May 1st 2013. Our Journey On The Wild River.

Sometimes I wonder what I am doing here; the jungle contrasts so greatly to my normal
domain. I am my happiest sitting on my old chesterfield sofa, pen in hand, notebook on my
lap. Indeed, that is how I have written my greatest poems. Now the heat of the roaring fire
has gone and instead the heat of the Borneo sun beats down on my back. Redmond, whom I
have only known for six months, somehow persuaded me to accompany him on one of his
harebrained adventures. At least I have this, my journal, and my notebook of poems to escape
into when his absurd talk of crocodiles and other jungle creatures becomes too much.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against animals or nature. But I like to see trees in
paintings, in photographs or out of the window of my car as I’m driven to the library. I have
no interest in listening to Redmond recite the Latin name of hundredth specimen of tree we
have passed that day in our rickety canoe. And what’s wrong with wanting to travel in
comfort? A ship, a yacht, a ferry: all respectable forms of waterborne transport. But a dugout
canoe? I was aghast when Redmond revealed it to me. An expression of barely contained glee
all over his rugged face, he was like a child at Christmas receiving his first pushbike. I dread
to think where he will take us next.

At night he spreads out his maps and talks of where we will go next. I have heard him
mention eagles, lizards and monkeys. Even at night I am awoken from my delightful dreams
of stanzas and sonnets by his mumbles about hidden coves and undiscovered whirlpools.
Richmond tells me we will be traveling back with the current, so the journey should be faster
but smoother. I pray that the next few days are a steady meander over calm waters, allowing
me peace and time to compose more works for my next anthology. Needless to say my
suggestions are overlooked.

I made the same request for a peaceful course this morning and settled myself at the back of
the canoe, put my straw boater on my head and lent back ready to immerse myself in the
poetry of Swift, only to be rudely interrupted by Richmond twittering about rapids. I
managed to keep Swift dry, but I was drenched in river water. I debated talking to Richmond
about searching for a calmer route, but he was already gazing into the sky again at some large
and ungainly bird flying by, so I thought better of it and carried on reading. Richmond and I
are two men so similar in upbringing and education and yet our interests are so different. It
dumbfounds me.

In a few days our ‘adventure’ will be over. Not soon enough for me! If Richmond manages to
successfully transport us through this tropical nightmare of creepers and critters we will
emerge from the wilderness and arrive at a small settlement, the nearest this backwater has to
civilization. I sincerely hope to find a shop selling the amenities I am so desperately craving.
Never again will I bemoan the quality of my dear wife’s cooking. Never again will I grumble
when my beautiful daughters’ cheerful playing disturbs my afternoon nap. And never again
will I allow myself to be tempted to travel to far flung places by the inane ramblings of a mad
man.

It was a wise man who said “I have travelled the world through my reading.” Indeed, from
now on, the great works of Literature are the only transport I need.

How to Attempt the Question

1. You will be given a reading booklet insert containing the passage for the journal
writing. Read through the passage carefully. The adjacent question will be provided in
the question paper booklet.
2. You would have to choose relevant points from the passage after having a thorough
understanding of the question.
3. Now, convert the passage's selected points into your own words. After that, you can
start putting the points together in a cohesive manner in the form of a journal.

Let’s take a look at how to convert the selected points from the passage into your own
words.

“It is better to do something you like than study something which is not useful in the future.”

“I like to study something I’m interested in rather than something I’m not and waste
my time. Moreover it will help me in the future as well.”

4. A journal is typically a paragraph or two, this depends on the marks and word count
in the question paper. Meanwhile there are some pointers that you should keep in
mind while writing a journal.

 Begin your journal by writing the date and day at the left hand side of the page.
 A journal should always be written from a first person point of view. The use of the
word ‘I’ in your writing demonstrates this.
 The tone of your writing should be self-reflective. It should be a recollection of
memory. That's you thinking back on something you've done or seen in your day.
 Your journal should only reflect on incidents or observations that happened recently.
 Your thoughts, points, and viewpoints should be expressed by using emotive
language, which gives the reader more insight into the writer's feelings.
 The tense should be past or future tense, depending on whether you're writing about
recent events or anticipating future events or situations.
 Including rhetorical questions in your work will increase the reader's curiosity and
improve your work.
  Finally, don't be afraid to try new things; a journal is, after all, a subjective medium.

Sample 2

MONDAY 26TH JULY 1943

Dearest Kitty,

Yesterday was a very tumultuous day, and we’re still all wound up. Actually, you may
wonder if there’s ever a day that passes without some kind of excitement.

The first warning siren went off in the morning while we were at breakfast, but we paid no
attention, because it only meant that the planes were crossing the coast. I had a terrible
headache, so I lay down for an hour after breakfast and then went to the office at about two.
At two-thirty Margot had finished her office work and was just gathering her things together
when the sirens began wailing again. So she and I trooped back upstairs. None too soon, it
seems, for less than five minutes later the guns were booming so loudly that we went and
stood in the passage. The house shook and the bombs kept falling. I was clutching my ‘escape
bag’, more because I wanted to have something to hold on to than because I wanted to run
away. I know we can’t leave here, but if we had to, being seen on the streets would be just as
dangerous as getting caught in an air raid. After half an hour the drone of engines faded and
the house began to hum with activity again. Peter emerged from his lookout post in the front
attic, Dussel remained in the front office, Mrs van D. felt safest in the private office, Mr van
Daan had been watching from the loft, and those of us on the landing spread out to watch the
columns of smoke rising from the harbour. Before long the smell of fire was everywhere, and
outside it looked as if the city were enveloped in a thick fog.

A big fire like that is not a pleasant sight, but fortunately for us it was all over, and we went
back to our various jobs. Just as we were starting dinner: another air-raid alarm. The food was
good, but I lost my appetite the moment I heard the siren. Nothing happened, however, and
forty-five minutes later the all-clear was sounded. After the washing-up: another air-raid
warning, gunfire and swarms of planes. ‘Oh gosh, twice in one day,’ we thought, ‘that’s twice
too many.’ Little good that did us, because once again the bombs rained down, this time on
the other side of the city. According to British reports, Schiphol Airport was bombed. The
planes dived and climbed, the air was abuzz with the drone of engines. It was very scary, and
the whole time I kept thinking, ‘Here it comes, this is it.’

I can assure you that when I went to bed at nine, my legs were still shaking. At the stroke of
midnight I woke up again: more planes! Dussel was undressing, but I took no notice and leapt
up, wide awake, at the sound of the first shot. I stayed in Father’s bed until one, in my own
bed until one-thirty, and was back in Father’s bed at two. But the planes kept on coming.