Post by fryn on Aug 28, 2010 10:59:53 GMT -5
Name: Barnaby Blackwell
Nickname: Barney
Age: 23
Birthday: February 21st
Place of Birth: London, England
Teaches: World History
Appearance:
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 159lbs
Hair: Very dark brown, longish
Eyes: Brown
Other Characteristics: None
Marital Status: Single
Personality: A quiet and reclusive man who tends to keep himself and his life private, but who also manages to work well with others if called to do so. His attitude is one of a loner but that seems to be initiated by the fact that he is an only child and, perhaps, one left to his own devices during his younger years. It would appear to be merely a matter of confidence that holds Barnaby back and, given time, it is believed this small factor will be over come and that work in the field would play a large part in that process.
Town Area: Venice Beach
Transportation: 1964 Type 1 Volkswagen Beetle (sort of a pale yellow colour)
Family Background: Barnaby was born in London, England, specifically in the wealthy area around Kew. His upbringing was sheltered as his parents - both barristers in the capital - could afford the best of education for their only son. It was hoped that he'd follow in their footsteps and take up the bar but law wasn't to be his forte.
To their initial disappointment, Barnaby excelled at history, opting to venture into the teaching sector.
He moved from London to Canterbury, Kent where he undertook his teacher training at Canterbury Christ Church University. It was only at that stage that his parents finally accepted his chosen career and their support was extensive, even funding his move to the United States where he intended to further his experiences and seek a work placement across the Atlantic.
Class Schedule: TBA
How long havs he been at the school: New
After School Activities: Private History tuition. Runs adventure weekends (days during non-term time) - abseiling, kayaking, rural parcour, paintball and so on.
Activities: Fencing, horse-riding, yachting and archery
Likes: Good food and even better company
Dislikes: Crowded places, bad food and even worse company.
Favorite food: Bakes beans on toast or fish finger sarnies
Favorite dessert: Rhubarb crumble and custard
Favorite non-alcoholic beverage: Ovaltine (made with milk and not water!)
Favorite alcoholic beverage: Pimms No. 1
Favorite color: Earthy tones
Favorite book: Any 'Bond' book by Ian Fleming
Favorite Quote: 'You're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think' Christopher Robin to Pooh (A A Milne)
Other Information: Suffers from seasonal hayfever. Lives with his 2 corn snakes (small pythons) - Monty and Gucci
Celebrity Used: Ben Barnes
Writing Sample:
As he drove his yellow VW Beetle along the route south out of Portland, Barnaby Blackwell sang happily along with Kasabian's rendition of 'West Ryder Silver Bullet'. Happy for a number of reasons. Firstly it was a damned fine day and the Oregon sun beat down, warming the English-born man entirely, but also he was still relishing the after glow of the previous night, and a certain brunette waitress who'd been more than happy to serve him after hours when the 'Copper Kettle' had finally closed for the night. Their night had been one filled with a passion and hunger he knew had to last him for the indefinite future as once he'd reached his destination thoughts of that kind would have to be firmly set aside. His smile grew as his voice rang out with the song's chorus and the wind swept through his dark brown hair.
Behind the sunshades a pair of equally brown eyes focused sharply on the road ahead despite it being bare of any other vehicle. Oregon's Gifford Pinchot National Forest at such an unearthly hour was hardly likely to be busy, but he fully intended reaching Santa Monica before nightfall as the previous few days had been wearing beyond belief. His journey had started back in New York - Fort Hamilton to be exact. From there he'd driven across the country, embarking on a journey that back home would have seen him able to go from the southernmost tip of England all the way up to John O'Groat's in Scotland. The entire length of the British mainland isles. Three times... At least!
The CD ground to a halt and Barnaby reached down to jab a finger at the eject button, only momentarily taking his eyes off the road to do so. The disk was dropped onto the passenger seat and another inserted, this time Muse and the volume was increased as the desert filled with the sound of music - and some pretty bad accompaniment.
He stopped just the once just after Redding before pushing on well into the afternoon and arriving at his destination almost five hours later. Not a moment too soon as he was stating to seriously flag. Hardly surprising given he'd been on the road now for the past 50 or so hours and even with the break in between he'd be the first to admit he was totally knackered. Barnaby pushed his untidy hair off his face as he drew into the town, scooping his paperwork off the seat to his right and trying to find his final destination.
He drew over to the side of the road and flagged down a passerby. "Hey there," he greeted with a smile. "I'm looking for Venice Beach... and also... ah... " He checked the letter once more. "... Miranda Drive. Can you point them out to me?" His sharply accented voice screamed English even if his appearance gave none of that away.
