1.​ Write a description of a place you would like to go back to.

Amidst the loud noises of the bustling city and a sleepless 9-5 driven on coffee, there was one
place I longed to be. My family and I went there every summer when my siblings and I were
younger. We would spend our time picking bright red strawberries off the bushes to make jam;
climb trees and cool off by splashing around in the many cold streams, and knit dresses for
dolls. For some it was Christmas or new year’s; birthdays or thanksgiving; but for me, summers
at my grandmother’s quaint white-brick cottage off the coast was the most cherished time of
the year.

They sold it off once she passed, a couple of years ago. Remembering the aroma of her freshly
baked, hot, gooey chocolate chip cookies, which in my opinion was the best in the world,
evoked a sense of nostalgia and longing for a simpler time.

In the picturesque little town were the kindest people, always ready for a good long chat
anytime, anywhere. Bougainvillea covered vines ran across ever white walls. Endless orchards
filled with dancing trees of all kinds, bore the juiciest fruits with birds of all shapes and colors
building their nests. The pastry shop down the road run by a sweet old couple had the purest
coffees and cakes, the thought of which made my mouth water.

Weekends were spent driving down to the beach. It would be crowdless and empty, save for the
seagulls squawking loudly and the pinch of crabs every now and then. My sisters and I would
get 3 shades darker under the scorching sun. We would collect multi colored sea shells and
grandma would string them into beautiful necklaces. Building sandcastles, determined to bury
each other in the sand, we would battle each other ferociously in the silly games we played. All
of it was an uncomplicated pleasure.

The painted town was a second home, a sweet escape, somewhere where nobody could
question us. At that age it was freedom at its finest, little did 12 year old me know how much of
an escape it really was. Frolicking in the lush green gardens with various different flowers,
getting dirty in the grainy soil and back home for warm home-cooked meals she would happily
make now seemed like a fading dream. The longing to go back engulfed me in a cocoon of
bittersweet feelings. I could go back to my old happy place, but it just wouldn’t be the same
without her.
2. Write a description with the title, ‘By the light of the Moon’.

Moonlight shone across the lonely campsite, illuminating my view of the structured himalayan
mountains descending one after the other. Its snow-covered tips forming shields atop the
rugged peaks, glared down at me. Tall trees of pine, juniper and fir towered over and reached
for the sky. Icy wind blew fiercely all around, causing the nylon of my yellow tent to ruffle like
waves. Nothing but the strong flow of wind, the hoot of a lone owl and the crunch of grass and
rubble under my boots could be heard.

I sat down on my folding chair and listened to the hum of the forest. It was soothing and
mesmerising. Staring down at the grey fumes of the exhausted campfire rising up and quickly
dissipating into the cold winter air, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness and despair as I
wondered how people camp alone as often as they do. Not a creature in sight. I could hear their
slow murmurs and whistles; I could feel them staring me down; but not one in sight. They lay
hidden among the secrets of the forest under the night.

I popped open my steel thermos and took a sip of whatever the Tibetan locals had brewed for
my ascent. It had a soft taste of salt and subtle spice, sending gentle warmth slowly into my
throat. The gentle concoction, though completely unknown, was just what was needed. My
focus shifted to my short lived breaths. It was a chilly night. The type of weather you yearn for
during the summer; cold but not unbearably so. A soft smile covered my face as I blew warmth
into my hands and could see the ghost-like breath vapour escaping my mouth.

Suffering from sleeplessness, I unzipped the tent and stepped out. I roamed aimlessly around
under the guiding light of the full and bright moon. A sense of hope and gratefulness took over
my mind and soul. Engulfed by the peace and serenity of the foothills of the Himalayas, I felt
the pressures of life lift off. I gazed up at the layered peaks, the spaced out trees- tallest I had
ever seen, and my eyes connected with another pair for just one second. The owl’s
golden-yellow pair of eyes glistened atop a tree branch. It's silhouette made visible by the light
of the moon. It let out a shrill hoot and flew away into the night. Awestruck by the beauty
around me, I was reminded of the infinite possibilities that exist in this world. It made me feel
connected to something greater than myself. By the light of the moon, everything felt right.
3. Imagine you have been away from home for a long time. Describe what you see and your thoughts
and feelings during your journey home.
Rays of soft sunlight peered out from thick, heavy clouds and chose to fall on my skin. My cold palm
cupped my cheek as I stared out of the train’s clear glass window. Lush green hills covered my view as
the train sped through bridges and tunnels, crossing evergreen farmlands and hill plantations. Clouds
fell on top of the tall mighty hills of Himachal Pradesh; I watched as mini-stations and tiny villages
with multi-coloured rooftops whiz by me as the noiseless bullet train travelled 150 km per hour. 2
more hours were left to go.

Inside the train, moods were solemn though my spirits were exclusively high with the air conditioning
at full blast. I watched the people around me. A middle-aged man vigorously typed away, his face
emotionless across my seat. Down along the aisle was a grandmother with her 10 year old
granddaughter giggling away. Behind me were a young couple watching a movie together on a shared
phone. Meanwhile I sat with faint R&B music humming into my ear, staring out the window,
absentmindedly twirling the wire of my earphones.

