The Camden School for Girls Parent Portal - Friday News

Miranda – Swings

You dyed your hair last Tuesday
That's why your house stank of bleach
when I came over - you hated the colour
I thought it looked alright

"You're being too nice" you said
I said I hate that word
You'll have to do it again in a few weeks' time
Maybe I should do mine someday

We should go to the movies or the park
or sit in your room in the dark
and talk about things that don't concern us
until I'm going to be late home

I picture us walking up the hill
past the hedge that hits my face
every time, still untrimmed,
badly shaped and out of place

At the corner shop we'd get the sweets
that tasted cheap, stained our tongues
a colour that made us wonder
what was in them - I still don't know

We'd sit on the broken roundabout
or I'd push you on the heavy swing
You'd say it's not fun anymore
and I wouldn't say anything

Miranda – Creator/Inventor

I'll do it
I think I'll do it in a way
that would put the Great Renaissance to shame:
Make a brand new person of modeling clay,
not stopping until she is to my taste.
I shall shape her however I like
and clothe her in whatever I please
so that she may arrive on Judgement Day
fashionably late.
Perhaps I shall dress her fit for a ball
with a glorious gown, she'd be sure to enthral
but what if she found a lover there
and left me behind? Perhaps I'll make her blind
Or better, so I am all that she sees
So that I am hers and she is mine
I may be damned but at least I'd have
a plasticine person, all of my own.

Dorothea – Agnues Dei

The candles burn around your altar -
It only gets visited twice a day.
You sing your praise of thanks,
And like dust in the wind, get swept away.

You drank on all the sunlight at your final stop,
Humbly sipping, tirelessly, wanting to rot
Into a hole in the bottom of an ocean on Mars.
(Jupiter swore it saw you crawling away, embedded with scars.)

I thought, like the wind, you would be fluid
in time, succumbing to all the bridges and cracks
In a grand style. But no, you slowed down, waiting,
staring intently into my own abyss, carving out the cracks

That lay in the forest. Like the roots of the tree,
You would send signals to me, when feeling
Tumbled, the mycelium would transport me to you
And you to me, and through the rain, you would come

Like on the Eve of St Agnes. The church altars
Grew farther apart the more my heart stopped
To look at you; your face dishevelled from the rain
And the wood splinters from your shoes

(Theseus had built them). Each day, he would tear
It apart, and build it over again; you did the
Same with your heart, weaving intermolecular
Bonds of green and sparks, waiting for the

Blazing fire to consume you. I had started that part
Within you, trailing you around like a sunken ship,
Galleys thrown at the hearth of a witch’s tavern,
Waiting to float out into the distant sea of sorrow and joy.

River – Forevermore Alone

A form unseen, a silent life unfed
By mortal hungers, or by earthly years,
It walked the woods, suppressing silent tears
(Though tears it felt not, nor the need to weep,
But memory lingered, buried in its sleep).

The forest breathed, a tapestry of green,
Where ancient trees their solemn vigil keen
Did keep, and whispers rode on every breeze,
A language old, among the rustling trees.
Through tangled roots, and over moss-covered stone,
The form progressed, forevermore alone.

Then, through the boughs, a glimmer caught the eye,
A fractured gleam beneath the clouded sky.
No natural sheen, but something wrought by hand,
A ruined dream, abandoned in the land.
The shadow paused, its purpose yet unknown,
Drawn onward to the seeds the wind had sown.

The trees gave way, a clearing scarred and bare,
Revealed a sight beyond all compare.
A cathedral stood, a skeleton of stone,
Its grandeur lost, its former glory flown.
The roof had caved, the windows shattered wide,
A hollow echo, where faith used to abide.

The thing approached with silent grace,
And stepped inside this ruined space.
The altar crumbled, ivy choked the wall,
Where once stained glass had cast its vibrant thrall.
A single beam, from high above it shone,
Illuminating dust upon the stone.

It stood there long, beneath the fading light,
A silent witness to the day's slow flight.
No understanding bloomed within its breast,
No sudden memory, putting soul to test.
Yet something stirred, a resonance profound,
As if its being had finally been found.

The cathedral stood, a monument to time,
While the nameless figure continued its climb,
Forever wandering, beneath the trees,
Carrying with it on the breeze
A whisper faint, and hard to define,
An echo left by something once divine.

Clem – Untitled

Oh! Do not go
Stay so with tender leanings into earth
so with gentle side turned heads wrought
This european light twists straw hairs red
one quivering rope of lead
But she stares - shivers with frozen grief of love

Oh to thaw!
I say
to summer behind green death planted on the cheek
to grow verdant once more
But she stares, steams with the thawing grief of love’s rink
so over-salted welts stain black sky pink
so our jasmine bleached candles blink
so we thaw, still forever
so we go, newborn together

Duke of Edinburgh Gold Awards

On the 28th of March, the DofE gold training and qualifying groups set off to the Lake District on a 7.10a.m. train to Penrith. On arriving at the train station, we were briefly introduced to our assessors, Ken and Kelly, who officially whisked us onto a local bus to travel to our starting points. Once setting off into the national park, we experienced many different weather conditions: snow, hail, rain and wind. One of our group highlights from this day was reaching the ridge of Brown Hill and being blessed with light snow and a view onto the snow-capped mount ascending from Glencoyne head.

Waking up on day two, we were greeted with a clock change and the pitter-patter of rain, which proved a dampener on the rest of the day's mood due to its steady flow through the duration of the day's walk. However, this torrential downpour only magnified the fantastic news we were given on arriving at the campsite that there would be access to a tumble dryer which we proceeded to empty the context of our bags into. Moving into the final two days, morale was significantly higher due to the promise of a dry weather forecast.

Through these two days, we did many meters of elevation clearing sights such as Brock Rage and Martindale Common, producing the most beautiful views. We ended off our trip in the lake district with an early dinner in the McDonald's at Penrith train station, and departed on an evening train back to London with many new memories, skills and a new appreciation for a warm dry bed.

For some of us, however, this was our practice expedition. So that meant a trip to Sainsbury's for some obligatory pesto pasta, up early to meet at Euston, already regretting how much we packed, then a few hours train journey North. Already as we stepped off the train, the rain started up, which would be a constant in the coming days. Regardless, the trip started off easy with a half-a-day walk to our campsite, then hot chocolate and pasta for dinner before squeezing into bed. The second day, however, was interesting. Driving rain 99% of the time, followed by howling winds, climbing up mountains, not forgetting to pass the dead sheep on the way, then descending those mountains in the dark. Oh, and the boys' tent flooded that night and the next day Joe had to tumble dry all their stuff dry. However, day three was our last night, so at least we had that going for us, and it was dry! In the evening, Will cooked everyone scrambled brownies, which everyone enjoyed. Day 4 was our last day, and by that point I think my group had 5 crêpes and a packet of tantastics to their name, but nonetheless made it to the station for some maccies.

Duke of Edinburgh gold qualifying group