Describe an incident when a moment of forgetfulness got you into trouble.

The morning sun shone persistently on my still-shut eyelids. Annoyed, I rolled on to the right side of my mattress. Wondering about the time, I stretched out my arm to grasp the little, round alarm clock on my bedside table. I forced open my eyes, focused them on the numbers ... and screeched! Leaping out of my bed, I swung open the wardrobe door. Throwing my school uniform on the bed, I dashed to the bathroom. Halfway, I spun around and grabbed my school bag, deciding not to brush my teeth. Soon, I had shoved my feet into my shoes and pounced onto my bicycle. My parents stood motionless, staring at me as I whizzed past. As my bicycle raced on, I noticed a group of schoolgirls looking my way with great interest. Well, well! Obviously, I was still attractive even with uncombed hair. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest as I whirred past a few cars on the road. The drivers seemed to stare with disbelief that one could pedal so swiftly. In no time, I reached the school gate, which was just about to be closed. Without bothering to explain myself to the priggish duo on guard duty, I hopped off my bike and dashed off. After locking my precious iron steed at the shed, I sprinted to the school hall. As I burst into the hall, I braked to change direction and made a beeline for the back of my class. Screeching to a halt, I took my place behind my classmates. In the whole gathering of students, I seemed to be the centre of attraction. It did not matter much to me at the moment for I was used to being looked at. However, to say the least, I was a little surprised when everyone stopped staring blankly at me and started to giggle. Suddenly, the whole hall was filled with roars and bellows of laughter. Smiling at my audience, I decided to take a bow. Then, I noticed that the bottom half of my trousers were the wrong color. My line of vision moved upwards, revealing that the rest of my pants were also the wrong color, and so was my shirt. At first, even my powerful brain could not figure it out. "Daniel! Why on earth are you in pajamas?" my friend blurted out amidst the hollers of laughter. The feeling of sheer horror swept through my entire frame. My mouth was stuck open in an "0" shape for a few long seconds. My mind was filled only with shock as darkness mercifully started to engulf me. Once again. I awoke with lights playing on my eyelids. At first I had little memory of what had happened, but one of look at the group people peering down at me brought the whole incident back to mind. The young boys were all clad in white uniforms and grinning quite lunatically at me. In. the high corner of the room, I saw a red crescent. Then the horrible little squirts started to call out for their seniors. Outside, I heard fresh gales of laughter. The brats were chortling. I was still clad in pajamas. Not knowing what else to do, I feigned unconsciousness again . in no time make a beeline for gales of laughter in a relatively short time to straight to a forceful outburst

"Friends should never hide anything from each other." Do you agree ? No man is an island. Everyone depends on his friends to a certain extent. Ever since man formed a system of verbal communication, all people have been in constant chatter with one another. Relationships are important to man, so much that people may shape their entire lifestyles simply to find favor with their clique or circle of friends. Therefore, much caution must be applied when dealing with our friends, especially in our speech. So then, must we always tell our friends the whole truth and nothing but the truth or is it sometimes simply none of their business? One thing is clear: finding out that your friend has lied to you always hurts. In cases where lies have been told to hurt you or other parties on purpose, the friendship will never be the same. If the lie caused you great damage, the friendship will not be salvageable. Who would want a treacherous person for a friend? Yet, even when the matter is not of great importance, little lies can lead to the spoiling of relationships. I have a friend who often tells little untruths. Sometimes, he exaggerates circumstances a little, just to impress others, sometimes he tells half-truths to get out of trouble, sometimes, he makes up stories just to entertain his friends. Personally, I just do not feel comfortable with him. You see, I just never know whether he is telling the truth or one more of his little lies. Apart from the question of maintaining credibility, sharing one's problems and joys with a friend can also be helpful as we deal with the problems of daily living. As the saying goes, shared joy is double the joy and shared sorrow is half the sorrow. Sharing the good times can brighten up a friend's day if he feels down. Sharing one's problems and despairs with a friend will bring forth the encouragement and advice we need to hear. Sometimes simply having an ear to hear our heart's cries and knowing that someone understands us will make us feel better. People have been saved from suicide just by having a friend to listen to their troubles. It is clear, then, that some things need to be said to our friends without any twisting of the truth. However, there are times when telling a friend too much can also lead to problems. An all-too-common example of such a time is when one hears rumors. Gossip can start simply because someone thought a rumor was true and shared all her thoughts on the rumor with a friend. The friend, who actually had no real knowledge of the matter, passed all her thoughts and ideas to another friend and so on and so forth. The final result can be a mangled product which could really hurt the parties involved. The thing to do about rumors is not to spread them, even if you have strong opinions, about them. Another noteworthy fact is that sometimes, telling the truth may be worse than saying nothing. If an ugly girl with an inferiority complex were to ask you if she was unattractive, it would be a very bad idea to tell her just how unattractive she was. One must use his discretion in such situations, stressing on her good qualities, of course. Telling the whole truth in this case would destroy her remaining shreds of confidence. In conclusion, I feel that friends, even the closest of friends, need not tell each other everything they know or feel. Some matters, of course, should be discussed with friends, while some others should be hidden. We have to balance our love for truth with the practicalities of the situation. Not being perfect, we are bound to make mistakes, of course. So, one must then be prepared to make up with our friends, apologizing for our verbal blunders and forgiving them for theirs. Well, that's what friendship is really about -- accepting people for what they are, imperfections and all. clique treacherous noteworthy a small group of people who spend their time together extremely dangerous deserving attention because important or interesting

Write a composition entitled: How I know my mother loves me. When I was very young, I was a sickly child. In fact, I had to spend most of my life away from school and in bed. Not surprisingly, I was miserable. I fretted a lot and constantly demanded my mother's attention. I was a spoiled brat. During the day, I would demand that my favorite delicacies be served to me and that my favorite stories be read to me. At odd hours of the night, I would ask for a hot drink or a cookie, or just some company. "Mummy, stay with me!" was my constant whine. Not once was that demand refused. Not once did my mother groan or grumble. She answered every unreasonable demand of mine with unfailing patience. My mother would put everything aside to comfort me. My world was very small then. There was just me and Mummy. My world consisted of the feel of her cool palms soothing my brow and her floral scent as she leaned over me to tuck in my blanket. I remember her low voice, hushing me as I fretted about the pains in my joints. Most of all, I remember the look in her eyes, of deep concern for her sick child. That was how I knew my mother loved me then. Miraculously, I have outgrown my childhood ailments. Now that I am on the threshold of adulthood, my world has grown to include many exciting friends. Set free from the prison of the sickbed, I revel in the fun that the world has to offer. My relationship with my mother has suffered from my wild pursuit of fun. She criticizes my choice of friends and tries to enforce rules and regulations to curb my activities. out way, way past Two nights ago, I stayed my "curfew" hour, which is eleven o'clock. It was almost 1 a.m. when I reached my house. To make matters worse, I had been unable to call home to inform my mother that I would be delayed. There were no phones where we were "hanging out". I knew that I was in for it! My mother flung open the door the minute she heard my friend's car pull in. Her face was red, sweat was pouring down her temples. My friends made a quick exit as she ranted at me, her arms waving wildly. I didn't say a word, in case one of those hands should find its mark on my face. I was ordered straight to bed. As I got into bed, she stood in my room, still ranting at me for my disobedience and "wild behavior". I was tired. I just wanted to sleep. I looked up at her face to try to gauge if her scolding would be continuing much longer. Then I saw something familiar about the look in her eyes. It was the same look of concern that she had always had when I was so sick. I saw in her eyes all the fears that she had suffered that night as she waited for her daughter to return safely.