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1. [a]Describe some of your early childhood memories

On reflection, I realize that I have been so caught up with my schooling and future plans that I have forgotten what a wonderful childhood I had. I was raised in a loving home with an elder brother to look up to. True, we had some financial difficulties back then, but it was possible to be happy without wealth.

The memories of my childhood as a baby and a young child are vivid. My family moved around quite a bit due to the nature of my father's job. However, there is one occasion which I doubt I will ever forget. I was only three years old then, and my family had moved into the house which I am presently living in. Unfortunately, at that time, I was ill. So, I had to take some medicine prescribed by the family doctor. As the medicine was too strong for me, I started to feel giddy and the next thing I knew, I passed out! When I regained consciousness, I found myself covered with my own blood! My mother started screaming when she saw me, and I will never forget the naked fear I saw on her face. It turned out that I had fallen forward and hit my forehead on a sharp corner of a side table. I was rushed to a nearby clinic to be stitched up. Of course, I was extremely frightened and the sight of needles scared me even more! It took the doctor, three nurses and my mother to hold me down. My brother commented I had to be the heroine that day.

Growing up, I did not have many friends who were girls. The children in the neighbourhood were mainly boys. Therefore, my only source of playmates were my brother's friends. At first, they did not appreciate the fact that a little girl was tagging along, but after a little while, they accepted my presence as I could run faster than most of them! Together we raced around the neighbourhood on our bicycles, climbed trees, played with water pistols and caught fish in a deserted mining pool. We even built a tree house once but after a fortnight, it was torn down by the authorities because it was on government land. How were we to know? Needless to say, I became rather boyish and my mother did not like it at all. I was always coming home with bruises and cuts, dirty clothes and looking like an abandoned street urchin. Mother did not mince her words whenever she saw me. Still, I had the most fun in my life during those days.

The only friend I had who was a girl was my neighbour and she was nine years old then, the same age as me. Together, we played with dolls and played house. My most significant memory of our time together was when we would sneak out to the playground after a heavy downpour. We would splash and run about in the puddles of water without our shoes. We loved the tingling sensation of the cool water around our toes. As soon as my mother saw us prancing around in the rain, she would run and insist I put my shoes back on and come home to take a hot bath. I have a sneaking suspicion that she was happy to see me enjoying myself, but as a mother, I guess she had no choice but to carry out her responsibilities.

As I grew older, I changed school yet again and it was then that I made friends with girls. I learnt to be more feminine and stopped getting myself into scrapes. As my family was not too well off, I could not afford to buy dresses for my dolls like the other girls. So, I did the next best thing. I made clothes for my dolls myself. I also made paper dolls. My parents did not pamper me though they loved their children dearly. I soon learnt to make the best of difficult situations. It, in fact, became an outlet for creativity. I came to realize that I had this artistic flair which I would not have stumbled upon, otherwise.

A person's childhood has an important role to play in one's life. It is that which determines a child's personality and perspective of life. I am one of those fortunate people who can look back to my past and smile at the wonderful memories which I would cherish for the rest of my life.2. [b]Write a story ending with the words : But I was only carrying out orders.

A slim lanky girl wearing a pretty pink blouse and a short floral skirt was skipping out of the cinema, holding her boyfriend's hand. You really enjoyed the movie, didn't you? Woon asked his girlfriend. Yes, I did! She smiled at him sweetly. Behind them, other people were pushing themselves out of the crowded pathway. Some were staring at them, some pointing at them and some others were giggling quite loudly.

Lili and Woon knew what they were thinking. Well, Lili is a pretty girl, with a figure that curves at the right places which boys admire and girls envy. Woon, on the other hand, is not exactly a Tom Cruise look-a-like but he does have bulging muscles. Woon is big-built, a 299-pounder. So, they do not exactly go together.

To Lili, however, looks do not matter. Woon is a real gentleman, understanding and kind. They just shrugged their shoulders, looked at each other and went on their way as there was not a bus or a taxi in sight.

The sky was rather dark as it was late. The night was moonless and grey clouds gathered, a sign that a storm was imminent. The walk back was rather eerie as haze and thick mist started to descend. The trees and lamp-posts looked a blur.

Suddenly, two masked men loomed in front of them, catching Woon and Lili by surprise. Hand over your money! one of them snarled. The other grabbed Lili and pointed a knife at her throat. Woon slipped his hand into his pocket and took out a wallet. Throw it down, fatso, or your pretty sweetheart won't be able to talk any more. They laughed. Woon was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. His wallet contained his just-received pay check and it was all the money he had. He threw it down despondently. It landed near his feet.

As one of the men stooped to pick it up, Woon flashed Lili a couple of winks. Then, mustering all his strength and courage, he landed a hard kick on the mugger's chest. At the same time, Lili elbowed hard into her assailant's ribs, causing him to drop the knife he was holding. Woon gave both the men a few punches each and they both crashed to the ground. One of them managed to get to his feet and took off immediately crying in pain. The other was trapped.

Groaning in pain and quaking with terror, he waited for the blows to rain on him. Woon, however, stepped back, gave Lili a hug before he faced his opponent again. He threw all his weight on him and gave him a few shakes and one could hear his bones cracking.

