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What is Falcon 9?
There has been a lot of excitement about Falcon 9, but what it it, and why is it so exciting? Our Science Editor, Samantha Gouldson, explains.
What Makes a Family?
What does the word ‘family’ mean to you? It can mean many things in our society. Some define family as a mother, a father and one or more children. For others, there don’t need to be children in the home for there to be a family. Where there are children, about three quarters of the parents will be married to each other.
In 2013 the Office of National Statistics, which is a government body which takes surveys on all manner of topics to help the government make policy (rules under which we all live), found that there were 18.2 million people living in this type of family. Many more of us have families which have a different make-up. For the purpose of the survey, a family is defined as people living in the same household.
However, as many of you will know, there are other ways in which we describe our family. There are children who have two parents of the same gender, there are children who have only one parent with whom they live, other children have guardians and live with aunts, uncles or grandparents.
The Fall – A Short Story in Three Parts – Part One
This is a short story in three parts, by 10 year old Alice
My mates are all leaning against the peeling black-painted gate, chatting and laughing, while I stand, nearby, twitching nervously.
“Oi,” Jules waves for me to come over to him. “Now, I have a suggestion. Kieran here,” he pauses, gesturing to me by his head, “is new to our gang. What about we see if he is worthy, eh?”
They all chuckle, nodding, with sly grins. I don’t understand.
Jules raises his eyebrows. Jules’s blonde curls, flapping in the wind, obviously getting in his eyes, always lure girls in.
A stout boy, leans over, and Jules whispers in his ear. He laughs, and tells the other boys. But not me.
“I have a friend up those steps, Flat 33. Go get some skunk for us, okay?” Jules flings a several notes at me, and I bend over to pick up the missed one.
I have no idea what skunk is. I have no idea what this money is for, what is up those stairs, or what is on the third floor. And I especially have no idea what is on Flat 33. I don’t really want to have an idea what any of them are.
I pause, trying to work out my odds.
“Awh, are you scared? Awh… lil’ baby Kieran is scared…” a spotty boy says, patronisingly.
I flatten out my fleece, and finger my ear piercing that I never really wanted. “Am not,” I say limply, and head towards the stairs Jules was pointing me towards, shivering in fear. Once I am out of the gang’s sight, I scurry to the top of the stairs, and flatten myself on the nearest wall. I check my surroundings. Grimy white walls, dusty steps, bent rails, squawking of birds, faint clomp of high-heels, and a strong musty smell.
Hearing the gang laughing, saying I will never do it, I straighten my back, and I stomp up another two flights of stairs. Once I get to the second floor, I wince. I just want to cower into a ball, and fly back down the stairs, and go right back home – no, not home, to somewhere safe. But I can’t. Ican’tIcan’tIcan’t! While still hunched, I stare along the balconies either side of me. Squinting terribly, I can make out three doors on my right and one says ‘16’. It must be on the other side. Turning towards the left, I hope for no risks. I am still clutching a crumpled collection of notes. I decide this isn’t a safe call, and stuff them into my fleece pockets, trembling. I reach Flat 33. I freeze. Gathering up every last morsel of courage inside me, I force my hand forward. It shoots forward, hitting a single bash on the door.
All I can hear is grumbling, creaking, and soft footsteps. My heart misses a beat as the door opens.
He looks me up and down. “Here to buy?”
I nod my head. He ushers me in. His flat smells strongly of that smell of the wood chip in a children’s playground, and a tomato plant. It made me feel slightly light-headed it was so strong. An over-powering smell of cigarettes oozed from the walls, making me feel dizzy and sick. I try not to breathe it in, but I soon run out of breath. It’s horrible.
“So, who told you about this place?” the man said, his voice crackly with age. He had a pipe in his mouth, sticking out diagonally.
“Jules, he said you were a friend to him,” I say, trying to mimic his bold Cockney accent.
“Ah yes, that arrogant Jules. Brash young thing he is,” he said. “So, what do you want?”
“Skunk,” I say, uncertainly.
He gives me a look, with no real emotions, or indications of what he is thinking. He picks out a small plastic bag, filled with a murky green powdery substance inside. He lifts up his hands, and raises his eyebrows. He obviously doesn’t think I can pay it. Confidently, I stuff the notes into his palm, beaming.
He shuffles through the small heap of crumpled notes. “You’re five quid off.”
My face sinks. “That was all he gave me.”
“Ah, my prices have risen,” he smirks. “I’ll make him pay it when he next comes. That happened last time, made one of his mates get it for him. Lazy lad he is. He has to pay £10 extra you know… and it’s still rising…”
I let him burble for a bit, while I back towards the door, holding the tiny plastic bag in my clammy hand. When I get the chance, I slip, “Thank you!” in his babble, and leave.
I fled down the flights of stairs, but once I was in the eye-view of the gang, I slowed down and coolly strolled. Jules gave everyone a cigarette, who casually slipped it between their fingers, and filled it with a tiny portion of the murky green powder, and inhaled. I tried to copy everyone with holding the cigarette properly, but it kept on slipping. After I filled it with the last of the green powder, I took a long, anticipated breath.
It was…. calming. It was addictive.
Stories from the Stables – Part 3 – Ziggy and Ned
At the large livery yard I used to work at, I rode a range of bigger horses and exercised show jumpers and ex-racehorses for owners who were on holiday. Two in particular will always be in my memory as they were both utterly bonkers.
Lots of Socks for World Down Syndrome Day
Do you sometimes wear non-matching socks? When you can’t find ones to match or just because you want to? Well on the 21st March you have the perfect excuse to and Agi is going to tell you why.
Agi has been making videos about her life with her little sister, who just happens to have Down Syndrome, for many years. We asked her to tell us more about this condition, and about life with Magdalena and to share some of her videos with us.
Firstly though who am I?
I’m called Agnieszka (Agi for short) and I am home educated with my little sister Magdalena, who is 7 years old. I have a website which I blog on about our life together and anything else I am interested in. I want to be a filmmaker when I’m older, and you can view lots of films that I’ve made on my website, and Magdalena wants to be an artist. She is one of my best friends. We have loads of fun together, and I don’t treat her any differently or treat her ‘specially’, even though she happens to have Down’s syndrome. Which is where the lots of socks come in…but first, let me explain.
I would never have known this unless my little sister, Magdalena was born with an extra 21st chromosome.
Have you worked out yet why World Down Syndrome day is on the 21st of March?
It’s because people with Down syndrome have three chromosomes on chromosome number 21, instead of the usual two. This is also known as Trisomy 21.
Why is it Called Down’s Syndrome?
So why call it Down’s syndrome? No, it’s not because people with Down’s syndrome are ‘down’ or grumpy, it’s actually because Dr John Langdon Down discovered the condition, and it was named after him.
Lot’s of people my age don’t know what Down’s syndrome is, (actually lots of adults don’t either) and that can make them scared of what they don’t know about, so they ignore Magdalena or talk ABOUT her instead of TO her or say something unkind thinking she won’t understand or be hurt by it. So before I get onto the socks, I want to tell you a bit about what Down’s Syndrome is and what it isn’t!