Peyton Drew Writing 2017


The wind howls as the students arrive through the gates, hustling and bustling down the corridors. Friends are greeting each other with a hug or a playful punch while newcomers stand looking scared. The seniors stand, tall and proud, confidence born of experience. The bells ring echo’s throughout the school and everybody runs, except an occasional slowcoach or chatterbox. Everybody goes in except one and all is quiet; the way I like it

Even when I sit quietly, she seeks me out, sidling up for her next power fix. Her victory is a forgone conclusion, her ego boost at my expense guaranteed. She feeds off me like an aphid on new spring growth, leaving energized and buzzing as I feel drained and tense. She is my bully, but to me she is more of a parasite, boosting herself at a cost to others. I cannot be that way; I boost myself by being kind and thoughtful. Therefore, even though I come off worse every time. I would rather be me than her. She is vapid inside, needing these transitory external crutches.

I am solid from the core and the difference is vast, but even still I could not breathe, it felt as if someone was choking me. My heart was racing and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save me. However, no one would, no one was there. A choked cry for help forced itself up my throat, and I felt a steaming, salty drop run down my cheek. It seemed as if this was the end of the road. My brain had shut down. I was clammy and there was the glisten of a cold sweat. I knew my eyes were as wide as a possum in front of headlights. The hairs on the nape of my neck bristled. A gaggle of goose pi laminated her frigid, naked skin. Slow and deliberate, the door handle turned. She tried to scream, but the inside of her mouth lacked any moisture and a croak was all that issued from her gape. Finally, the door creaked open and...


Tabitha stood there annoying as ever. There were so many things that I could do, say but I did not.

Anger boiled deep in my system, as hot as lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction and I knew it was too much for me to handle. The pressure of this raging sea of anger would force me to say and do things I did not mean, or to express thoughts I have suppressed for weeks.

I have to get out everyone's way before erupting into a furious state. I know that this feeling will pass, but right now, it is still overwhelming me. Anger fizzes at my fingertips and I could not contain it. I ran…

Her room was like a wonderland for comic driven recluses. The walls were a deep red that pulsed in the light, sprinkled with various posters, mostly of strange Japanese cartoon shows. I doubted she could read whatever was written on the poster. Her comforter was pulled over her bed, even though she had not cleaned it. The result was lumps of varying sizes and shapes and the comforter was weighed down by her laptop. A desk sat in one corner, littered with wadded up pieces of paper and pens. A few shelves were pushed against the walls and filled with books. Some books sat on the floor in front of the shelves over all a clean room, so far.

Her bedroom was not just a mess, it was a disaster zone. It looked like a drunken cyclone had erupted in her closed strewing her clothes across the floor, and then made its haphazard way across to the desk to do the same to her schoolwork. The only clues that this uber-chaos was human made was that I was in there so I disappeared and did not come back until I heard her scream…

I Did Not Mean to Kill Her.


I did not mean to kill her, but I did. It was a mistake, but I still did it. This is what I have to live with… It was the kind of scream that made your blood run cold. It pierced through the brain and ignited some primeval pathway. Adrenaline surged through my veins, fight or flight, stand or run, be a hero or a coward. As my fingers curled around the black handle of the bread knife, my decision was made.

A man walked towards me. It was as silent as any normal morning and the sun barely higher than the trees just peeking through the drawn curtains. Yet, he was up. His big boots made a rhythmical noise against the carpet, solid and regular like a soldier. His face was stern, yet peaceful as he swung the gun from his shoulder. Smooth metal glimmered. Callused fingers wiped its surface, feeling the cold. The fear sits on me like a pillow over my mouth and nose. Enough air gets by it, allowing my body to keep functioning, but it is crippling all the same. I can still walk, talk and smile like I always did, but my insides are dying slowly.

A girl stands in the corner; and I cannot stop staring at her. It was not the color of her eyes that were so breathtaking, as it was what was inside them. Smeared mascara lines and heavy eyelids and bright. Oh, how bright they were, shining with the tears that had yet to fall in trickling lines, streaking through the caked dirt on her face. The blue-gray of stormy skies that drowned you in the rain to come.