As my foot tapped to the beats playing in my ears, my mind wandered here and there spaciously. I was
going home after 5 long years. Non- stop work kept my life completely busy and when I finally found
the time the awful pandemic hit. Moments of my childhood played in my head like a montage as I
leaned on the window holding back a smile. I couldn't wait to be back with my family. In the house I
grew up in, among the gentle slopes of forests and coffee plantations, bonfires were held almost every
night with people dancing around and eating savoury local delicacies. The thought of it made my
mouth water with anticipation. I would go and get to see my childhood friends with whom I have
shared many many awkward phases of life with. I just couldn’t wait to be back home. After a busy daily
9-7, running purely on caffeine and work-stress, it was finally time to wind down. With my old books,
family, friends and wonderful food; I would finally get to be home- physically and mentally. My
father’s estate was one of a kind. Various different plants and colourful flowers all year round bloomed
across the area. Our family was known all across town, which meant going back home would result in
never-ending questions about me. But I didn’t mind it, my coming back was bound to be a celebration
with the folks.

Staring out at the hills and mountains greeting me for short, but savoured moments, I felt calmness
wash over me until sleep pulled me in as I imagined how everything would play out as soon as I arrived
home.
4. Describe a journey through, on or over water.
Peering down the window, the change in perspective felt like an escape to another world. Flying
above the raging pacific ocean was exhilarating, though I felt no movement. Down below me
was an endless vast of indigo with swirling white frosts. A sense of magic engulfed me as my
nose flattened against the plane’s glass window staring at the fields of blue, watching the comics
of shapes and swirls created by the magnificent lay of water. Dots of pretty, white sailboats
decorated the sea along with the twisted complexities of bright red rigs here and there. The
back of my neck ached with the twisting and turning of just watching the big, blue expanse of
water below.

It felt as though only I was experiencing this wonder of a moment, in a state of exciting panic
and amaze. I jerked my neck to the other passengers longing to share this overpowering feeling
with someone. To my dismay, it was only I, alone in this cocoon of euphoria. It seemed as
though everyone else was frozen in time. Their faces exhausted, glum and lost in their own
colourless world. Quite disheartened with the sadness around me, I felt like a child who had
just found out he had been lied to. As I turned back towards the window hoping for
consolation from the ocean herself, thick clouds in the form of a red traffic light stopped me,
covering my view. I sat back straight on my seat in a huff. My lips pursed into a line, eyebrows
sunken in my face and my arms crossed in irritance.
My shipwreck of a mood hadn’t gone unnoticed; a lady with kind eyes, a collared white shirt
beneath a bright red vest across the seats locked eyes with me. Wearily, I tried to make out her
name tag as she gestured for me to follow her. I hesitantly got up from my seat and went to her,
my heart pulsating in confusion. I followed the lady until we reached a closed hatch on a large
metal door. She opened it with a loud creak and shut it the second I stepped in. I gulped with
difficulty as I turned around. To my surprise, two men in blue suits with hats and badges
briefly greeted me. The continuous beeping of an array of colourful buttons and controls
overwhelmed me.

Striking my mouth wide open letting out a feeble gasp, I was attacked by the most beautiful
view I’d ever seen. Standing in the plane’s cockpit, I was greeted by a panoramic view of the
waving ocean tucked underneath the bright hues of a setting sun. I gaped with utter disbelief. I
felt alarmingly blessed and a new found gratefulness to be alive with the sight of a foaming blue
ocean flowing beneath me.
5. Write a description with the title, ‘Getting busier and busier’.

White puffs of clouds spotted the late-afternoon sky when sellers began unloading trucks,
putting up stalls, setting down careful trinkets down on the stand and labelling them with
undercharging prices. It was a cool, bright day, perfect for a flea market.

Strolling down the windy paths in between stalls, I perused each one carefully. An ornate
ceramic bowl dotted with blues and oranges sat along with a red clock shaped like an owl. Each
item was unique and had personality. Whether it be a bookmark or a sofa set; a vase or a fork; a
skirt or a birdhouse; every quirky little item had charm and character to it. Down the road,
food trucks and stalls started popping up. The early preparations included sputtering of oil,
clinks of plates, unloading of trucks and tying on hairnets. Everyone here had a busy evening of
serving, packing, and haggling ahead of them.

The sun stood unharming and looked down upon us with its bright orange colour in the
evening. Cars began pulling up to the wide, lonely parking lot as the sky adorned hues of
orange and purple. In a while, the smell of the local street food drifted into the air, my mouth
began to water as it craved the delicious waffles, falafels and rolls being served. I began to make
my way back to my grandmother’s stall to ask for spending money. Taking large determined
steps, I swerved through swarms of families and stalls trying not to crash into any child or any
antique. Space was limited, my eyesight covered, the late evening crowd overtook the ground.
Twisting and turning between windy paths of white satin tablecloths holding together stalls of
historic objects, books and other household trinkets, the flea market was definitely an electric
atmosphere.

