my home essay for class 5

Essay on My Home in 200, 300, 400, 500, 600 Words for All Classes

A very beautiful collection of My Home Essays. We have got an essay on every form, short and long. You can find a suitable one for your needs. I am sure you will find the best one for yourself.

In This Blog We Will Discuss

Essay on My Home in 200 Words

We are a big family living together in a big house. I love to live with my family and that’s why I always enjoy living in my home. We live in a village near Ahmedabad. It’s a very beautiful village and only a 1 hour drive from the city . My grandfather built that two-storied building for the family.

We are a joint family still now. We have 13 family members in total. Still, now that’s a big building for us. There are 10 bedrooms and each bedroom has an attached toilet. The location of the house is near a small river. And when I come to my veranda on the west side, I can see a very beautiful natural view.

We have a good internet and electricity connection in our home. That’s why our life is not that much different from city life . Although, we don’t need to face all the traffic problems here. There are so many reasons why I love to live in my home.

This is the place where I find peace. Wherever I stay, I always feel homesick and I want to get back to my family. And I know everyone is like this because we have some extra affection for our home.

My Home Essay in 300 Words

Introduction:

Home is where we are born, live, and spend the sweetest time of our life. We all love and enjoy living in our home. Today I am going to share lots of information about my home. I will tell you how much home looks and how we are living there.

I live in a small village near Azamgarh, UP, India. My village is one of the most beautiful places here due to natural beauty. My father never intended to move from here because he loves to stay with the people of this village.

We have a very big and old house here in the village. Because we are a joint family with my 4 uncles. My father is the oldest son of his dad and that’s why he controls everything. My uncles, aunties, and their kids are living here together with us.

We are a big family. Our home was built almost 50 years ago. My grandfather built it by marble stone. This is one of the most beautiful homes in the village. It is two-storied and there are almost 25 rooms in the building.

I love to live here a lot. There is a huge garden in front of the house. My father tries to paint the house every year, and that’s why it looks very beautiful.

We have to spend a big amount of money on the maintenance of the home. I feel this house is the safest place for me and I feel a lot relieved when I am staying there.

Conclusion:

Everyone loves their home and they love to live there like me. It doesn’t matter how your home is, but everyone loves it. Because it’s the place where we were born, and it’s the place where our family lives.

Essay on My Home in 400

Introduction:

To me, my home is the best place to live in. The first reason behind it is my mother is here. We all have immense affection for our own home. We all have a home and we love to live there. Today I am going to share some important things about my home.

My home is located in Bandra, Mumbai. My father built this home almost 20 years ago. This neighborhood was not that much crowded before and only a couple of buildings were here. But now it has been a really important place for the entire city.

The value of land is pretty high here. We are very lucky that my dad made this building for us. It is a three-storied building. We live on the 2nd floor and the entire building is on rent. We make a good amount of money from this rent.

We are living in a unit with two bedrooms. Each bedroom has an attached toilet. And there is an extra toilet too. There are very beautiful kitchen and a dining room.

My mom keeps the entire home very neat and clean. Especially she keeps the living room very beautiful. The living room has some beautiful paintings and I love them a lot.

My room is the most beautiful room in the entire building. My room is full of beautiful dolls, paintings, and different types of toys. My bed is very small but very beautiful. My dad bought that for me from Canada.

I have a very beautiful veranda there and I can enjoy the beautiful outside view from there. My reading table and chair are also beautiful. I can use my computer there too. Overall it’s a very beautiful set up for me.

Garden at Front of My Home:

There is a big and beautiful garden in front of our home. The garden is completely made by my dad. He has worked very hard for the garden. It has been so beautiful because of his hard work.

There are different types of flower plants in the garden. I love to work in the garden. It has added huge beauty in our home. I love the garden a lot. I am planning to add more plants there.

Conclusion:

That’s all about my home. I love my home very much and I love living there with my family. It’s a very important place for me because my family lives here.

My Home Essay in 500 Words

A home is a place where our heart is. We all love to be with our family and it’s only possible when we are living with our family. Today I am going to share all about my home. My home is very special to me.

My home is located in Banani, Dhaka. This is a very reputed area in the city. When my father came here to build this home, this place was not that much value and only a couple of buildings were here.