"Why are you looking at me?" she said, a slight crack in her voice. My hands are shaking limp down at my thighs. “Because you are in MY house, stealing my things.” The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. I see the muscles of her chin tremble like a small child and she looks toward the window, as if the light could soothe her. I can tell it in her face the side effect of constant fear, constant stress that she must live with. I hear sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It takes something out of me I did not know I had left to give. That is the way it is when people are hard. It is like a theft of the spirit, an injury no other person can see. “I do not want to be here” her voice cracks again. His muscular upper-body stretched backwards and then suddenly sprung forward. The gun flew; spinning in the morning rays and lay silent on the floor. His hand cracks across my face, snapping it back with the force of his blow and causing my head to reel sickeningly as it slams into the wall behind me.

When black dots quit covering my vision I am standing in the middle of the room with the werewolf holding my arms tightly behind my back, the pain of his hold causing me to let out a startled little gasp of pain and he leaves. The girl is still there fists at her face: armed and ready not scared her heart not pounding. She look deadly. Her black eye bags vivid under her pale blue eyes. She comes closer. Every second another step. Closer and closer. My eyes skim over the gun that lays on the floor. The question is simple; the answer is not.

The dark red blood makes its way out of her body. It oozed through the spaces between her fingers as she covered her wound with a shaky hand. My vision became blurred as her red shirt turns darker and all I can see is the scarlet blood that once flowed in her veins. Each drop of blood slowly takes away the life in her leaving her pale and weak. When I managed to get close enough to see her face, I froze. Her eyes were more wild than a deer caught in a trap. There was nothing beautiful about her anymore. Blood trickled down her neck like a lazy river into her shirt. Around the hilt of the weapon that lay asleep in my hand the blood was dry and hard, but still the red liquid drizzled down her face like rain on a window and she was gone. Taken away. I was a murderer.

Murphy and the Moon

Chapter One…

It sat there. Way up in the sky. Waiting and wanting to be explored, by me. Every movement I made there was a new piece of sky to discover. Stars hung around me twinkling, all the planets sat in a line waiting for me to jump on and look around… “Look Mr Murphy Wesley wants to be an astronaut” The voice hurtled itself at me. Embracing me in something that was definitely not a hug. Why this dream, why not for once couldn’t my space dreams end with me taking the first step onto moon?

I woke up. My hands sweaty, sick of the same old dream, that I have had for a month now. It was three thirty in the morning but I went to sit by the window anyway. Pulling back my old torn curtains I heard a crack from the room next door. Light fled under my door, brushing against my forehead and then zipping away as the shadow moved from outside my door. Grandpa. He always gets up early to leave for work but I didn’t know that it was this early.

Creeping back to bed determined not to make a sound, BANG. Oops, well that did not work. The old creaky floor board that I had just laid my giant clodhopper on had finally given way. There was another movement outside my door, I decided to lie on the floor, my door opened. Blue fuzzy slippers crept into view.

“Come on hop up,” all I could see was his tummy, it was like a marshmallow soft and squishy only a hundred times the size. Not a single hair stood on his round scalp. He has blue eyes that glitter when the slightest bit of sunlight touches them. I normally stare at his eyes, they are pretty. It is the colour I think; vivid light blue, it kind of welcomes you in, makes you feel safe, but right now I did not trust myself to look at them because I knew what would happen if I did. I knew that I had to listen to him; do what he says, he is the only person I have got at the moment. Clambering up of the floor heaving myself up onto my bed, the floor screaming under me. I sat up on the bed next to him. He pulled me close to him, squishing me against his belly. I looked up. Tears running down my face jumping off the end of my chin plugging to their doom as they are soaked up into the quilt that lay hanging off my bed.

“I miss him” I chocked the words evaporating a centimetre away from my mouth. His mouth twisted into a half smile half frown.

“I do too”, whispered the words. But whenever I look at you I see him. You are exactly like him you know? I used to get up in the morning to find him asleep exactly where you sit to look at the sky. He has followed his dream and someday you will to, but you need to sleep if you want to see the moon.” A smile twisted onto his face crawling up to his eyes, I love his smile.