Woon finally stopped and gave the half-dazed, quivering form a slap. Lili came over to the petrified man and gave him another slap. That's for calling my sweetheart 'Fatso'. The man drenched in sweats and fear, thought they were going to hit him again. He closed his eyes, and in a trembling voice, uttered, Itit.. was all hisidea., pointing to the disappearing bulk of his accomplice. Please don't hit me any .. any.. more. I'm sorry.. sorry.. But I was only carrying out orders.3. [c]Preparing for and sitting for this examination

The dreaded day is finally here. Now is the time to see whether all my efforts will finally pay off.

I turn the page of the question paper and read the questions carefully. I give a quick glance at the topics. The first one is not to my liking. To be honest, it is quite difficult, as I don't know a thing about wedded bliss. The second and fourth topics are descriptive genres. I immediately decide not to attempt these two. The third question is more to my taste. I ponder on it for a few minutes but decide against going through with it. I look at the fifth question and I say to myself, Ah! That's more like it!

I write on the topic : Preparing for and sitting for this examination. I take some time to write the composition. It is finally done. I then retreat to Section A. It is a report. Oh, well, there isn't any choice. I said to myself. I write the report and complete it within thirty minutes. I am left with five minutes. I check through both the compositions, correcting a few careless mistakes along the way.

All right, all right. Time's up, says the invigilator. He collects the papers, row by row, assisted by the other invigilators. My papers are in the hands of the invigilator. You all can go out now but come back in half an hour for your next paper.

I stretch myself and move out of the hall. I sit down in a corner and ask myself whether I remembered to write down every detail of my preparation for the examination. Most of my preparation began many years prior to the examination. As a young boy, I used to read hundreds of storybooks. Most of the books I read were in English though some of them were in Malay. I picked up many useful phrases and words from these storybooks. Gradually, I progressed from Enid Blyton's Secret Seven and Famous Five to Agathie Christie's murder mysteries, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, John Grisham's courtroom dramas and J Rowling's Harry Potter.

In addition, my parents also helped by buying me English workbooks and making sure I did my work. My teachers helped too by giving me a great many exercises over the years starting from Year One to Form Five. I started private tuition earlier this year because despite the numerous exercises the teachers threw at us, these exercises somehow did not give me the confidence that I had attained the GCE O level. The tuition classes, although not many, helped me in understanding the format and requirements. I attempted writing the many essay topics, especially the ones which I was not very keen on. I read a few modal essays, written by the nerds in the class. Luckily, they were willing to allow our eyes to gaze on their masterpieces. They did provide some good examples of where we failed to match up to their standards. No, I do not intend to plagiarize any of these A1 works. My compositions shall be original all the way.

Yes, that's about all, I say to myself. No, wait. There is something else I put down that I have forgotten. Last but not least, I prayed and thanked God for his help in preparing for and sitting for this examination. That is definitely all my preparation. By then, it is time for the second paper to start.

As I walk into the hall, I say to myself, There is another detail I forgot. I put a small P/S. [postscript] at the end of the composition to whoever is marking my paper to mark it leniently. I hope the examiner doesn't think I'm being cheeky.

I sit for the second English paper and finish on time. I then head for home.4. [d]Discipline should be strictly enforced in schools. What is your opinion?

Discipline has, is and always will be a way of life in schools. Discipline means the training of character to induce self-control and orderly behaviour. It generally covers rules and regulations formulated by the Ministry of Education to ensure that truancy, gang fights, extortion, bullying, among many other social ills are put to a stop. If these activities are not curbed, they will get in the way of teaching and interrupt the process of real education. When classes are interrupted by unruly students, they squander the time of the students who genuinely want to learn.

Despite the fact that discipline is indeed necessary in schools, some parents complain that discipline in schools is much too strict. They say that schools are overly concerned with such minor problems as to whether or not students wear striped stockings, shoes with logos, belts or even how they comb their hair. They argue that these rules will not make better people out of their children but such ridiculous rules will only serve to make them more rebellious.

However, I do not agree. If discipline in schools is not as strict as it is now, incidents such as gang-fights, extortion, bullying and students playing truant will be rampant. All these serious cases often stem from the minor misbehaviour.

Some parents argue on how such minor incidents lead to gang-fights, extortion and bullying which in turn could lead to more serious crimes. Students who get off scot-free after committing the minor crimes will be more daring and indulge in gangsterism and play truant. This defeats the whole purpose of sending these students to school as they won't be in school! If the serious cases are not nipped in the bud, these students will eventually graduate to petty, and then to organized crime, which will lead to an increase in the rate of crime in this country.

Based on all the above reasons, I maintain that discipline in schools is not too strict. Some people may argue all they want is for discipline to exist in name only. However, if discipline is not as strict as it is now, unruly students would slowly but surely evolve into hardened criminals with no qualms about hurting, robbing, injuring or even killing people. Therefore, it all boils down to the fact that discipline in schools is a necessary tool, like it or not, it is here to stay - discipline in Malaysian schools is not too strict but just right for us.5. [e]Supermarkets

There are markets galore in Malaysia - wet markets, day markets, morning markets, night markets, Sunday markets, weekend markets. You name it - we have it.

The latest to hit the Malaysian scenery is the hypermarket - the giant stores that sell everything in bulk, more for the trader than the householder. That does not mean that the ordinary housewife does not steal a point off the trader by buying some of the wares on sale. Slotted in between the traditional market and the hypermarket is the supermarket.

In every city and even in the small villages, there are supermarkets. It has become the trend for Malaysians to do their shopping at these supermarkets which are part and parcel of some departmental store. One can go to the supermarket, buy whatever one needs, then window-shop in all the tenant shops located in the same complex.

