Year 5 Reading Café

On Thursday 23rd November, Year 5 had their amazing reading cafe! We read a poem together and then created some fantastic artwork as a response to the question, ‘What might happen next?’ We had an amazing time working together with our friends and visiting adults to put our ideas on paper and you can see from the pictures how much fun it all was!

Here is the poem we shared:

The Washing Machine That Went To The Moon

The washing machine gazed up through the laundry-room skylight.
A year had passed since the engineer’s visit – tonight was the night.

‘There’s more technology in one of these,’ he’d said, with a tap on its casing,
‘Than in the rocket that went to the moon.’ Which set its mind racing.

It would take one giant leap for domestic appliance.
Like the man said, it was only rocket science.

‘You’ve got a bearing loose,’ the vacuum cleaner wheezed,
And all the small cleaning appliances joined in and teased.

‘You’re going nowhere,’ the steam mop hissed – there was almost a riot.
Then the old dryer slammed its door and the laundry room fell quiet.

‘When I was fresh out the box,’ it creaked, ‘I made a voyage me-self,
Crossed oceans to get ‘ere, braved waves as ‘igh as that shelf.’

There were murmurs of doubt, but the dryer was old school,
Had a tattoo to prove it. On its casing was: Whirlpool.

Sure, the dryer was ancient and full of hot air,
But grateful, the washing machine began to prepare.

Baffling buttons and dials covered its outside,
Their function a mystery, even with the owner’s guide.

Surely some combo would send it to space,
But even it couldn’t figure out its own user interface.

Then came the breakthrough, the solution unorthodox,
The fuel for the mission, a mixed hoard of odd socks.

And at last launch day came, time for the show,
It ran through pre-flight checks, go or no go.

Initiate prewash sequence, detach primary cold-water hose,
Begin countdown, remove final load of clean clothes.

Ten, nine…

Soon it would set levelling foot on lunar ground,
A better place than this to spin around.

Eight, seven…

And proudly plant a flag in the traditional manner,
The ‘Formerly White Shirt on a Field of Stray Red Knicker’ banner.

Six, five…

The washing machine gazed up, its drum whirring louder,
The moon in the skylight, round and white as a scoop of laundry powder.

Four, three…

This was a chance none would say it had squandered,
Soon it would report: ‘Houston, the Eagle has laundered.’


The door lock engaged, the drive motor spun
And the countdown reached…


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