My Friend Flicka (ORR 2, pages 141-300)

So, the next day, Rob tries to get a rope of Rocket’s neck that got caught a long time before, and that nobody had ever managed to remove. After almost getting killed, Rob clips the rope off Rocket, but not without the loco mare making a deep gash just below his eye. Then, everyone tries to get the horse into the truck, and in the end it works, but then tragedy happens. Rocket rears up as they drive underneath the ranch sign, and the blow kills her. So that is the end of the crazy devil of a horse, and Rob is quickly running out of money.

But a stroke of luck comes his way, in the form of a man called Williams. He agrees to buy every single loco horse, every single one with the blood of the Albino (the loco father of Rocket), not knowing that they are all untamable. But Ken refuses to let him take Flicka, saying she is not loco. So she stays on the ranch.

The McLaughlin family then tries to catch Flicka. They chase her into a field and put her to the test: there is a six-foot wire fence on the other side. Rocket, Flicka’s mother, would always crash through fences, and so everyone is seeing Flicka will do the same thing. In her despair, she does try to crash through it and gets seriously injured. Now everyone is sure she is loco.

For weeks and weeks Ken, still believing, takes care of her and feeds her, and she grows to love and trust him as he does her. They form an unbreakable bond, so that Flicka waits for him at the gate and follows him around. But one day Flicka’s wound in her leg becomes infected. The infection starts to flow in her blood, and she gets very sick. She becomes thinner and more feverish by the day, and the McLaughlins are in despair, because they have all realized that Flicka is not only not loco, she is a very beautiful, fast, gentle and friendly little mare.

But Rob knows that she will not survive and to put an end to her despair, he orders her shot. Ken finds her the night before her due date, already dead, with her body in the stream and her head on the bank. He weeps, holding her head in his lap, and she raises her head one last time.

All night Ken sits in the stream with her head in his arms. By morning, the cold water has cleaned her wounds, washed away the infection and cooled her fever. Rob will not shoot her. But a night in the freezing stream is not at all healthy for a ten-year-old boy. He misses months of school as September, October and November arrive. But one day, Ken grows well enough to see Flicka. And their reunion is the best thing that ever happened to them…

My Friend Flicka (ORR 1, pages 1-140)

This classic story is about a boy and his horse on a ranch, in the West of America. The story is set approximately in the mid-20s. Ken, the boy, starts out as a daydreamer who has failed his exams at school and must repeat the fifth grade. His father does not know what to do with him because Ken is losing saddle blankets and letting horses run away. This means his father, Rob McLaughlin, cannot give Ken what he wants the most in the world: a colt.

Ken’s older brother, Howard, got a colt three years ago, when he was one year younger than Ken is now. But Howard is responsible. “He deserves a colt.” says Rob.

Nell, Ken’s mother, convinces Rob to give her younger son a colt. She tells him it will make Ken more responsible and awake. So Rob agrees.

In the herd is a mare called Rocket. She is the daughter of a terrible stallion, who was completely loco, and this mare has inherited the bad blood, as have all her siblings and offspring. This line of horses is untamable and its members spend their time crashing through fences and hurting themselves. But their speed is completely incomparable. They can reach thirty-five miles an hour (fifty-six kilometers) and would make stupendous racehorses if they could only be tamed.

Ken has one week to choose his colt. They are all so beautiful and he cannot choose, so his father narrows it down for him. “Horse or filly?” he asks. “I’ll take a horse colt,” replies Ken. But after seeing the two-year-old horses gelded, he decides it would be better to choose a filly. This is when he sees her. Flicka. Fast, beautiful and independent, with a beautiful golden coat, Ken falls in love with her as soon as he sees her.

Unfortunately, she is the daughter of Rocket. Ken’s family is angry and hesitant to let him choose this wild filly and try to convince him otherwise. No-one, no-one has ever tamed one of the loco horses. But Ken is firm. He is sure that he can train the filly.

Meanwhile, Rob McLaughlin is trying to sell Rocket, the untamable loco black mare. He takes the Charley Sargent for a ride in the car to show him Rocket’s speed and everyone is very impressed with the amazing speed, so Charley accepts to buy her. But first, Rob must catch her…

Non-Fiction and Fiction

-What is non-fiction?