There are some upmarket supermarkets located in certain complexes and at the same time there are ordinary supermarkets found in ordinary complexes. The so-called high-class supermarkets usually stock the branded products imported from overseas markets and the prices are far beyond the means of the ordinary shopper. Without doubt, some of these branded products can be bought at the local markets at a quarter of the price because they are excellent imitation goods, almost as good as the originals.

It is usually those who can afford to pay the prices of the better quality goods at the supermarkets who shop there. For the hard-core poor, they still patronize the local grocery family-run shop where they can be given credit to tide them over the month until the breadwinner earns some more to pay off a little of the debt he has run up. It is not that such people do not visit the supermarkets; they do but only on special occasions when a kind or rich relative treats them to such an outing.

The supermarkets, in contrast to the sundry shop, are impersonal and cold. The shoppers stroll through the aisles, pick out the products they want to buy, put back those which they have second thoughts about, look and compare prices and then proceed to the cashier's counter and pay for their purchases with cash or by credit card. Sometimes, you see a busy housewife just dashing to a section and hurriedly picking up the item she is sorely in need of, rush to the fast' counter and is out of the supermarket in a jiffy.

At times, it is quite difficult to locate a product you want because of the area to be covered. Some signs are quite confusing and whenever you need to ask for information of any staff, they magically disappear but if you do not need their assistance, they are everywhere.

Such a situation hardly happens in the friendly sundry store. The shopkeeper, or his wife, or one of his children, or even the over-helpful neighbour would tell you where to find what you are looking for. The owner-cum-shopkeeper even allows you to bargain or offers to reduce a little just for your sake. On top of that, you can ask for credit, a situation that does not exist in a supermarket. To make things even better, there is no need for you to buy big, you can buy a 50 sen's worth of sugar or a dollar's worth of rice.

It is not surprising senior citizens use the aisles as pathways to exercise their aged limbs or children turn them into playgrounds - as skating rinks, slides and adult conversation malls. A plus factor is that all these supermarkets are air-conditioned - what a boon to all shoppers in hot Malaysia!

Whatever the advantages that supermarkets have over the sundry shops, I believe each has a role to play in our community. The sundry shops have gained a foothold on the economy of the country and the supermarkets are a necessity in a world that is getting smaller by the minute.6. [a]Describe an unusual person you have met.

School was over for the day and I, like any other student, was eager to get home. I ran out of the school gates and headed for the bus-stop to catch a bus. However, as I ran around a bend on the road, I collided into a man-mountain.

I was on my back before I realized what was going on. His face was grim as he reached out his arm to help me up. I muttered an apology, half-expecting a scolding. However, he just advised me to be more careful. I walked away but I did not get far because the fall had knocked the wind out of me and I had hit my head on the road as well as collected a few bruises on my arms. The man saw this and strode over to help me. He insisted that we go to his aunt's house nearby so that he could see to my head and bruises. I was in too weak a condition to refuse.

He was tending to my bruises when I managed to get a good look at him. He stood well over six feet in height. He was broad-chested and wide-shouldered. His arms were very muscular as were his legs. I asked him how he managed to acquire such an enormous and muscular physique as it was unusual for an Asian to have such a build. He explained that he inherited his size from his father, a seven-foot East German and his Thai looks from his mother whereas his muscles were the results of an hour of pumping irons daily for the past six yeas. His muscular physique was more emphasized by him wearing a black tee-shirt and tight-faded jeans.

Even if he took great care of his body, his hair was a different story altogether. His jet-black hair was ruffled and uncombed. He had a clean-cut face which was quite handsome. He had laughing dark brown eyes. His ears were pointed. He wore a pair of owl-like glasses on his eagle-like nose. His mouth was shaped into a ready smile and he had a cleft chin. All these features except for the pointed ears gave him an aristocratic look which I thought rather unusual as most people his size whom I have met which by the way are few and far in between, have rather mean and serious faces.

When I asked him his age, he said he was twenty-nine. I was surprised because his freckled face and laughing eyes were that of a person ten years younger. I will take that as a compliment was his rejoinder.

When I asked him about his vocation, I was even more surprised and stared, open-mouthed at him in disbelief, when he said he was working as a computer scientist because I expected him to be either a professional rugby player or a quarterback for an American football team. Come on, now, stop making fun of my age, will you? He said, reading my thoughts. He saw that I did not believe him and showed me his pass card to convince me

Just then, I realized I still did not know his name. I tried to read the name on his card but could not. Finally, I asked him his name. My name is Joe and yours is James, he said casually. I asked him how he knew my name, expecting some difficult deduction. I just had to laugh when he told me all he had to do was read my name on my name tag. He was both an observant and good-humoured guy.

While we were still talking and joking, the clock struck four. I realized I was already late and my parents would be worried. I excused, explaining I was running short of time. He nodded understandingly. Do come again, he called after me.

However, the next time I went, his aunt told me that he had immigrated to Scotland. He had left me his address and asked me to write when I was free.

He was indeed an unusual person. Most adults I know have no interest in schoolboys or treat me as a child but not he; he treated me as an equal, a rarity in this time and age.7. [b]Write a story: A Ticket.

