Welcome to Tamar Class Blog

โ€œIf you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all: Read a lot and write a lotโ€

Stephen King

Blogging is an amazing way to increase childrenโ€™s  engagement with writing; it allows them to publish their writing to a potentially global audience. It helps young writers to develop their language and communication skills, teaches them digital citizenship, deepens their thinking and allows them to take control of their own writing.

I hope you enjoy reading the writing on this blog and that you feel inspired to comment, follow and share.

Chris Wild

The Gamer Pt 1 by DC don’t read if you don’t like murders

It was a dark and stormy night and there was a boy who was obsessed with gaming and Slender- man.

But one day he summoned Slender- man and got sucked into his game whilst he was in his game ๐ŸŽฎ he became a murder! Once he was out of his game he went to the forest and found Slender-man and said make me your minion. Slender-man had a type of grin and put his symbol on his forhead…

my first animation

comment a name for the boy his creepypasta name gamer

The fallen Kingdom Part 1.

Ighalo Zenuiz was a young black boy who lived in Wareham, Dorset, England. He used to live in London and it was so beutiful to him. Ighalo has never been a massive fan of the countryside. Instead he liked the cities. As a blck kid he had always had people how bullyed him becaus of his skin coulour. Even his uncle didn’t like him becaus he was black. One time his uncle had even waked him round the neck with his long black cane. Ighalo’s parents were both arms dealers but they themselves weren’t happy. They had all the money in the world but they hated selling weapons. They new that there was a possibility that bad people such as terrorrists might get the weapons, but they had no choice. Ighalos uncle was the boss of the family. He didn’t care how mean he was or who he sold his weapons to, he only cared about the money.

Next Friday part 2 will come out! It would be amazing if you commented on this and tell me if you like it our not. if i get 3 or more comments by Wednesday i will continue if not you will have to wait another week.

The Carribean Rescue p1 by Arabella B

Before you start reading this, this is NOT a true story. This is a made up story. ENJOY! ๐Ÿ™‚

Once, in the Carribean, there was a family of four which went to the beach. One of those people in the family was me. The other three were Jennifer my mum, Arnold my dad and Eddie my little seven year old brother. My name is Hazel. And this is the story of our time in the Carribean.

We were going out to sea apart from Arnold which is because he didn’t like being above or in water. Suprisingly, he can bare seeing it though.

“I am not going in. NO way. You can’t make me.” he said.

“OK bye then!” Eddie yelled while running across the sand full of joy about going on a kayak adventure as he has never seen or been on one before.

Eddie tried to help me find my life-jacket but unfortunately we could never find it. Mum already knew that I was an excellent swimmer already so she just let me wear my wetsuit instead. I started running to our kayak called ” The Coastline” scattering sand over people’s faces.

We all hopped in the boat about to set off when I realised that I had left the ores behind.

“Great. JUST great. I’ll go get ’em…” I said moanfully while picking them up off of the golden, glimmering sand facing the sun. I stepped back into the boat accidentally leaving a big clump of sand, but I just hid it underneath a nearby log thinking it would all be fine but there I was standing there thinking it would be okay.

“Hazel! Seriously, did you really nead to sprint across that sand leving a big pile of sand right when were about to set off?” asked Mum smiling.

“Sorry!” I said pushing it off the boat into the sea.

That was the end of part 1 of my story. I hoped you enjoyed and are ready for part2!

My worst house

It would be small and rusty with no windows and no Wi-Fi (me with no Wi-Fi ๐Ÿฑ๐Ÿ˜†๐Ÿ˜‡๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜…๐Ÿ˜„๐Ÿ˜ƒ๐Ÿ˜ฏ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜‘๐Ÿ˜•๐Ÿ˜ฌ๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ฌ๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿ˜ ๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ด๐Ÿ˜ด๐Ÿ˜ด๐Ÿ˜ด)a loud noise constantly like a grinding sound that’s pretty much my worst house


thx A.M

Joseph Emidy by Rosie James

The genius violinist

Joseph Emidy was born in 1775 and died on the 23 April 1835.

He was born in West Africa and he was a child when we was made a slave by the Portuguese and taken to Brazil.

He was taken to Portugal and learnt how to play the violin.

He was stolen by the royal navy and made to play on his violin a ship on HMS Indefatigble.

Because of his colour he wasnโ€™t allowed to eat with the other people and he wasnโ€™t allowed off the ship for several years in case he tried to run away.

On 28th February 1799 the Royal navy left Joseph in Falmouth.