“Just remember my boy, respect is earned. Honesty appreciated. Trust is gained. Loyalty is returned”. He tells me this to me a lot and I always listen. We sat on my bed talking about everything. Just me and him not minding the cold wind as it circled the room entering from the window. Not even noticing the pitta pat pat of water as it fell from the celling landing in the bucket that sat on the floor beneath the leak. We have a roof over our heads and food in our fridge, what more could we want? “Better get going lad, have a good day at school” he lent forward, his lips touched my cheek. They were cold and cracked, as he rose his whiskers tickled my nose. “Grandpa,” I started to say but he was already out the door.

Chapter Two…

School… I do not like going to school. Not because of the learning/working part of it because with all my honesty I actually like that. My teacher Professor Flitwick is actually very cool, the best teacher in the world as far as I am concerned. The one reason I don’t like going to school is because of the one boy and his ‘gang’ that I am sure will see me soon enough.

Weeping Willow high is quite simply beautiful. The front office looks like a cottage. It has a blazing red fire on the inside and on the outside flower boxes sat overflowing with blues, purples and reds. Mum would have liked this school but she never got to see me standing in my uniform. Maybe that is why Grandpa and I are so close. He lost Grandma and I lost Mum, in the same car in the same crash.

My favourite place in the school is the field. The grass grows in tussocks and flattens in waves with each gust of wind, only to spring back up as fresh as a bunch of flowers. It was nothing like the uniform green of the grass back home that almost looked combed, with too much gel. Each strand was wild and slightly yellow under the sun and beneath the each was bare soil. Baked and powdery. But the grass isn’t what enchants me. It’s the big Weeping Willow that stand by itself off on its own in the far corner. Different to the others that stand in the soil around it, but beautiful just the same. The pale green leaves float from it’s head all the way to the floor. Gently brushing the grass with each blow of wind. This is where I hide.

The school bell echoes around my head as I take my first step through the school gate. “Off to the dreaded halls” I say to myself.

The halls are always crowded with people and I hate the chaos that it brings. There was that couple who are always together on the left side, about ten meters down there down there is the group of cliquey girls next to them the cliquey boys. Opposite them the Jocks and scattered in between and scattered in between the band geeks with their huge instrument cases. The aerospace kids who never do anything but make paper planes and the fashion kids who wheel mannequins and clothing racks down the halls and then there is me walking all alone not wanting to turn the corner because of what lays behind. The cool squad the ‘gang’ and all of it’s bullies waiting and wanting to their words to sink into my skin draw blood like a knife and leave me there on the cold dusty wooden floor. My foot tiptoed round the corner. But the evil squinting eyes that had already seen me.

His name is Tony… we used to be friends but then I was not good enough for him. His was tall, thin and strong; what every boy wants to be really. His mane of chocolate brown hair fell around his eyes. The same vivid blue of my grandpa’s but meaner. Freckles crawled up his nose, sitting on his cheek. I am not jealous I don’t know why every other boy is. I would rather be me…Chubby, with flaming red hair, eyes the colour of dirt, but always be nice, I could not bully anyone, maybe it was the experiences he had given me but I could not and would not do what he was doing to me.

“Hey fatty what are you doing in my hall” I ignore the comment not wanting the knife beneath my skin. “Oy, listen to me” still ignoring. Something cold and hard hit my shoulder. My left arm instantly fell limp, hanging around my hips. “Please leave me alone” my words came out in a whisper, I am not scared of him just the things that he is capable of doing. “Sorry little fatty, but your Mum is dead, your dad is well who knows where he is?! And your Grandpa what is he going to do. He does not have much life left in him. What are you going to do when he dies?”

The knife had been stabbed into my skin. My blood boiling, I turned away, not wanting him to see the hot salty tears running down my cheeks. My right arm had pins and needles from holding all my books. With a crash they all landed on the floor. Bending down to pick them up his foot rose into the air and came slamming down he kicked my science book and it struck me on the head. I was dizzy everything a blur. My cheeks wet, my arm sore, my head twirling in circles and nobody thought to help me, I must have walked into hundreds of people but nobody stopped me not even one.

