Essay

The first IGCSE essay I wrote last year. Got a B, but when I asked how I could improve it, the teacher really had nothing to say. So it's A* material, it's just that there's nothing wrong with it. I remember really going for it enthusiastically, pouring pure soul into it. Best writing and all. Thought I would share it. Again, part of my new outlook on life.

Nabeul.

A little over two years ago, my family and I went on holiday to Tunisia. It was cheaper if we went before a certain date, so I didn't get to go in for the last two days of school. I'm told I didn't miss much, though.

When we got there, everything went as planned. We found our rooms, and we were pleasantly surprised to find our bags were already there. One less thing to find in the morning. We had just enough time to rummage round for toothbrush and toothpaste before collapsing into the warm, soft beds. There was a mosquito buzzing menacingly around, but we didn’t mind. We were too tired to mind. It was an enjoyable kind of tired, though, it meant it was easier to get to sleep (which was exactly what we were wanted), as opposed to it being harder to stay awake.

The first few days were spent as per usual finding our way around, locating where the important places were in relation to the rooms. It turned out that the beach, pool, bar and restaurant were all very near each other, which was convenient. Like everything else really. One could tell that every last detail had been designed for the satisfaction of each and every holiday-maker. It was fantastic. It was never too busy, either, despite rumours of the village being filled to capacity. It somehow seemes as though there were alwaysplenty of people to talk to, but at the same time one could always find a quiet, relaxing place to rest. There was always plenty to do, such as a football match that could be improvised on the spur of the moment, or a game of water-polo with very flexible teams. Yet I was never properly tired. It was as if energy was not taken into account, and one only slept out of pleasure, the beds being so comfortable.

Nobody had a care in the world for those two weeks, unless it was something along the lines of “I wonder who I’m going to meet at dinner this evening?”. The atmosphere was one of universal tranquillity, I could sense that everyone was genuinely happy to be there.

The mediterranean weather was astounding, a positively picturesque sun shining every single day. At night the stars would come out and shine particularly brightly, as if they, too, wished to share the good mood.

In the evenings, I would go out on to the beach with Natalie, an exceptionally beautiful girl I had met by the pool on the first day of the trip. We would lie on deckchairs and talk for hours. Afterwards we would sit quietly, simply listening to the sound of the waves, holding hand.

I have many great memories of that holiday. I would not, however, ever like to return, for fear of a negative experience, which might tarnish the paradise-like image I hold in my head.

Alex Brown,
Wednesday, 15th September 2004.

The set question was "Describe the most beautiful place you have ever seen." It wasn't hard to find the inspiration. I wrote from the heart. There are so many little details in there that actually mean something, but only to me, so I won't bore you all to death any more than I feel is necessary (remember you are reading this by choice) by cramming every single one (I could never remeber them all, and sometimes I later find things which I had never known were there.) down your earholes. The teacher's comments aren't worth the ink they're written in. They are too perfectionist, attempting to remove the human, personal touch I injected into my text.

And I still think that on the scale of humanity and teenagerhood, it runs rings around "The Tree", which, although well written, was frankly boring.