Text 1: Learning to fly in a warehouse, by Dev Sharma

An original contemporary magazine article.

The old carpet warehouse on Bridge Road doesn’t look like a gym. Inside, though, it is a playground of scaffolding poles, wooden boxes and padded walls, and on Saturday mornings it fills with teenagers learning parkour, the sport of moving through a space by running, climbing and jumping.

I joined the beginners’ class at the age of thirty-eight, which the coach, Tasha, described as ‘brave’. We began with fifteen minutes of warm-up: jogging, crawling on all fours like bears and rolling across the mats until I felt seasick.

Then came the real lesson. Tasha taught us to land from a low box with bent knees, absorbing the impact through the legs rather than the spine. Next we practised the ‘precision jump’, leaping from one narrow rail to another and sticking the landing without wobbling. The fourteen-year-olds managed it at once. I managed it on my eleventh attempt, to a round of ironic applause.

Safety is taken seriously. Nobody attempts a move until they have mastered the one before it, and the coaches choose low obstacles, suitable mats and close supervision for each learner’s ability. ‘It looks like showing off,’ Tasha said, ‘but really it’s about control and confidence.’

We finished with stretches and a run along the top of a low wall. My calves ached for three days afterwards, but I have booked the next class.

Text 2: A letter about drill, by Gwendolen Medlicott

An original letter written in a nineteenth-century voice; a period simulation, not an archival document.

In this letter, written in 1885, a fifteen-year-old pupil at a girls’ boarding school writes to her mother about a new exercise class.

Dearest Mamma,

You asked me to tell you about the drill, and I will, though Clara says it is not a fit subject for a letter. Every afternoon at four we go down to the long room, which has had the desks taken out, and Miss Venn, who has been trained for the purpose at a college in London, puts us through our exercises for three-quarters of an hour.

We stand in rows wearing loose blue tunics, which are far more comfortable than our ordinary frocks, and no stays are allowed, which shocked Clara’s aunt very much. First we march round the room to the piano, then we do arm and leg exercises in time to the music, counting aloud. After that come the Indian clubs, which are like great wooden bottles that we swing round our heads in circles. I hit myself on the ear the first day and was quite deaf for an hour.

Miss Venn says that girls who sit all day over their books grow round-shouldered and weak in the chest, and that drill will give us straight backs and good appetites. I can answer for the appetite at least.

Your loving daughter,

Gwendolen

Using information from both texts, explain briefly what the exercise classes involved.

You should make it clear which text you are referring to.