Chapter Three…

Slowly stumbling across the field, the grass was brushing against my knees making me itchy. I sat down on the wet dirt. My back leaning against the mosey trunk of the old Weeping Willow. I sat there the whole day repeating what my grandpa said to me “respect is earned. Honesty appreciated. Trust is gained. Loyalty is returned” I could hear his voice. As I repeated this over and over I forgot about my arm and my head stopped flipping. No one came looking for me nobody care that I was not there.

Later when the bell rang echoing through the school. I had to sit and wait. Wait for the gossipers to leave the school court. Wait for the after school groups to disappear. I waited and I waited. Finally, the last voices trailed off into the distance. The sun lay low in the sky now, but you could not see it that clear. Great dark clouds filled the sky laying so low I think if I jumped I could touch them.

Walking home. Rain failing around me. Grey clouds hanging by threads from the sky. The wind was cold, every time it whipped around my legs it sent an icy shiver crawling up my spine, it would then retreat to were goose bumps would prick at my skin one by one. I shivered. Water was seeping into my shoes from hole in the sole of my shoe. My socks were drenched. I hoped that they would dry in time for school tomorrow because they were the only pair I have. Creeping up my street not wanting to be seen. Something was wrong there was a wailing of a siren it pierced through the silent dark night. There were flickering lights and then I saw it. An Ambulance. It speeds down my road and pulled in a number 4 Private Drive. That’s my house. That’s where I live.

I sprinted towards my drive way rain blurring my vision. My feet were barley touching the ground. Something is wrong. “Tony has cursed me, tony has cursed me” This time I did not care that teas where racing down my face plugging onto the concreate. I did not care that the lights of the houses flicked on as I screamed “Grandpa, Grandpa.”

As I approached the house I could see him laying silent and still on the stretcher. “Hello, do you know this man” I whipped around it was a girl, if I had not had been so worried I would have taken time to properly look at her she was pretty… She had brown hair that bobbed around her shoulders and light green eyes. Her eyes tilted down at the ends like a cats. Her cheeks are painted with tiny golden brown specks and her smile stretched up her face touch her eyes. I do not know how she was smiling but I forced my lips to curl into one to.

He was silent, still, lifeless. “A stroke” I could hear the doctors whispering but I choose not to listen I knew that it was a stroke, it has happened before only he has not been this still for three hours after it had happened.

He was silent, still, lifeless. “A stroke” I could hear the doctors whispering but I choose not to listen I knew that it was a stroke, it has happened before only he has not been this still for three hours after it had happened.

The flush of red that usually sat on his cheeks was no longer there. His eyes were closed, the vivid blue no longer there to stare at. I am scared. Hot steamy tears filed my eyes seeping onto my cheeks, everything a blur. No colour, just black.

Chapter Four…

“Murphey” the words came out in a cough and a splutter. “Murphy my boy come sit” Tears still flooding my eyes, the weight on my shoulders made it impossible to lift my feet off the ground, I shuffled over. The bright blue that I loved so much was fading away. The once glittering vivid blue was now a normal pale blue “Your da da dad, he is coming. He will look after you. More tears filled my eyes, I just did not know if they were the happy or sad types of tears.

“Grandpa, thank you for looking after me when no one else could. I, I love you, and then I could not hold it in anymore.

“It’s fine my boy. Just do me a favour always remember that respect is earned. Honesty appreciated. Trust is gained. Loyalty is returned. His eyes closed as he drew his last wheezy breath.

Tears, sad tears and not just for minutes’ hours and hours of tears. My head pounded with a headache but my swollen, red, puffy, itchy eyes showed no signs of stopping not even for a second.

A hand lay on my shoulder but I did not look up, the same nurse had been in at least two hundred time since his eyes closed.

Looking at him now, the hand shifted of my shoulder. His eyes were closed. His cheeks still soft but white no longer red with life; white with death. I knew this would happen. But I just did know why the time had to be now. “respect is earned. Honesty appreciated. Trust is gained. Loyalty is returned” this whizzed around and around my head.

“Come on Murphy let’s get going” it was a man’s voice. I slowly turned my head around to discover the figure that sat on the couch next to the bed. He looks like me. His arm’s open wide and I run “Dad”

I don’t go back to that school. Not after what happened. I go to a new school and I make friends. Now I am older I am studying and training and I bet that you can guess what I am training to be.