After what seemed like hours, my legs began throbbing and aching, begging me to sit down.
But I had managed to target my grandma’s shop. There she was hidden among an endless
queue of people, her short and stout stature almost made her invisible. Looks like sales were
going well today, the market was especially busy this evening.
6. Write a description of a family home.

The cloud white picket fence enclosed her dream. With freshly watered, healthy green grass
spread across the yard. Flowers of red, pink and yellow danced and laughed together welcoming
loved ones into their home. Birds chirped atop the big olive tree singing as the playful breeze
tickled their little feathers. The stone studded walk-way sat crookedly in a curve with a lone
cherry-red mailbox standing there slightly bent to the right.

In front of it was the quirky two-story structure, painted a light yellow with brown and white
borders holding it up, exactly as it would appear in a children’s book. A strong but comfortable
porch swing, lush plants hanging overgrown from old, dusty pots, a blue doormat and a
crooked ‘Welcome to our home’ sign on the door decorated the front porch; the smell of coffee
and freshly baked cookies blew out the overlooking kitchen window.

Behind the door was a space not only spotless, well-kept and charmingly adorned with picture
frames, colourful books, fun wall decor and scribbles of sceneries posted on the fridge but a
space filled with love and warmth, lessons and life, as though a warm blanket were always
wrapped around you. Christmas stockings loosely stitched with initials hung over the fireplace
atop the teak mantle even though it was well past christmas. Shelves housed toys of all shapes
and colours, along with books, board games and coloured pencils. A light blue scarf
half-knitted by grandma was spread on the couch with grandpa’s reading glasses weighing
down loose sheets of that morning’s news, while the parents were huddled with the three kids
warm by the fireplace wrapped around in blankets and protective hugs as they watched the
same disney film about a talking mouse over and over again till they fell asleep.

On the second story was five rooms, each with its own purpose to serve the family. The toy
room painted with cartoons on the wall stood messy with pride. The study room, where the
children did their learning and spent the night. Mum and dad’s room was big and overlooked
the lake; which had a shared wall with the guest room reserved for relatives, friends and
grandparents by the creaky wooden staircase leading back down.
The backyard was where the shaggy dog lived in a cute little kennel, where clotheslines flew and
flapped rapidly fighting the winter breezes with an untamable garden overflowing from the
back. The picture-perfect house atop the hills is not a home without the family it protects
sitting atop a hill in old england.

Describe the scene before and as a theatrical production begins.

5. Describe the scene before and as a theatrical production begins.
6. Describe what you see, hear and feel in a place where you are sheltering.
7. Describe a street which has changed over time.
8. Write a description of a group of people who have become stuck somewhere.
9. Write a description with the title, ‘The view from the other side’.
10. Describe trying to sleep before an important day.
11. Describe a group of people meeting to rehearse or practice.
12. Describe the people waiting for an important visitor to arrive.
13. Describe the contents of a drawer or cupboard.
15. Write a description with the title, ‘A moment of stillness’.
Describe the kitchen of a busy restaurant at lunch time.

Scurrying about the steel plated well-defined interiors of the kitchen, the staff moved quickly;
as though a ticking time bomb was just about to go off. What is usually the time to sit back and
relax with a hearty meal with loved ones, inside the velvet restaurant's doors was an
orchestrated symphony of clanging metal pots and pans; knives effortlessly knocked against the
chopping board as the arms of the sous chef made swift mechanical movements at a constant
pace. The contrast sparked an uncommunicated connection between everyone in the kitchen
as they worked together.

Lips were pursed tight, eyebrows glistened with beads of sweat; each employee entranced into
a state of deep focus, careful precision and timed actions. The automated mechanical whirring
could almost be heard throughout the precise, efficient cooking process; one after the other,
the stages of crafting a delicious meal, cooked to perfection moved fleetingly. The vibrant
vegetables were being chopped with not an inch of difference, they were then poured into a
bright orange broth scented with fresh herbs emanating a divine aroma from healing steam
leaving the lid of the pot. The waiter in white then ladled a plateful onto a dish with one swift
rapid movement and skated across the double hinged doors eidetically going to the right
customer’s table providing service with a smile despite the heat and exhaustion from the
kitchen.

Shouting orders one after the other, the sound sliced through the thick, heavy air. The
burbling sound of frying oil, various sizzling meats- grilled and roasted and the steam whistling
across stoves together were the perfect orchestra for the kitchen to perform their act to. The
whirlwind of controlled chaos was overlooked by the tall, head-chef in white; his slender figure
moved across the lines as his sharp eyes shifted from one cook’s work to the next. Trays of fresh
vegetables neatly stacked were passed around to be chopped. Loaves of freshly baked
sourdough were pulled out of the coal oven and layers of cakes stood tall and proud ready to be
iced, frosted and adorned with colourful beads.

The fast paced hum of the kitchen conjuring up food for the gods took immense skill and
perseverance throughout the long hours of lunch; monotonous, yet meticulous in their
performances of chopping, stirring, plating and serving.
Describe a set of new clothes.

The