Rringg! went the door-bell. Coming! I shouted. I opened the door and who else did I see but the friendly neighbourhood postman. Excuse me, I have a parcel for you. Will you sign this, please? he said. I signed it and he handed me the parcel. He then went on to the next house. I shut the door and tore at the brown paper which the parcel was wrapped in. Out tumbled some old documents and a letter.

Oh, no! I groaned when I saw the mess of papers strewn all over the floor. I started to pick up the papers. In five minute I was sure I had all the papers and documents. I then sat down on the couch to go through them. First of all, I opened the letter and read the contents. It did not say much, just that an eccentric uncle had passed away and had left me his documents.

I went through the documents, hoping to find some bonds or money but find them I did not. They were mostly old letters, bills and a few lottery tickets. I was about to check out the tickets but only got as far as reading the numbers when the phone rang. It was Kit. H e wanted to find out whether I was gong to play tennis with him. Sure, meet you at the tennis court at 5 o'clock, I replied. We talked a little longer and then we said our goodbyes. I was looking forward to beating him at tennis that I just took the pile of documents and threw them into the dustbin.

The next day I was reading the papers when I came across the section that read The Winning Numbers for the Welfare Draw. Imagine my surprise when I saw that one of the numbers I read yesterday corresponded with that which was the second prize! I read it again and again and recalled the number. I was dead sure that the series of numbers was the same one I read yesterday. I retraced where I had placed those lottery tickets the day before. Good grief! It can't be possible! I said in horror as I realized what I had done with the pile of documents.

The garbage truck had just passed my house on its daily round and I had emptied my dustbin. All the documents were on their merry way to the garbage dump. I grabbed my car-keys, hopped into my car and drove after the truck. After about ten minutes of frantic driving, I finally managed to catch up with the truck. I motioned to the driver to pull over. At first he refused but I persisted and finally he gave in. I got out of my car and ran over to the truck. The stench of the garbage hit me like a thunderbolt. However, I managed to get close enough to tell the driver that I wanted to search for something. Go ahead. Help yourself. Be my guest. I searched amongst the garbage for a whole hour when at last I gave up. I thanked the driver and his entourage, got into my car and drove home, dejected and stinking.

Immediately on reaching home, I went into the bathroom to bathe and wash off all the grime, dirt and stench. After the bath, I took all my dirty clothes and burned them for they were beyond washing. While I was getting rid of all the germs, the phone rang.

I went over and answered it. Hello, can I speak to Choo, please? Who? Isn't that 6755443? No, this is 6677887. He apologized for the inconvenience and rang off. I grumbled as I put down the phone for I was definitely not in a good mood.

What the ! I said in surprise for right next to the phone were the lottery tickets!

I picked them up and checked them with the results in the paper. Sure enough, there it was. I thanked my lucky stars that I have a head for numbers and a photographic memory. One of the tickets had won the second prize. At that time, I felt exactly as I did when I first saw the results of the draw. I also realized that I had learned a valuable lesson in life - never look a gift horse in the mouth and I have to make it into a habit to complete whatever I set out to do and not do it halfway.

I said a prayer in remembrance of my dearly departed uncle and thanked him for the unexpected gift.8. [c]If I Were Rich.

If I had a lot of money, as rich as Bill Gates, I won't be like him and set up Gates Charity Fund. Instead I would do some bizarre things.

I would buy the entire Amazon jungle and encircle it with an electrical fence. I would wall its perimeter and along the walls would be turrets equipped with laser guns to pick out any unarmoured illegal developer within range. Soldiers armed with long-range rocket launchers and shorter range iridium sniper rifles would patrol the wall twenty-four hours a day, around the clock.

Should greedy developers prove militantly resourceful, sending instead heavily armoured tanks and bowitzers, I would finance the creation of artificial quicksand placed at strategic places. When these heavy vehicles are mired, my private army of specially trained commandos would climb on top of them, drop a bomb into the entry hatch and listen to their screams of terror.

If I were rich, I would fund the research for a more sophisticated security camera. Should the developers prove obstinate and send in a ninja spy to undermine my defences, my security camera would be able to spot unregistered humanoid movements. Once that happens, an accompanying spotlight would reveal the intruder. This spotlight must be able to lock onto the infiltrator's movements and follow him wherever he goes.

With my money, I would buy stealth fighters that periodically patrol the air space of my jungle kingdom. This is to forestall my enemy who may decide to launch an air-to-ground assault. My fighters must be equipped with plasma-fusion incinerators so that the victim's aircraft is completely destroyed before it reaches the ground. A fire squad would be on stand-by duty in case of a fire.

I trust such measures would be sufficient to inspire all developers and potential developers to become law-abiding citizens and get their environmental impact evaluations honestly approved before they send anyone near my jungle. This equipment, the training and the salary of the troops most certainly would only be possible if I were extremely rich.

Next, if I had a lot of money, I would grant generous loans and gifts to poor nations or those just recovering from being overrun by insane invaders and terrorists whose admittance into the human race I seriously question. I would give these loans without interest so that they would not subjugate and humble themselves to those arrogant countries that would suck their blood for every sen lent.

Then, I would finance the studies of those students who are poor and not A1 scorers but possess the potential to be nation builders. Don't you know that there are many students who are geniuses but are unable to prove themselves during examinations? I am one of these specimens with no luck during examinations.

I would most certainly fund scientific research, particularly local environmental scientists. I had hoped to be a researcher of world standard but since I have so much money to manage, the next best thing is to give such scientists a free hand. Hopefully they would be able to come up with some fantastic things before the entire human race dies of diseases, asphyxiation, uncontrolled mutation, simple drowning or any man-made disasters.