Hi my name is Murphey, is it weird that I love the night? Does that make me strange? I think that the night sky is just beautiful, the stars twinkling just out of my reach. I could grab one, I will grab one but not today, maybe another. The Moon is my favourite, it sits there way up in the sky hanging off a piece of string holding out it’s hand waiting and wanting to be explored… By Me.

I am still me, but things have changed. I am training to be an astronaut. I live with my dad. Still in the same old leaky house that has the old drafts. But there is one thing that I always remember…

"Respect is earned, Honesty appreciated, Trust is gained, Loyalty returned

and believe me I always will.

Joanne Rowling also known as J.K Rowling was born on 31st July 1965 at Yate General Hospital just outside Bristol, and grew up in Gloucestershire in England and in Chepstow, Gwent, in south-east Wales. Her father, Peter, was an aircraft engineer at the Rolls Royce factory in Bristol and her mother, Anne, was a science technician in the Chemistry department at Wyedean Comprehensive, where Jo herself went to school.

The young Jo grew up surrounded by books as her Mother and Father loved to read. “I lived for books,’’ she has said. “I was your basic common-or-garden bookworm, complete with freckles and National Health spectacles, but her favourite was little woman by Louisa May Alcott, her Literacy Heroine being Jo March, from little woman. She says “it is hard to overstate what meant to be a small, plain girl called Jo, who had a hot temper and a burning ambition to be a writer.” Jo March inspired her and made her believe that she too could become a writer on day. Joanne wanted to be a writer from an early age. She wrote her first story at the age of six –about a rabbit, called ‘Rabbit’. At just eleven, she wrote her first novel – about seven cursed diamonds and the people who owned them.

Jo left home at eighteen for Exeter University, where she studied French and classics. She read so widely outside her French and Classics syllabus that she clocked up a fine of £50 for overdue books at the University library. Her knowledge of Classics would one day come in handy for creating the spells in the Harry Potter series, some of which are based on Latin!

Her course included a year in Paris, where she shared an apartment with an Italian, a Russian and a Spaniard. “I lived in Paris for a year as a student,” Jo said after the 2015 terrorist attacks there. “It’s one of my favourite places on earth.” After her degree, she moved to London and worked in a series of jobs, including one as a researcher at Amnesty International. “There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.”

She married Jorge Arantes in October 1992 and had a daughter, Jessica, in 1993. When the marriage ended later that year, she returned to the UK to live in Edinburgh, carrying not just Jessica but a suitcase containing the first three chapters of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. In Edinburgh, Jo trained as a teacher and began teaching in the city’s schools, but she continued to write in every spare moment. Having completed the full manuscript, she sent the first three chapters to a number of literary agents, one of whom wrote back asking to see the rest of it. She says it was “the best letter I had ever received in my life.” J.K. Rowling has been married to Dr Neil Murray since 2001. They live in Edinburgh with their son, David (born 2003) and daughter, Mackenzie (born 2005).

J.K. Rowling has been married to Dr Neil Murray since 2001. They live in Edinburgh with their son, David (born 2003) and daughter, Mackenzie (born 2005).

Written under the name J.K. Rowling. The “K” stands for Kathleen, her grandmother’s name. This was added at her publisher’s request, who thought a book by an obviously female author might not appeal to the target audience of young boys. Her first novel was published in the US under a different title, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, in 1998. American publishers thought that children would not want to read a book with the word ‘philosopher’ in the title and after some discussion, the American edition was published in September 1998 under the title that J.K Rowling suggested ‘Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone’. After selling extremely well publishes decided to try ‘Harry Potter and the Philosophers stone’ and to no surprise the books kept flying off the shelves. Six further titles followed in the Harry Potter series, each achieving record-breaking success loved by fans around the world the series has sold over 450 million copies, been translated into 77 different languages and been made into 8 block buster films. Joanne has written three companion volumes in the aid of charity: Quidditch through the Ages and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. With these books JK Rowling went from being unemployed living of neighborhood support to becoming a multi-millionaire in five years. Because of a book that’s initial ideas were written on a napkin while on a train to London!