The man obliged and with the directions committed to memory Barnaby set off once more on the final leg of his trek...
Nickname: Barney
Age: 23
Birthday: February 21st
Place of Birth: London, England
Teaches: World History
Appearance:
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 159lbs
Hair: Very dark brown, longish
Eyes: Brown
Other Characteristics: None
Marital Status: Single
Personality: A quiet and reclusive man who tends to keep himself and his life private, but who also manages to work well with others if called to do so. His attitude is one of a loner but that seems to be initiated by the fact that he is an only child and, perhaps, one left to his own devices during his younger years. It would appear to be merely a matter of confidence that holds Barnaby back and, given time, it is believed this small factor will be over come and that work in the field would play a large part in that process.
Town Area: Venice Beach
Transportation: 1964 Type 1 Volkswagen Beetle (sort of a pale yellow colour)
Family Background: Barnaby was born in London, England, specifically in the wealthy area around Kew. His upbringing was sheltered as his parents - both barristers in the capital - could afford the best of education for their only son. It was hoped that he'd follow in their footsteps and take up the bar but law wasn't to be his forte.
To their initial disappointment, Barnaby excelled at history, opting to venture into the teaching sector.
He moved from London to Canterbury, Kent where he undertook his teacher training at Canterbury Christ Church University. It was only at that stage that his parents finally accepted his chosen career and their support was extensive, even funding his move to the United States where he intended to further his experiences and seek a work placement across the Atlantic.
Class Schedule: TBA
How long havs he been at the school: New
After School Activities: Private History tuition. Runs adventure weekends (days during non-term time) - abseiling, kayaking, rural parcour, paintball and so on.
Activities: Fencing, horse-riding, yachting and archery
Likes: Good food and even better company
Dislikes: Crowded places, bad food and even worse company.
Favorite food: Bakes beans on toast or fish finger sarnies
Favorite dessert: Rhubarb crumble and custard
Favorite non-alcoholic beverage: Ovaltine (made with milk and not water!)
Favorite alcoholic beverage: Pimms No. 1
Favorite color: Earthy tones
Favorite book: Any 'Bond' book by Ian Fleming
Favorite Quote: 'You're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think' Christopher Robin to Pooh (A A Milne)
Other Information: Suffers from seasonal hayfever. Lives with his 2 corn snakes (small pythons) - Monty and Gucci
Celebrity Used: Ben Barnes
Writing Sample:
As he drove his yellow VW Beetle along the route south out of Portland, Barnaby Blackwell sang happily along with Kasabian's rendition of 'West Ryder Silver Bullet'. Happy for a number of reasons. Firstly it was a damned fine day and the Oregon sun beat down, warming the English-born man entirely, but also he was still relishing the after glow of the previous night, and a certain brunette waitress who'd been more than happy to serve him after hours when the 'Copper Kettle' had finally closed for the night. Their night had been one filled with a passion and hunger he knew had to last him for the indefinite future as once he'd reached his destination thoughts of that kind would have to be firmly set aside. His smile grew as his voice rang out with the song's chorus and the wind swept through his dark brown hair.
Behind the sunshades a pair of equally brown eyes focused sharply on the road ahead despite it being bare of any other vehicle. Oregon's Gifford Pinchot National Forest at such an unearthly hour was hardly likely to be busy, but he fully intended reaching Santa Monica before nightfall as the previous few days had been wearing beyond belief. His journey had started back in New York - Fort Hamilton to be exact. From there he'd driven across the country, embarking on a journey that back home would have seen him able to go from the southernmost tip of England all the way up to John O'Groat's in Scotland. The entire length of the British mainland isles. Three times... At least!
The CD ground to a halt and Barnaby reached down to jab a finger at the eject button, only momentarily taking his eyes off the road to do so. The disk was dropped onto the passenger seat and another inserted, this time Muse and the volume was increased as the desert filled with the sound of music - and some pretty bad accompaniment.
He stopped just the once just after Redding before pushing on well into the afternoon and arriving at his destination almost five hours later. Not a moment too soon as he was stating to seriously flag. Hardly surprising given he'd been on the road now for the past 50 or so hours and even with the break in between he'd be the first to admit he was totally knackered. Barnaby pushed his untidy hair off his face as he drew into the town, scooping his paperwork off the seat to his right and trying to find his final destination.
He drew over to the side of the road and flagged down a passerby. "Hey there," he greeted with a smile. "I'm looking for Venice Beach... and also... ah... " He checked the letter once more. "... Miranda Drive. Can you point them out to me?" His sharply accented voice screamed English even if his appearance gave none of that away.
The man obliged and with the directions committed to memory Barnaby set off once more on the final leg of his trek...