Money speaks with the voice of power. If I had a lot of it, I would not hesitate to exploit it against people who have used its power irresponsibly. They have to be made to pay for their transgressions, but unfortunately for me, and fortunately for them, I do not that money power.

I do not have a lot of money, which is probably not so bad after all. I may not be able to resist its siren spell myself. So many have not been able to overcome the seductions of Hiddukel, the money demon. I must have been reading too much science fiction. I wonder, if I were rich, if I really, really had a lot of money, would I do what I said I would?9. [d]What are the advantages of studying abroad? Are there any drawbacks?

Oh, lucky you! You've been offered a scholarship to study in Cambridge.

Oh, it's one of the three scholarships you didn't apply for! You've decided to go to Stanford. No, MIT.

Now, don't cry, please. You can still study in UM or USM, you .. Do be practical, I can't afford to send you overseas to study.

These are scripts that are possible scenarios these days when kids are waiting to enter the halls of fames locally or overseas.

What are the advantages of studying overseas? Many parents if they can well afford to, prefer to send their children to foreign universities Their children would be able to broaden their minds, gain new experiences and have a more liberal and mature view of the expanding world. Then they hope that their somewhat spoilt children would learn some independence and responsibility. They hope their children would evolve into better characters and acquire the acumen to take over the thriving family business and not sink it into bankruptcy.

The reasons above stem from the parents' angle. What about the students' personal aspirations? They would be left to fend for themselves in a totally alien environment. It is an adventure of sorts but it is also testing and training grounds for the young impressionable minds to mature and grow and evolve into responsible adults.

Then of course, overseas institutions of higher learning are reputed to be the best in the world. The name of the university is enough to strike awe and admiration. Upholding the traditions and reputation of exalted Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard, Princeton and MIT is tantamount to gaining respect without having to work for it.

The choices of courses and the multi-faceted disciplines are there for the taking. The limitless and the unlimited encourage aspiring students to make the best of their opportunities. They rub shoulders , exchange ideas, make life-long friendships which would be fodder for future developments and co-operation.

What about the drawbacks? There is always the other side of the coin. Students leave home to study abroad at a very young impressionable age. Sometimes, they are led astray, sometimes they cannot cope with the cultural shock. They are lonely and hapless and yearn for home and its attendant comforts. Some are just unable to cope with the big changes in their life. They try to make a go of it, some succeed but some fail.

The next is the question of finance. It costs almost a million ringgit to educate a medical student in Ireland. If he is a sponsored student, fine but if he is a recipient of his father's scholarship, he has to learn to be thrifty and keep his fingers crossed that the money is banked into his account. Money is needed not only for the university fees but a student has to pay for food, lodgings, transport and a host of other expenses.

Then some students go for courses whose relevance to the Malaysian economy is completely unrelated. They return home after graduation only to find that the degree they have spent years of study on cannot be utilized in Malaysia. Some don't even want to return home, preferring to spend their life in the country they have adopted. They don't even remember their parents' sacrifice nor are they interested in working here.

The advantages and drawbacks are numerous. It really depends on the individual whether they wish to continue their tertiary education overseas or locally. There have been cases where the undergraduate prefers to obtain his first degree locally because he believes with a mature mind and some work experience, he would be better equipped to face foreign challenges. His maturity enables him to succeed when he studies for his masters or doctorate or specialist courses in his thirties.

The pros and cons are there to be mulled over and thereon acted upon. In any decision, there is no one clear-cut answer. Only you would be absolutely certain what is best for you - you know yourself best.10. [e]Time

The clock on the mantelpiece goes tick-tock. The hands of the clock moves slowly but silently on the face of the clock, pausing at the numbers to beat out a rhythm and a beat.

Oh, if only there are more than twenty-four hours in a day! Time drags its heavy feet when there is nothing to be done but it is gone in a twinkling of the eye when there are lots and lots of goody stuff to do.

Time-contraction? If only it was possible here on earth.

My whole life is a race against the clock, especially where school is concerned. It's beating the alarm clock to catch the morning bus, to be on time before the school bell rings and the prefects come charging at you. It's a marathon to complete the Mathematics problem before the absent-minded professor decides he has given us more than enough time but in fact it was only a minute. When it is break-time, you would think the canteen operator is a charitable soul as the hordes of hungry faces and hanging tongues charge to buy' their food for their rumbling stomachs - you would think the food is for free and you do not have to pay a sen. Do not expect to be served if you are a second late because the crowd is just too big for you to shove yourself to the counter and before you could say Holy Creepers! the bell has rung. It's back to the class for another round of studying. We have no time to sit and stare and stare as long as we dare.

Back home, after school dismissal, there are so many chores and responsibilities that I sometimes wish there is no tomorrow. Not only do I have to mind the tiny tots, I even have to tutor the younger siblings. Luckily I do not have to cook. I wonder if the task of feeding all of us is left to my culinary skills, time would have stopped for all of us for we would have died from starvation!

There is no let-up during the weekends and the holidays. Time is still in short supply as I try to cram in the tuition classes, the guitar lessons and of course, the pleasure trips to the malls and the arcades.