But now it has been the most important place in the country. It is the perfect place for operating a business based on Dhaka. Our building is two-storied. We live on one floor and the other one is on rent.

It was designed by a very good architect and the building structure is pretty good. We color it after a regular break and that’s how the entire building looks very beautiful. The people live here for rent, they are also very happy about our house.

They always say that they love to stay here forever. We have got a good bonding with them. On our floor, we have two-bedrooms, three toilets, one kitchen, and a dining room. There is lots of space for the living room there.

My parents decorated the room properly and made it a perfect living room. My room is one of the most beautiful parts of the entire building. I have got everything in the room. My veranda is on the west side and I can see a bit of a natural view from there.

Sometimes I come out and sit there with a book in my hand. I have a big wardrobe to keep my clothes and a big bookshelf to keep my books. My computer table is also very beautiful. I love to work on that.

We don’t have any cars, that’s why we don’t require any parking space. But we have enough parking space in front of our house. It will be required because we are planning to get a car soon. Overall, my home is amazing and very interesting to me.

Why Do I Love to Be in My Home?

There are so many reasons why I love to stay in my home. First of all, I think I feel some extra comfort here. Everything is very easy and effortless here. I love to live with my family.

And that’s another huge reason behind living in my home. When I go away from my home, I feel very homesick. I want to get back home as soon as possible.

Happiness doesn’t depend on the size of the house, but on the attitude of the family members. We are a very happy family living together happily with lots of love and fun. Our house may not have a lot of luxury but we feel very comfortable and safe here.

Essay on My Home in 600 Words

‘Home is where the heart is’, it’s a famous quote about your own home or homeland. Almost everyone has their own home and they prefer to live in their home. In this essay, I am going to talk about my home.

I always think that my home is the best place for me to live in this world. We all feel special when we stay at home. When you go away for a few days or a week, you can realize how much you miss your home and get homesick.

I have a very beautiful home. It was built by my father 10 years ago. It’s a two-storied building located in Delhi, India. My father shifted himself here with the entire family. He struggled a lot before building this house here.

There are some beautiful things that I am going to share with all of you about my home. First of all, let’s talk about the rooms. We have a total of 10 rooms in the building. The terrace is very beautiful with lots of beautiful flower plants.

My reading room and bedroom are on the 2nd floor. I love to live there. But our kitchen and dining room on the first floor. My parent’s bedroom is on the 2nd floor too. My elder brother and sister and my grandma live on the first floor.

Our living room is also on the first floor. This is a very well decorated room with two beautiful sofa sets and a big screen Television. I love spending time in the living room. My sister made this room very special with her own interior knowledge.

When any guest arrives at our house, we let them sit here. There are some mind-blowing paintings too on the wall. We have got a well decorated and complete kitchen. My mother and maid cook food there. My mom can cook delicious food.

The dining room is pretty big and we all eat together there. My father never tolerated eating separately. My room is also very big and I try to keep it neat and clean always. My sister helps sometimes to keep my room organized.

There are so many reasons that are why I love to be in my home. The first reason is my family. When I’m living in my home, I can stay with my family. And I love my family a lot.

It is very easy to live with them. When I live outside of my home, I can feel how hard it is. Everything in my home is very familiar and known to me. I don’t need to go through any hardships while I’m here. Food is a huge issue for me.

It’s hard for me to digest outside food. I love eating food that is cooked by my mom. My sister also cooks sometimes. She can cook well too.

Who Lives in My Home?

There are six members in my family. My two siblings, parents, and my grandmother . We’re a very small and sweet family.

All members of my family are very caring and loving. They all love me a lot and that’s why my home has been more interesting for me.

That’s all about my home. I love this place and that’s where I love to live. This is an amazing place for me. All the things that are related to my home are very fond of me. I can’t stop loving my home. Wherever I live I want to get back to my home.

10 Lines Essay on My Home

Here is a beautiful and short 10 lines essay on my home. This short essay is very easy and important for the students.

1. Home is where our heart is, and that’s a very true saying for us. We all love to be with our family in our home.

2. My home is very beautiful, built by my grandfather. He is still alive with us.

3. It’s a small but beautiful house. We are totally 5 members living in the home.

4. There are a total three bedrooms in the house. My parents share one bedroom, and my brother shares one with me and another one is for grandpa.

