Describe your school sports day pot

Describe your school sports day.

This year our school sports day was held on Friday. There
were seven booths at the sports ground. Our class
planned in advance how to decorate our booth. We
wanted to win the first prize for the best decorated booth
so I helped my classmates to decorate our booth in a
spectacular manner.

Around 1:30 pm, the sports days was declared open by
the Guest-of-Honour – our local Member of Parliament. All
the students taking part in the sportsday lined up for the
march past. We marched past the stand where the Guest-
of-Honour and our headmaster stood to attention. As we
marched past, he took the salute.

The day started with track events. There were 50, 100 and
200 meters races. There was tremendous applause from
the spectators which included teachers and parents. Then
the field events – tug of war, long jump, high jump, shot
put and discus were held. Every event drew cheers and
applause from the spectators. The sports day turned out to
be the grandest day of the year for the school.

The day went by very fast. I came in first in the long jump
event, and second in the 100 metres race and shot put. At
about five o’clock, our Guest-of-Honour gave away the
trophies to the winners. My class was overall runners-up.
We were also awarded with the first prize for the best
decorated booth.

After that, to mark the end of the sports meet, there was
another march past. The national anthem was played to
close the sports day.

We went home tired but happy.

Talk about an interesting cat.
Talk about a favorite interesting cat.

Melissa is a glossy, midnight-black cat, arrogant as a
tyrant of old, fierce as the most ruthless savage, or
affectionate as the most loving child. Whenever arrogance
is her role, she gives her whole heart to it. Roused from
soft sleep and feeling a vague need for a lap of milk or a
mouthful of liver, she will move toward her dishes
unhurriedly and gracefully like a duchess. No calls to play,
no rolling balls, no tantalizingly twitched strings will divert
her determined progress toward the kitchen. From the
gentle stroke along her back or a soft scratching under
ears and chin, she will ooze away as elusively as
quicksilver. With tail at a proud angle and with haughty
dignity, she will quietly and persistently pursue her way.

Even when just fed, with drops of milk or flecks of beef
upon her narrow, triangular chin, she grows alert to the
impertinent chatter of sparrows reminding her that hunting
is one of her dearest sports and a test of her greatest
skills. Then the countless ages that separate her from the
forests and jungles of the Far East dissolve. Standing on
the doorstone of a twentieth-century house in the middle

of a great city, she became again the savage hunter. The
dusty, feathery smell of the sparrows fighting for crumbs
comes to her sensitive nose. A few blades of grass and a
discouraged city bush may be Melissa’s only cover.
Nevertheless, she snaps her tail purposefully, steps off the
doorstone, and by a series of running, fluid steps reaches
the bush. In these steps her body elongates and her legs
contract tensely holding her close to the ground. In the
shelter of the bush she watches fixedly her still unwary
prey. Now by flattening her ears, she gains great
confidence, for all cats know that thus protected they
become invisible. Crouched and delicately poised for her
deadly pounce, she moves not a whisker. A tiny breeze
ruffles the soft fur of her sides. They very tip of her long
graceful tail twitches with very passing decision to leap, to
wait, to watch. Thus she savors in anticipation the
delightful instant when her steel claws will slide through
crisp feathers, clutch tender flesh, and hold her excitingly
lively prey until she can snatch it in her strong, razor-sharp
teeth. Birds are too messy for her to eat except for a
mouthful or two to prove that she knows a toothsome
morsel when she finds it. But to catch well, there is
something Melissa can not explain; every so often she just
has to prove that she is a good hunter.

Back inside her home, no more than minutes later in time
but several aeons later in civilization, Melissa looks for
appreciation and affection. She is a great and skillful
hunter home safely and successfully from the chase. The
descendant of ancient gods in Egypt, still goddess in her

own home, she unbends now to seek not only applause,
but also a chance to express her affection. She hunts a
warm, secure lap that she can happily knead, a pair of
hands that are firm, soothing, and trained to tickle the right
spots, scratch others, and softly smooth the rest. Melissa
raises sleepy eyes and a gently prodding head to rub the
length of her cheek and neck against the wrist behind her
head. The proud cat in search of food and the cruelly
persistent sportsman have been momentarily forgotten in
the sleepy, gently purring companion.