He met a Cornish woman and they fell in love and he settled in Cornwall.

He led the Truro Philarmonic Orchestra.

Joseph Emidy’s grave

He is buried in Kenwyn church in Truro.

Last year a statue was unveiled in Falmouth of him and he has a plaque in Truro Cathedral.

The chef who couldn’t make toast by Penelope S

When you think of a chef you think surely they would be able to make toast right? WRONG!

Ronaldo Ruff- Raldio was a 20 year old chef and was meant to be the greatest chef of all. He could make Baked Alaska, Fruit Soufflรฉ, Garlic Bread (bread not toast), Tropical Pizza, everything really except for toast. Over the years he was teased, bullied and people always said that he couldn’t become a chef because he couldn’t make toast. He even had to live with his family for another five years even though they were barely ever in the house. Usually out having dinner or working that kind of stuff all because he couldn’t make toast.

So one day he’d had enough so he hopped to the kitchen took some bread put it in the toaster and hopefully he set at the right temperature and the right time. He waited and waited and when he’d actually seen how much he waited (10 minutes) he almost fell off the sofa. And then ”TING” it was ready. Ronaldo sprinted to the kitchen to see that the toast was……


This was going to be harder than he thought. So he tried again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again until he had done it. He was holding a perfectious* past perfection perfect toast (even better than mine and mine are good). Then he decided that would bring it to school for the end of the year project in two weeks time. The end of the year project was a project that you could bring anything you wanted as long as you wrote at least 6 paragraphs on it. So he put it in a plastic box and headed to the living room.

At his college everyone had said that he was lying and that he couldn’t make toast. Ronaldo was determined to show them his toast.

Two weeks later, Ronaldo cheerfully skipped to the kitchen, he was gonna prove those guys wrong. He could make toast! When he finally arrived at the kitchen his toast was… it was, oh no… it was mouldy! The project was in only oh no.. oh no! It was only in 4 hours! Ronaldo panicked, it had taken him at least 5 hours to prefect his last toast how is he going to make another one? So he figured that he had to try again. And he tried and he failed, 3 hours left… and he tried and he failed, 2 hours… and he tried and he failed, 1 hour… and he tried and he failed, and he tried and he failed,30 minutes… and he tried and he failed,20 minutes… and he tried and he failed,10 minutes… and he tried and he failed,5 minutes… and he tried and he failed, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 , he’d done it another perfectious past perfection toast was among him. He quickly put in the box, then in his bag and rushed to class. The class was amazed, Ronaldo-Ruff Raldio had actually made toast!

Now Ronaldo-Ruff Raldio is the greatest of all he could make Baked Alska, Fruit Soufflรฉ, Garlic Bread, Tropical Pizza, everything really including toast.

*Perfectious mean very, very, perfect.

Leave part 8 by Penelope S

I decided to get my books out when my bed and my things disappeared into thin air as the shadow started appearing.

“What doesn’t kill you makes stronger” it whispered.

‘What is that supposed to mean’ I thought of course at that point I didn’t know what was going to happen, something horrible.

Now the black mist was right in front of me and started to take the shape of a person. ”You again” I said,

”Oh hello to you too,” it said in a sarcastic but cheerful voice as it zoomed around what used to be a room. ”Stop that, my Mother’s downstairs and-” just as I said that I heard footsteps coming up. ”Hide!” I squealed of coarse as quietly as I could but that clearly wasn’t enough because the shadow hadn’t moved at all. ” Hide, my Mother is coming!” I said but a bit louder this time.

”Oh” it said and it shaped itself to fit in my drawer.” Lily, Lily?” I heard my mum shout. Immediately, I tidied my books, I checked my drawer just in case the shadow was visible (thank goodness it was not), and sprung into my bed…

Rocky, Jungle Survivor part 6 by Calixto GW

In the hotel room, Rocky and Olly were chatting about what happened the day before. “You were so good!” they would say to each other. Then suddenly Olly said “You were very brutal out there, but also fricken chicken awesome.” Olly said.

“Umm, thanks,” Rocky replied ” I guess. ” They laughed. “Right, we should probably get going to the airport now.” Rocky said.

” Yeah, let’s go. “Olly replied.

So they got all of their stuff together and walked outside and waited for a taxi. When they finally got one they hopped in and strapped their seatbelts around them, then they heard the sliding door separating the driver’s seat from the back seats open up, “Hello boys,” it was the poacher ‘s boss. “Where to next? Hahahahaha!!”