I'm rather a tomboy but I'm not violent. I hate fighting and arguments. I hate being laughed at and some teasing hurts me more than I show. I tend to sulk when I am annoyed and I tend to be a bit oversensitive. Friendship is important to me with people of all ages. My home is very important to me and I would hate to be sent to a boarding school. On the whole I'm a fairly tidy persorl.

    I am quite creative with my hands. I like making models , pendants and candles as well as other things. I like acting and music, I play the French horn and can play the trumpet. I am not a very keen reader because I like to be outside most of the time. I ride my bike a lot and have been youth hosteling with it. My father lives abroad and I enjoy travelling to see him. I enjoy my food (especially my French grandmother as she is an excellent cook! ) and I have a sweet tooth but I hate the dentist. I don't like my hair being brushed by someone else and I hate it long.
    Finally, the one thing I really find boring is homework as I would far rather be outside or make something.

                                      
                                              Text B
                   
                                           My thoughts

    I sometimes wonder what my mind is like inside, often I fancy that it is like this. I feel as if my mind goes round and round like the earth and if my lessons make me think hard it begins to spin. In my other class it was getting all stodgy and still and lumpy and rusty. I feel as if there is a ball in my mind and it is divided into pieces -each piece stands for a different mood. 

The ball turns every now and then and that's what makes me change moods. I have my learning mood, my goodlooks mood, my happy mood, my loose-end mood and my grumpy mood, my miserable mood, my thoughtful mood and my planning mood. At the moment I am writing this I am in my thoughtful mood.When I am in my thoughtful mood I think out my maths and plan stories and poems. When my kitten is in her thoughtful mood she thinks shall I pounce or not, and shall I go to sleep or not. This sort of thing goes on in my own mind, too. It is very hard for me to put my thoughts into words.

                                Additional Information

                                               (1)

    He's the sort of chap who loves to make entrances and exits. He'll arrive ten minutes before everybody else and he'll leave ten minutes before everybody else. He'll come dashing in with a bunch of flowers, screaming hellos. He likes to be noticed. He loves telling jokes. He's a well-informed chap and keeps up to date with all the current affairs. He likes to talk and give his view on life .

 He's very successful. When he sets himself a goal, he works hard to attain that and to achieve it. He knows what he wants and he'll set out to get it. As a result, he's successful. When you're talking to Roger, sometimes you're left way, way behind. His mind is whizzing over so fast that you're talking about something, and he's off at a tangent,talking about something completely different. He can't sit down. He's not. He can't relax. He's always jumping up and doing things and finds it hard to concentrate at times.

                                                (2)

    She gazes at.herself in wonder. Vanished are her healthy pink cheeks, her slightly red winter nose, her mole, her little freckles and blemishes; she is smooth, new made. She dabs a little powder on top, and stands back to admire the effect. It is pleasing, she decides. She wonders what it will look like by midnight. Will she be transformed imo an uneven, red-faced, patchy, blotchy clown? An ugly sister?

                                                (3)

    When she was twenty-three years old, she met, at a Christmas party, a young man from the Erewash Valley. Morel was then twenty-seven years old. He was well set-up, erect, and very smart. He had wavy black hair that shone again, and a vigorous black beard that had never been shaved. His cheeks were ruddy, and his red, moist mouth was noticeable because he laughed so often and so heartily. 

He had that rare thing, a rich, ringing laugh. Gertrude Coppard had watched him, fascinated. He was so full of colour and animation, his voice ran so easily into comic grotesque, he was so ready and so pleasant with everybody. Her own father had a rich fund of humour,but it was satiric. This man's was different: soft, non-intellectual, warm, a kind of gambolling.

    She herself was opposite. She had a curious, receptive mind which' found much pleasure and amusement in listening to other folk. She was clever in leading folk to talk. She loved ideas, and was considered very intellectual. What she liked most of all was an argument on religion or philosophy or politics with some educated man. This she did not often enjoy. So she always had people tell her about themselves, finding her pleasure so.

    In her person she was rather small and delicate, with a large brow, and dropping bunches of brown silk curls. Her blue eyes were very straight, honest,and searching. She had the beautiful hands of the Coppards. Her dress was always subdued. She wore dark blue silk, with a peculiar silver chain of silver scallops. This, and a heavy brooch of twisted gold, was her only ornament. She was still perfectly intact, deeply religious, and full of beautiful candour.