go." On checking through the component list, I found I had most of the parts, the chassis, cabinet, and speaker of the "Cossor" would do, and I had numerous condensers and resistors from various sources. It was actually, a battery set but I had the High Tension Unit, and the valves, B7G "Alldry" types only needed a dry battery for heaters.

After deciding definitely to build it, I bought all but the valves one Saturday, and built it during the week. By the next Saturday I bought the valves, wired up the holders, and just after tea, was ready to be switched on.

First the high tension, switched on at the mains. It hummed gently, a good sign. Then the low tension - almost immediately there was a series of "plops", which turned to a whistling and shrieking as I gingerly tried altering the reaction. After more horrible noises I got just a suggestion of music and voices, between whistles. I then remembered a paragraph in the instructions, and exchanged the leads to one side of the inter-valve transformer. This improved matters considerably, and soon I picked up both the Home Service and Light Programme. Apparently there was a poor joint somewhere, as it "crackled" slightly when it was moved. Otherwise reception was almost as good as from our Mains Superhet.

For an outlay of under two pounds, plus the parts I already had, I had a satisfactory "second set", which has now been wired for playing gramophone records, via a light weight pick-up.

J. C. CARTER (4 Alpha).


There are many arguments about the young people of today. Some say that we are lazy, good-for-nothing people, whereas others say that we are more courteous and well-mannered than the young people of fifteen to twenty years ago.

I think that we are "spoon-fed and spineless." We have many things done for us, and what do we do in return? Nothing, except have a good time. I do, however think that the boys are worse than the girls in this respect. Girls do try to be a credit to their family, dress nicely and keep themselves neat. But I do know a great many girls who have had lovely dogs given to them and they just can't be bothered to groom and train them. It is all left to the poor parents.

I came home rather late on a bus the other night and I counted six boys of about fifteen or sixteen sitting downstairs, and there was an old lady with a hump back, standing up. In the end a lady of about thirty stood up and let the old lady sit down.

Then there is the subject of schools. I think that if girls and boys go to Grammar Schools they should go up into the Fifth form and at least try for their General Certificate.

And then there is the question of language. I don't think I know more than five boys over the age of eleven and under eighteen who don't swear. I do not think most of them realise that they are swearing - it just comes naturally to them. I do not think that this is always the parents' fault, either, as most boys speak civilly in front of their parents. I know that if my parents ever heard me use such language I should be punished very severely. I was once introduced to two girls, about a year ago, who would not have anything to do with me when they found I would not swear! They both said that I was stuck up. If this is not downright ignorance and stupidity, I do not know what is.

I believe that if youngsters would take and give in this world, instead of just take, take, take, the world would be a much nicer place to live in. There are quite a lot of well-mannered children in the world, but oh! what a lot of bad ones.



A frightened bunch of ginger fur,
The cat went flying by-
And on its heels a shaggy dog
With murder in his eye.

With bristling coat the cat sped on,
And saw no place for shelter.
No rest or pause-and close behind
The dog dashed helter-skelter.

The cat jumped up a leafy tree
The dog went home, at last.
The cat could rest in peace because
All danger now was past.



Monday mornings will come. They are, I should think, hated by every schoolboy or girl. After a very enjoyable weekend you have to settle down to school again.

The first job when you get up is to scramble to the bathroom hoping that no one else has the same idea in mind. When you arrive to find little Tommy throwing the soap up and down and splashing everything up with water is just the limit, you shout and bawl and get really cross. When at last he walks out of the bathroom after keeping you waiting outside for about half an hour, says a cheery "good morning" with a broad grin on his face, you feel like giving him a good hiding.

School starts at 8-45 a.m. and by the time the bathroom procedure is over it is about 8-25 a.m. Breakfast comes next and with a Ceppi and Jones, Part 1, reared up on the milk jug you try to rush a slice of toast down amidst Latin Readers and exercise books. After all this you discover that it's Games or Gym and need a tee shirt digging up from somewhere.

Then comes the job of packing your satchel so that it is comfortable while riding your bike to school. After a shuffle round of books you find that it will just about shut. Then you say "Cheerio" and dash clown to the shed for your bike. Half way to school you find that you've got a puncture. By this time you are just about at boiling point and the clock says it is 8-45 a.m. Forgetting about the puncture you dash up to school and put your cycle in the shed only to find that you're a quarter of an hour late.

During the day you get a detention for not doing your Latin properly and fifty lines for getting your Ceppi and Jones stuck up with marmalade. You then decide that Monday mornings are rather a nuisance.

LINDA GEE (2 Alpha).

"LOG. 0"

The cart is blue and scarlet,
The pony's plump and brown
They really are the gayest things
To see about the town.

It brightens up a chilly day,
To watch them as they go
The painted car, the pony,
His harness all aglow.

I'm always at the window
To hear the driver's cry;
To watch them pass below me,
With firelogs piled up high.

"Log-O", he shouts, "log-O, log-O";
It warms the sunless day
To see the painted pony-cart
Go jingling on its way.

J. A. AMBLER (2 Alpha).


I was feeling terrible and quite out of condition when I lined up with twenty three runners, my heart pounding. Never mind, I would do my best. Why hadn't I trained more? But on the other hand some people had trained still less than I, so I might yet, with my luck, come in with the first fifteen. Hopelessly I told myself that I would collapse after the first mile.

Then, to banish all thought, the starter's gun burst in upon my feelings.

For the first half mile everybody sprinted vigorously, then, all temporarily out of breath, the pace slowed down to a jog-trot. I fell into nineteenth place, which I was to keep all through the race. The course was a very gruelling one although beforehand I had been told that it was a mere sprinting track in comparison with the course of ten or twenty years before.

After the first mile I was breathing heavily, a sure sign (I thought) of bad condition. The countryside around me was very interesting but I had not time to observe it. With a line of eighteen runners in front of me I could not think of anything but of overtaking at least one of these.
Stumbling through fields and across roads, up hill and down dale, through bog, marsh and slime, I thought, "Surely I must be near the end," but I was wrong; I had barely reached the half-way mark.

Gradually, I saw all the other runners creep out of sight and with them went all my hopes. Straining to catch up with them I was myself caught up by another competitor and we accompanied each other for the next one and a half miles. At least, now I had someone to share my discomforts, and when it began to snow and hail I was glad of a companion. I wondered if the first of the other runners had reached home, and I miserably assured myself that he would. Involuntarily I quickened my pace, with jeering markers offering me cycle rides to help me on my way and passers-by staring inquisitively at my red face and steaming breath.

On the home stretch I quickened my pace, temples throbbing, to almost a sprint. I was determined that I should at least try to put on a good face at the finishing post. I found myself gaining on the runners in front and really tried hard to overtake them. Quickening my pace as much as I could, I caught up with them but as I was not the only one trying to overtake the person in front of him everyone sprinted down the last hundred yards. I overtook no one and finished nineteenth. Indeed, my last effort had been in vain and the only thing gained from it was a greater breathlessness than when the spurt had begun.

J. T. WILSON (4 Alpha).