Harry Potter is bullied by his Uncle, Aunt and cousin, because of who he is. Harry is a wizard and the people he lives with don’t like it. Harry gets a letter from Hogwarts the school of magic and from there his life is a rainbow of colour. He makes friends, gets into trouble and has lots of fun. A tale about finding out the truth and the best of yourself. Friendship and magic in my mind equals a wonderful book.

In my opinion Harry Potter and the Philosophers stone is an amazing book. In my mind it teaches people to be themselves; not change because someone doesn’t like who you are or what you do. It is a brilliant story told in a simple way but still manages to enchant you. Harry Potter and the philosopher’s stone is part of a series and believe me if you like the first book it is impossible to keep your hands off the next!

Galileo Galilei; a Polymath like no other

Galileo Galilei was born on 15 February 1564 in Pisa and was educated at the Camaldolese Monastery at Vallombrosa. In 1581 he was sent by his father to enrol for a medical degree at the University of Pisa. Galileo never seemed to have taken medical studies seriously, attending courses on his real interests which were in mathematics and natural philosophy. He left Pisa in 1585 without completing his medical degree and began teaching mathematics in Florence and later at Siena. During the summer of 1586 he taught at Vallombrosa and in this year he wrote his first scientific book The little balance which described the Archimedes' method of finding the specific gravities of substances using a balance. His reputation grew and in 1588 he received a prestigious invitation to lecture on the dimensions and location of hell in Dante's Inferno at the Academy in Florence. In 1589, Galileo was appointed to the Chair of Mathematics at the University of Pisa where he wrote De Motu a series of essays on the theory of motion which he never formally published. The book contains his important idea that one can test theories by conducting experiments and gave the famous example of testing falling bodies using an inclined plane to slow down the rate of descent.

In 1591, Vincenzo Galilei, Galileo's father, died and as the eldest son Galileo had to provide financial support for the rest of the family. Being Professor of Mathematics at Pisa was not well paid, so Galileo lobbied for a more lucrative post. In 1592, Galileo was appointed Professor of Mathematics at the University of Padua; a salary of three times that he had received at Pisa. On 7 December 1592 he gave his inaugural lecture and began a period of 18 years at the University, years which he later described as the happiest of his life. At Padua his duties were mainly to teach Euclid's geometry and standard geocentric astronomy to medical students, who would need to know some astronomy in order to make use of astrology in their medical practice. While in Padua, Galileo publicly argued against Aristotle's view of astronomy and natural philosophy.

At Padua, Galileo began a long‐term relationship with Maria Gamba; however, they never married. In 1600 their first child Virginia was born, followed by a second daughter, Livia, in the following year. In 1606 their son Vincenzo was born. Much later when his daughters were being educated at the Franciscan Convent of St Matthew outside Florence, Virginia took the name Sister Maria Celeste and Livia the name Sister Arcangela. Since they had been born outside of marriage, Galileo believed that they themselves should never marry.

In May 1609, Galileo received a report telling him about a spyglass that a Dutchman had shown in Venice. Using his own technical skills as a mathematician and as a craftsman, Galileo began to make a series of telescopes whose optical performance was much better than that of the Dutch instrument. His first telescope was made from available lenses and gave a magnification of about four times. To improve on this Galileo learned how to grind and polish his own lenses, and by August 1609 he had an instrument with a magnification of around eight or nine. Galileo immediately saw the commercial and military applications of his telescope (which he called a perspicillum) for ships at sea.

By the end of 1609 Galileo had turned his telescope on the night sky and began to make remarkable discoveries which he described in a short book called the Starry Messenger, published in Venice in May 1610. Galileo claimed to have seen mountains on the Moon, to have proved the Milky Way was made up of tiny stars, seen (although not understood their nature) the rings of Saturn, four small bodies orbiting Jupiter, and most importantly noted that the planet Venus showed phases like those of the Moon, and therefore must orbit the Sun, not the Earth. Galileo knew that all his discoveries were evidence for Copernicanism, although not a proof. Other observations made by Galileo included the observation of sunspots. He reported these in Discourse on floating bodies which he published in 1612 and more fully in Letters on the sunspots, which appeared in 1613.