-How does non-fiction contrast to fiction?

-How does one interpret information from non-fiction?

Non-fiction is either what really happened, or what could have happened. Fiction is very different to non-fiction because it contains fragments of the imagination, like mythical creatures (dragons, unicorns, ghosts, vampires, aliens…) or is set in a different world to ours. Non-fiction is in general more well-written and truthful, and the category comprises biographies, survival stories or history.

Five Topics:

-Define your ‘hero’, who is yours?

To me, a hero is someone with no power in the world, who is living a life of unfairness, but who is brave. Who strikes back, defends and would die for his race or country to the point that it becomes utterly inspirational. Someone who never gives up, who will do anything for freedom or justice. A wonderful example for this type of man is William Wallace, hero of the Scots. He risked everything for his country and ended up quartered at the hands of Edward I of England, whom he was fighting against. Edward and every king before and after him had wanted to be king of the Scots. William Wallace never gave in, which resulted in his grim fate.

-What are you trying to get better at, this year?

I regret to say that I have always been ridiculously bad at sport, so bad it’s really embarrassing. I am not bad at sports where you’re on your own, like tennis, skiing, waterskiing or ping pong (in fact, my family plays so much ping pong and table football that I have a lot of practice and therefore am not bad). But for team sports like soccer or basketball, I am just too bad. To get better, all I can really do is to play it more, though I hate it because it’s so embarrassing.

-Something you would like to change in your life.

All my life, I have had one really big problem: moving around. This means that I must leave behind friends and what I’m used to. Just when I’m finally used to the new place, I am told that I’m being whisked away. Again. This misfortune is because of the fact that my dad is in the United Nations, meaning that he never stays in one place more than three or four years. I have lived in Palestine during the war, in Africa, in New York and in Belgrade. My dad even lived in Iraq for two years, two years ago, but luckily we weren’t allowed to go with him. The only solution I can think of is going to boarding school in England. This means that, even if I am still here at the end of this year, which is unlikely because of my dad’s job, the next September I will be at boarding school.

-A moment from your childhood

When I was about four, I was living in Dakar, Senegal. My school was in Dakar, but we lived on a tiny island just off the coast, called Goree. It was truly beautiful, with many beaches but no cars or anything. Everyone went around barefooted. Anyway, just outside our house was a bread stand and my parents, every morning, gave me a coin and sent me out in my nightdress to get the bread from the incredibly nice owner, who was great friends with me. In fact, even if there was a long line, he always called me over, smiling, and gave me the baguette he had saved for me, and sometimes even a little piece of bun or something. It may sound truly awful to send your four-year-old daughter out in her nightdress to get bread, but it really wasn’t because I was kind of great friends with everyone on the island, and they wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Anyway, I remember those days and they were the most beautiful of my life.

-Your biggest role model.

My grandmother, definitely. She was the very beautiful granddaughter, then daughter, then sister, then aunt of the Dukes of Buccleuch and she was so clever, so kind, so graceful. Her name was Lady Caroline Montagu Douglas Scott, though when she married it was Lady Caroline Little Gilmour. She always insisted that her name be pronounced as Carolyn, which I think is so independent. As a child, during World War II, she was living in Drumlanrig Castle, property of the Buccleuchs. She had five children, of which my father was the youngest. She was born on the       17^th November 1927 and died on the 17^th October 2004.

Bio Poem

CATRIONA

I am British, friendly, musical, happy

I am the sister of Archie, Xan and Sholto

I live in Belgrade and Scotland

I read The Silver Brumby,

The Scarlet Pimpernel,

The Golden Compass and

The Wolves of Willoughby Chase

I am fond of New York, holidays and Art

I adore my family, Scotland and animals

I wish for my dog to come home,

a healthy planet and food and water
for those who need it.

I admire Winston Churchill,

William Wallace and my grandfather, Ian Gilmour

I need my parents, my dogs and happiness

I aspire to have a good job and a wonderful family

GILMOUR