As I struggle to fit in all my activities within that time warp, I look at my parents as they juggle their time between family and work. Mum with her wifely duties and her claims to being the most harassed mother in the world are illustrated by the rush from packing us off to school, seeing that we get to bed on time and keeping her appointments with Dad. Dad, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be faring better - he and I don't even have time to say hi, what more to develop that father-and-son bonding. He is constantly speaking on his handphone to his clients and lost in his own thoughts to secure that multi-billion [not multi-million] contract.

If my family were so short of time, what is the status quo of the other families on this globe? It's a wonder that there is such a thing as a family unit in this time and age or could it be they are better time managers than we are? Time management gurus are raking in the millions - how did their clients find the time to attend these early-morning-till-all-night seminars when it is time they're craving for?

Time-contraction, time expansion! I don't care what you do or how you do it - turn back the clock or bring time forward. Just give me more time, please!11. [a]Describe a day in the life of a nurse

A day in the life of a nurse is no picnic!

I am on my feet from the moment I arrive at the ward, after having clocked in and discussed a few pointers with my colleague on the night shift before she clocks out to go home for a well-deserved rest.

The first thing I have to do so is to go round making sure that my patients entrusted into my care are still alive. This may sound preposterous to you, but most of my patients are elderly folk suffering from heart ailments or kidney malfunctions or various forms of cancer, diabetes and general old-age illnesses. It is not uncommon, in fact quite the norm, for one or two of the weaker ones to pass away during the night, quite peacefully. Only the day before, Madam Auyin did do without anyone noticing, not even her nosey neighbour, until I found her dead at about 8.15 in the morning. Once I have made certain that they are fine, I distribute the breakfast trays, take temperatures and blood pressure, help the weak to clean themselves and supervise the bed making. Then, I do the reports, ready for the doctors' visits. Believe it or not, by this time it is already near lunch-hour. Time does fly.

After a quick canteen lunch, it is time for another check. The pills and medicines have to be administered. This is not as easy as you would imagine : the elderly are very suspicious and often quite, quite clumsy or is it all pretence? One old lady, a very alert Madam Too makes a great fuss whenever she is due for her tablets.

Are you sure the doctor prescribed those tablets for me? I had yellow ones the day before, now they are orange. Can you guarantee they won't bring on my gastric pains?

Of course, Madam Too. They'll make you better. They're the ones the doctor prescribed and they're yellow, my dear.

What's inside them? I won't take them. They aren't the same shape.

I devote a few minutes, pacifying her until in the end, as usual, she swallows them and soon she is fast asleep. She is not the exception. These old patients have the astuteness of master geniuses - who says they are senile!

Then there's Mr Sundram, he always thinks we are trying to poison him. I practically have to force the pills down his throat and bribe him with a sweet smile.

Old Mr Ismail keeps dropping his medicine on the floor, either accidentally or on purpose. He handles everything fine when it's eating his favourite fruit but not when it comes to his medicine. Suddenly, he has butter fingers and you know he is going to let go of his pills when you see the cheeky glint in his dreamy eyes and the mischievous grin on his face.

Sometimes they make your day but when you are rushed for time, especially when there is a new admission, they can drive you up the wall. You need the patience of Job [I think more that of a kindergarten teacher ] and the alertness of a lion-tamer to survive the antics of these healthy inmates.

The busiest and most exasperating period is when relatives and visitors come trooping in. Visitor Hour is no piece of cake. It seems as though the whole kampong has congregated in the ward. Children are the worst : they can be angels when they want to but they can turn the world topsy-turvy for those hours, twice a day. You can't ban them, not when the indulgent grandmothers practically drown them with kisses and hugs. Children think nothing of climbing up all over the beds, opening up all the cupboards, dirtying the floor and practically making a mess everywhere, not to mention the carnival din. Sometimes, they even would be poking here and there and putting their noses where they shouldn't.

Without doubt, the patients love it - they wait eagerly for visitor hour and if you are one second late in opening the doors, woe betide you. You will get more than a earful from them.

Other visitors bring food -forbidden food - cream buns, chocolate biscuits, bananas, nuts - all in gigantic goody bags - they think they are going to the zoo or for a picnic. It is my job to control this illegal traffic, otherwise the patients would die sooner than expected. The whole ward looks like a giant playground and we, the nurses have to return it to its original look - spick and span.

When the last of the guests have left, my day is almost over. On most days, there are the reluctant ones who won't budge and who try to beg a few more minutes of ward time or even try to trick you into letting them stay overnight. They know all the tricks in the book . You just have to be firm and say no and mean no.

Who says a nurse's day is uneventful! Neither is it a bed of roses. But it is rewarding and uplifting to see the smiles of thanks and the gestures of appreciation.12. [b]Write a story based on : Chocolates - Never Again!

I was suddenly aware of my surroundings. Where am I? I ask myself groggily. I find myself aboard a train that is not bound for anywhere in particular. I look out of a window and am shocked at what I saw.

I find myself traveling on a train through Malacca. Since when is there a train that passes though Malacca City? I ask myself, puzzled. Malacca itself has also changed. The sky is no longer blue but a swirling brown. All the tourist attractions like the Christ Church and the Stadthuys have been reduced to brown ruins. The streets too were deserted. In short, it is like a scene after a nuclear holocaust.

If a nuclear holocaust is responsible , how come I am not affected? I ponder. Suddenly I am aware of a creature approaching me. As it draws nearer, I see that it is a man. He is of average build and has jet black hair with streaks of chocolate fudge all over him. He is ordinary-looking except for those chocolate smudges.