The Jovian moons, with an eye to getting a position in Florence, he quickly named 'the Medicean stars'. He had also sent Cosimo de Medici, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, an excellent telescope for himself. In June 1610, only a month after his famous little book was published, Galileo resigned his post at Padua and became Chief Mathematician at the University of Pisa (without any teaching duties) and Mathematician and Philosopher to the Grand Duke of Tuscany.

In 1611, he visited Rome where he was treated as a leading celebrity. He was also made a member of the Accademia dei Lincei and this was an honour which was especially important to Galileo who signed himself 'Galileo Galilei Linceo' from this time on.

Despite his private support for Copernicanism, Galileo tried to avoid controversy by not making public statements on the issue. At a meeting in the Medici Palace in Florence in December 1613 with the Grand Duke Cosimo II and his mother the Grand Duchess Christina of Lorraine, Castelli, the successor to Galileo in the Chair of Mathematics at Pisa, was asked to explain the apparent contradictions between the Copernican theory and Holy Scripture. Castelli defended the Copernican position vigorously and wrote to Galileo afterwards telling him how successful he had been in putting the arguments. Galileo, less convinced that Castelli had won the argument, wrote Letter to Castelli to him arguing that the Bible had to be interpreted in the light of what science had shown to be true. Galileo's enemies ensured that a copy of the Letter to Castelli was sent to the Inquisition in Rome. However, after examining its contents they found little to which they could object. The point at issue for the Inquisition was whether Copernicus had simply put forward a mathematical theory which enabled the calculation of the positions of the heavenly bodies to be made more simply or whether he was proposing a physical reality.

In 1616 Galileo wrote a letter to the Grand Duchess Christina of Lorraine which vigorously attacked the followers of Aristotle. In this work, he argued strongly for a non‐literal interpretation of Holy Scripture when the literal interpretation would contradict facts about the physical world proved by mathematical science. In this Galileo stated quite clearly that for him the Copernican theory is not just a mathematical calculating tool, but is a physical reality: “…I hold that the Sun is located at the centre of the revolutions of the heavenly orbs and does not change place, and that the Earth rotates on itself and moves around it. Moreover ... I confirm this view not only by refuting Ptolemy's and Aristotle's arguments, but also by producing many for the other side, especially some pertaining to physical effects whose causes perhaps cannot be determined in any other way, and other astronomical discoveries; these discoveries clearly confute the Ptolemaic system, and they agree admirably with this other position and confirm it”. Pope Paul V then ordered that Sacred Congregation of the Index decide on the Copernican theory. The cardinals of the Inquisition met on 24 February 1616 and took evidence from theological experts. They condemned the teachings of Copernicus and the decision was conveyed to Galileo, who had not been personally involved in the trial. Galileo was forbidden to hold Copernican views. Maffeo Barberini, who was an admirer of Galileo, was elected as Pope Urban VIII and invited Galileo to papal audiences on six occasions and led Galileo to believe that the Catholic Church would not make an issue of the Copernican theory. Galileo, therefore, decided to publish his views believing that he could do so without serious consequences from the Church. By this stage in his life Galileo's health was poor and it took him 6 years to complete his famous Dialogio. Galileo attempted to obtain permission from Rome to publish the Dialogue in 1630, but this did not prove easy. Eventually he received permission from Florence, not Rome. In February 1632 Galileo published Dialogue concerning the two chief systems of the world: Ptolemaic and Copernican and shortly after its publication the Inquisition banned its sale and ordered Galileo to appear in Rome before them. Galileo's accusation at the trial which followed was that he had breached the conditions laid down by the Inquisition in 1616. However, a different version of this decision was produced at the trial rather than the one Galileo had been given at the time. When found guilty and after making his abjuration of heliocentricity, he famously uttered the apocryphal words to himself “Epur si muove” (And yet it does move).

