St Francis pupil is a budding nature writer

James, aged 12, and a pupil at St Francis School, Pewsey responded to The Guardian‘s appeal for children aged 8-14 to submit a piece of writing about the natural world to be included in their Young Country Diary column. James’s writing, based on a trip to Branscombe beach, Devon, with his brothers, was one of only six winning entries.  It appeared in The Guardian on January 1, 2022.

James creates the atmosphere of a cold December day and describes the fossils he found. Guardian editor, Paul Fleckney, praised the writing saying it had ‘a Hemingway-ish quality to it.’

Deputy Head, Academic, at St Francis, Ginny Neal, commented, “James’s piece about a winter’s trip to the beach with his family was wonderfully evocative, and his being published in The Guardian in the New Year was richly deserved. Well done to James, and we look forward to seeing more wonderful writing!”  

Here is James’s winning entry :

Branscombe Beach, Devon

The sun has risen from its slumber, its light reflecting on the still water. I go outside, attacked by the icy winds blowing hard. I retreat into my home to fetch my coat. December days are the coldest of all. I pass the hours skimming stones and making fires – watching the flames dance always helps me relax. I watch as my brothers play with the rocks, seeing how far they can throw. I join them, throwing stones until my arm becomes sore.

Lunch now. My stomach growls as my mum hands me my food. I sit outside, watching the waves of the Channel, eating my ham sandwich and drinking a juice box. After, I go for a walk, climbing over big rocks and exploring caves. I look at the cliffs, searching for treasure. But what’s this? I see small shells embedded into the rocks.

I pick at the shells, prying seven from the cliff. Ammonites, I tell myself, recognising the twisted shape. Fossils as old as the dinosaurs. I turn towards the sea. I think of the shells floating in the water, not rocks, but alive. I put an image in my head of them drifting in the ever-blue, tiny tentacles limp and lifeless, like in the books.

I put them in my pocket and set off for home. The sun sets as I reach my house, the stars shimmering above my head like little lights in the dark sky.

James, 12