He greets me and asks whether he could sit in the seat opposite me.

Sure, I say, glad to have someone to talk to. I am anxious to know what is going on and, so, I ask him.

He regards me with his piercing, liquid chocolate swirling eyes and asks, Where have you been all this while?

I tell him I do not know and that is why I asked him.

You must be one of those people to be blamed for this catastrophe! he exclaims.

Responsible for what? I in turn ask him, surprised.

This nuclear holocaust! he shouts angrily.

Just as I thought.

I am suddenly aware that his features are changing. His fingernails are growing at an alarming rate with the tips dripping with chocolate. His shirt starts to rip apart, exposing a dark brown body and his skin is burning up. Soon, I could see his internals. His hair has grown into a shaggy mane whereas his eyes are now a blazing red.

At first, I am too terrified to move. However, I collect my wits and make a wild dash for the door. I open the door into the next carriage. There, I see a lever marked Emergency brake. I pull it with all my might but it melts into chocolate so instead of stopping, it increases in momentum. By now, the creature is already in the carriage. I look about for a weapon to ward it off and spy a baseball bat. When the creature comes within reach, I swing the bat at it with all my might but the bat disintegrates into chocolate cream when it connects. The creature wraps its burning claws around my throat as I utter a long piercing scream of utter terror.

I awake with a start, drenched in perspiration. I touch my throat but find no traces of any burns although I feel the uncomfortable soreness and dryness. I realize then I am having an awfully bad throat, sore and parched.

Boy! That is the last time I am going to eat that many chocolates ever again. Fancy having such a nightmare about chocolates when I can gorge on chocolates any time of the day - morning, noon or night. Chocolates! Urrgh! No, never again! No chocolates for me for the rest of the year. I vow to myself. I swallow some pills, drink a mug full of water, then it is back to sweet dreamland.

On waking up the next morning, I head for the refrigerator, open it, rummage for something. Not finding it, I call out to Mum, Mum, where's that mint chocolate bar Aunt May brought back from Australia? Empty promises.13. [c]Unwelcome Visitors

Have you ever crept silently away from the door, quietly switched off the fan and kept as silent as a mouse when you happen to see the neighbourhood gossip walking straight towards your house? Such an action is warranted especially when you do not want to have to welcome an unwelcome visitor into your home.

We do not like the rats, cockroaches, lizards to invade our homes - these are the unwelcome four-legged creatures. Neither do we like those funny green figures featured on outer space sagas -the lizard people. They are supposedly from outer space but we do have unwelcome visitors much nearer home.

We do not choose our relatives, we do choose our friends. Some relatives are real pains. They do not know how to take no for an answer. My uncle Jack is one relative I would steer away from. He comes a-calling but once in a blue moon. He comes a-borrowing and his skin is as thick as the cow's hide. Mum has a soft spot for him and even though she knows Dad would not like it, she would loan him the money he asks for, knowing full well she would not ever see a sen of it again. When dad gets wind of it, he would hit the roof and all of us, including Mum, make ourselves invisible until dad cools down or is in a more forgiving frame of mind.

Neighbours are to be treasured for they can be most helpful in times of emergencies or need. But we do have one neighbour whom we would prefer to be living at the other end of the housing estate so the distance would deter her to come to just say hello as it would be too far for her to walk. Then we would only see her on specially invited occasions. Alas, she lives just next-door. On still silent nights, we can hear her voice killing the karaoke lyrics in her own living room. She always seems to pop in when Mum and I are glued to the TV at the climax or we are having a durian feast or I am deep in the midst of doing my homework. What has she come for? She comes to borrow things : soy sauce, the ironing-board, a cup of salt, some flour, an egg - you name it, she has borrowed it! To make matters worse, she stays for half-an-hour, gossiping and nosing around until mother has to cook up a story that she has to rush off somewhere. Mrs Sunny doesn't even bother : she would offer to tag along. Hints, insults, excuses - nothing works. Except for this trait, she is a sweet lady, harmless and forgiving.

We live in a middle-class neighbourhood and according to research, we are the ones who are worthy targets of salespeople. By worthy I actually mean easy to persuade to part with our money. Young well-dressed men and women knock on the doors, ring the bell, rattle the gate, do anything and everything to get our attention and once we give in, there is no turning back. They have the best sales pitch in the world. Why not? They sell you biscuits, cosmetics, crockery, coffee, electrical appliances, insurance and a hundred and one items. They claim their goods are sold at the best [that is the lowest] prices or failing that, they appeal to your mercy, Please buy one, or my boss will fire me! What are you to do when you were once in the same boat? Buy one you do and go without that CD you have been saving for. The junk in the storeroom is piling up and one day when I am to open a store, I know what to sell.

An unwanted visitor we dread to see is the man in the dark blue uniform - the policeman. Father is absent-minded and from pressure of work, he forgot to pay a speeding ticket. The young rookie was polite and told Dad to pay it within the next twenty-four hours. It proved an embarrassment to my parents who consider themselves upright citizens and to have Mrs Sunny asking many times why and positioning herself in an advantaged position to eavesdrop was something for them to take standing up.

I hope that I myself will not ever become an unwelcome visitor. Should I be, please tell me. But if you want my company, do SMS me or call me or send me that beautifully engraved invitation card.14. [d]Advertising exerts the greatest influence on our daily lives.

How do you react to this statement?