Galileo was condemned to lifelong imprisonment, but the sentence was carried out somewhat sympathetically and it amounted to house arrest rather than a prison sentence. In 1634, he suffered a severe blow when his daughter Virginia, Sister Maria Celeste, died. She had been a great support to her father through his illnesses and Galileo was shattered and could not work for many months. When he did manage to restart work, he began to write Discourses and mathematical demonstrations concerning the two new sciences. After Galileo had completed work on the Discourses it was smuggled out of Italy, and taken to Leyden in Holland, where it was published. It was his most rigorous mathematical work which treated problems on impetus, moments, and centres of gravity. In the Discourses he developed some of his most famous and enduring mathematical ideas, such as on the motion of objects on an inclined plane, the acceleration of free‐falling bodies, as well as the movement of the pendulum.

Galileo died in Arcetri (near Florence) on 8 January 1642. It was a sad end for so great a man to die condemned of heresy. His will indicated that he wished to be buried beside his father in the family tomb in the Basilica of Santa Croce, but his relatives rightly feared that this would provoke opposition from the Church. His body was concealed and only placed in a fine tomb in the church in 1737 by the civil authorities against the wishes of many in the Church. On 31 October 1992, 350 years after Galileo's death, Pope John Paul II gave an address on behalf of the Catholic Church

My Dog = My Friend

The old wooden rickety gate opened in front of us, revealing a realm of trees that stood high above the grass. Pretty little wild flowers that crept up fences and popped up in the hedge, but as looked around I knew that something wasn't right because standing in the middle of the field of towering trees stood a little dog ; best friend.

There she was her tail wagging, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight and her legs started to run, running like the wind out the gate, past the foot path, out onto the road; were she decided it would be a good place to sit down. And there in the middle of the road she sat. Everything from there stopped. Except one thing...


a bright blue one right over the top of her. There she lay. Silent, still.

Chocolate biscuits = Hooks


Running. The wind lifting my hair of my shoulders, my legs hardly touching the ground and then I stopped, because the world wasn’t spinning anymore.

Heat hit my head my blood started to boil, this meant war!

The time ticked and my legs kicked.

He told my “I’ll be here in a month” but then he drove off, leaving me there. Tears filled me eyes and I started to cry. I felt empty like a piece of me was missing and in a way it was.

Last second last touch.

The bell rang, kids ran to their class but I didn’t know where mine was, until she said “come on then, come with me”

Wicked Witches Brew


Double double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Feather of a weka and head of a kaka In the caldron boil and bake fire spit and lava hiss; A Takaha’s blood red toe and some yellow snow from that mountain that likes to grow. A Kiwi’s broken beak oh so to speak, Tuatara’s toenail and in with that left over ale. In the pot lets watch it bubble, The stubble from a tui’s chin And the eye and a kea all slimy and weak, oh what fun to see, The leaf of silver fern in the pot and watch it burn Double double toil and trouble Fire burn and caldron bubble


The soft morning rays of sunshine fluttered around the room. My head sinking into the pillow that lay sound asleep on the edge of my bed. The clatter of bowls climbing up the stairs, cries and screams of little girls as the hair brushes were pulled down the matted twine of blonde hair. The bags were packed and ready, the chiller bags sitting on the bench. I would move but it was the eight hours that made me stay curled up in a ball on my bed. The indiscriminate choice for a trip to Welling ton had finally dawned on me, I could no longer face my opponent, so there I stayed curled up in a ball rocking from side to side, left to right and forward and back.

I was replete with fear, but I was sitting in the car anyway and had been for the last three hours and I still had at least five to go. Tree's were shooting up in the distant, sun peaking out of the light fluffy clouds that merrily floated around in the pale blue sky, until we got to Taupo. That's when the storm hit. Grey clouds filled the sky above me. Tiny dancing rain drops rain down the wind screen of the windscreen of the car plunging themselves to death on the cold, cracked concrete. New it was thunders turn to be heard it shook the car rattling my ears, sounding it's friend...lighting. The Eminent storm hovered around us for hours never stopping for a second to rest.

Bright lights flooded the car. Sleep taunted with my brain, but we were there

Was it really worth the eight hour journey? Well that question I cannot and will not answer!


Created with images by Christopher.Michel - "‪Hardest thing to do in photography: Find inspiration in the commonplace. ‬" • Hella TJ - "Mess" • Packie_s - "IMG_8029.jpg" • onlysemicharmed - "PA304893"

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