I have always loved holidays. They haven't necessarily always been straight-forward but I still love them. Some memories stick to the front of my mind; they are impossible to forget. Most likely because they are regularly getting thrown around the dinner table - whether we like it or not.
One of the earliest memories is still the most vivid. It's the memory where we never actually make it on the holiday. Around the age of six I remember my parents telling me and my older brother we would be going to Disneyland, Florida. Blanking out my parents speech, my mind was flicking through every Disney film I had ever watched and loved. Finally, three lengthy days later the holiday had arrived and we were soon to be jetting off to the castle I had only ever seen at the start of films. Drive to Heathrow completed, seated on the aeroplane, we were all prepared and ready to leave. Well, until we were informed on the present tornado happening throughout Florida. The next half an hour was filled with questions and queries from the passengers followed by them disappointingly gathering their thoughts and belongings and alighting the plane, Disney dreams shattered. However, I stayed glued to my seat still unaware of what this 'tornado thing' was; it couldn't be as bad as the storm on the trip to Wales, could it? Next to me my brother was sensibly expressing his thoughts on the situation, informing me on how lucky we were not to be there. Still confused, i stayed sat there questioning both my parents and the flight attendants while the plane emptied. Determined not to be defeated by this storm I selfishly stood my ground. Until, one of the friendly flight attendants bribed me with a chocolate ice-cream, highlighting how easily persuaded my six year old self was. Luckily, we were still able to go on holiday that year.
Another more recent memory was a trip to France where fifteen of us stayed in a house with an uncanny resemblance to the one featured in the horror 'The Woman in Black'. Unfortunately, on this holiday my parents were unable to go as my dad became ill close to the holiday, but my family still urged me to go. After a holiday filled with water fights and french food it was time to leave and drive back to Bristol. On the drive home, around 3am, we were woken by a disgruntled looking customs officer ordering us to get out the car and follow him. Confused we all followed him. Half of us, including me, did not have shoes on and were wearing ridiculous onesies. As we followed him into a professional, magnolia colored office it turns out it went over all our heads to have a consent letter to let me out the country; we had only remembered one to take me in. Both me and my family friends were horrified as they customs officers proceeded to ask me questions from one of the dads names to my best friends birthday.At this point my heart was racing as I planned my new French life. Once the questioning and a stern telling off was over the officer confirmed I had answered the questions correctly and was allowed back to beloved Bristol. It's fair to say we laughed uncontrollably the rest of the way home, relieved I would not have to stay in France. Since that year we all go to France, including my family. However, we now remember everything, in fear of having to relocate.
This is a really good piece Jazmine, well done. Your language choices are clearly well considered and I like the way you are using differing sentence structures, as this exaggerates and heightens the feelings you are describing. In terms of your discourse structure there isn't much cohesion between your first and second paragraphs so they seem like two separate pieces. Although they are both strong pieces and joined by theme, make sure you don't try and squeeze too much into a short space! However, I think you have done really well.
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