Advertising is a means to promote or introduce a new product to the consumer or even to reintroduce a repackaged product and increase publicity and sales. Advertising is an important ritual of any industry, be it a service or a commodity. Without advertising, consumers who determine the success of a product would not be in the know.

Consumers make or break a trading company. They are the masters who ensure that the product stays or disappears from the shelves in the stores.

I believe that advertising plays a significant role and its importance cannot be sidelined. Where can we find advertisements?

The ugly gigantic hoardings placed at strategic locations throughout the country are eye catchers and are attention grabbers of drivers and passengers of private and public vehicles. They break the monotony of the landscape and the advertisers hope that some information would seep into the grey cells of the viewers.

Then we have the television advertisements which are cleverly slotted in between programmes, at strategic scenes to catch our attention or to give us a break from sitting on the couch all day long. These advertorials are a feast for the eyes and music to the ears. Radio advertisements are instead more catchy on the hearing. Newspaper advertorials are glamorous offerings and when there is the carrot of a free gift, they make for great reading.

Not to be left out of the mainstream are the sales on the Internet. E-commerce has taken the world by storm. Use your Internet and you would be assailed by pops selling you everything under the sun. Even using the Internet to search for information does not allow you the freedom to ignore these E-advertisements.

Advertising exerts a great influence on consumers. Some consumers are easy believers - these are their targets. They are the ones who would buy and try anything and everything. Some consumers are easily lured by the attractive gifts and promotional offers while others are brand-conscious addicts. Once they believe in the product and the brand, they would die supporting that product. These are the loyal consumers.

On the other hand, there are some consumers whose buying power determines the product they buy. The more highly priced the product is, the better it is, regardless of the fact it might be produced in the backwoods of some developed country under suspicious conditions.

Some consumers buy the product or use the service because their friends or their friends' friends recommend it. This word-of-mouth recommendation has often seen small firms getting launched and making it big. We must not underestimate the power of the word-of-mouth.

In addition, consumers are tricked into buying or utilizing a product or service but once they know they have been taken for a ride, do not expect them to remain a consumer. They might even spread wild tales or even the truth to anyone willing to listen.

A consumer has to use his brains when listening, seeing or reading any advertisement. He needs to ascertain the truth of all the claims made by the jingle, advertisement or advertorial. The best way is for the consumer to use that product and prove it to himself. It is entertaining to sing along with the jingle, repeat the slogans, praise the illustrations, and be attracted by all the sweet promises and free gifts. Like it or not, sometimes the free gifts are not free - it is included in the price of the product itself or there is an underlying condition or conditions to bind you to more purchases.

We realize that advertising is an integral part of the consumer's life. To ensure that we are aware of our consumer rights, we have to read in between the lines and get to the heart of the advertisement and review it with a passion worthy of the product itself.

Advertisements are now not just about product or service, advertisements are entering a new phase in promoting harmony, truth and accountability.15. [e]Peanuts.

What does the word peanuts conjure in your thoughts?

The word Peanuts with P in the upper case makes me think of Charles Schultz and his Charlie Brown. It makes me smile to think of Charlie Brown and his dog Snoopy and his whole gang. Then I remember Linus and his security blanket. If only I was as brave as Linus to drag around my Dutch wife like he did his dirty smelly blanket , even to camp. It confirms I am a normal child growing up in an environment so different from that of Charlie Brown and yet experiencing the same conflicts, the same fears and the same emotions. I have to thank Charlie Brown, no, his creator Charles Schultz for giving us Peanuts and the whole cast, to allow us to laugh at our childhood days as we grow with the years. As I am now nearing adulthood, I still enjoy Peanuts and still laugh heartily at all the gems of wisdom that emerge from the mouth of babes.

The magician is now going to conjure peanuts of the crunchy variety, the ones that keep you company during midnight snacks, that remind you of Ipoh and that you pop into your mouth as you jog uphill. Peanuts are sometimes called groundnuts found growing underground - the nuts of various sizes, some with brown skin, some with white skin, some skinless, some salted, some fried, some honeyed, some roasted , some smothered in batter and some as garnishing on a plate of nasi lemak with fried anchovies. We have so many varieties of peanuts that I must confess I don't know all of them - I just love to munch on them, after cracking open the shells. The Chinese on Chinese New Year feel the festivities are not complete without packets of groundnuts or peanuts served to guests and as gifts to bring home after the many visits to friends and relatives.

Peanuts can be pounded and used as fillings for cakes and biscuits and they are no longer mere peanuts but edibles. It is a source of income to the itinerant cake or biscuit seller who earns her day's meal from these peanut biscuits.

What do we have next? The first time wage earner groans and moans that he is bringing home peanuts on receiving his first pay packet. He has to pay for his lodgings, the bill he has run up at the canteen, the instalment for his motorbike [or a still serviceable second-hand car] , his gift to his parents [or grandparents] and a treat for his siblings. After all these payouts, he practically has nothing left, so it is peanuts' to him.

Of course, to the rich tycoons and the taukes, tipping a waitress or a bell-boy a hundred ringgit is chickenfeed - in other words, peanuts.

So it is not the amount that is the question here - it is the circumstances. To the wealthy, it is peanuts, to the poor, it is their whole life.

Whatever peanuts mean to you or to me or to the others, let us not forget that from a small pea grows a peanut shell that is not alone but has friends that have inspired Charles Schultz to breathe life into Peanuts and given moments of friendship and joy when friends munch peanuts together.