5. Every bedroom has an attached toilet. And there is an external toilet too.

6. The kitchen is huge and it looks beautiful.

7. My mom keeps the living room well decorated and there are some amazing paintings too.

8. The other rooms are also very good in condition and my mom take care of the entire house.

9. We are living a simple and happy life together.

10. I love living in this home with my entire family and I find lots of peace on that. It has some extra comfort.

How can I write about my house?

If you want to write about your house, you can follow this beautiful ‘my home essays’. We have provided tons of simple and easy-to-learn examples for you.

Best My House Essay in English For School Students

My House Essay: We are here to share with you a short essay on my house in English for classes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7 students. The most important place in my life is where I was born, my house, which is the most significant gift of my life from God.

Latest Essay on My House For School Students

Table of Contents

5 Lines My House Essay for Class 1

(1) The most important place in my life is where I was born, my house, which is the most significant gift of my life from God.

(2) My whole family lives together in my house.

(3) Our house is a white and blue colored, two-floor building.

(4) There are a total of six rooms, a kitchen, a drawing room or guest room, and a fane (a shrine or temple).

(5) There is a small garden in front of our house in which various types of flowers and fruit trees are planted.

My House Essay 10 Lines

(3) Talking about the members of my house there is my grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, uncle, aunt, me, my brother, and sister in my house.

(4) In my family, everyone loves me a lot.

(5) Daily I go for a walk with my grandfather every evening, and he takes me to a nearby garden and narrates stories about his past life.

(6) Our house is a white and blue colored, two-floor or two-story building.

(7) There are a total of six rooms, a kitchen, a drawing room or guest room, and a fane (a shrine or temple).

(8) There is a small garden in front of our house in which various types of flowers and fruit trees are planted.

(9) There is greenery all around my house, which looks very beautiful to see and is also a healthy nature as compared to polluted cities.

(10) So this is my lovely house.

Short My House Essa y in English For Class 4 and 5

The most important place in my life is where I was born, my house, which is the most significant gift of my life from God.

My whole family lives together in my house.

Talking about the members of my house there is my grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, uncle, aunt, me, my brother and sister in my house.

In my family, everyone loves me a lot.

Daily I go for a walk with my grandfather every evening, and he takes me to a nearby garden and narrates stories about his past life.

There are a total of six rooms, a kitchen, a drawing room or guest room, and a fane (a shrine or temple).

There is a small garden in front of our house in which various types of flowers and fruit trees are planted.

There is greenery all around my house, which looks very beautiful to see and is also a health nature as compare to polluted cities.

So this is my lovely house.

My House Essay For Class 6 and 7

My house is located in Nawalgarh city of Rajasthan. My house is located in Shivaji Colony, Nawalgarh.

My house is ancient, and my grandfather built our house.

Talking about the members of my house there is my grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, uncle, aunt, me, my brother and sister in my house. In my family, everyone loves me a lot.

Our house is a white and blue coloured, two-floor or two-storey building.

Our house is the most beautiful building nearby in our colony. And I love hearing the appreciation of our house. Mostly whoever comes to our house loves our house design and colour and appreciates us.

There is a kitchen in my house where my mother cooks and feeds us every day.

There is also a temple in my house where my grandmother worships god daily.

There are stairs to go to another roof of our house. There is a boundary wall around our house. A separate large room has been arranged in our house for the guests to sit, whenever they come here, they stay there.

With that, there are two big trees in our garden one is of Neem and a Mango tree.

On the Neem tree, we have a swing on which I, my friends, and my brother-sister swing every day and enjoy it.

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Essay on My House | My Home Essay For Children & Students

Essay on my house | My Dream House Essay & Paragraph For Children & Students

Introduction

House is not just a building. It is a place where we live with our family. It is our entire happiness of life. We share our sorrows, grief, happiness and joys under same roof. It is the most peaceful place on earth for any person.

Almighty has blessed me with sweet home. A home is where mom is. It is no less than blessing to live with your family and siblings. There are a lot of homeless people in the world. I always believe house is one of the beautiful blessings of Almighty.

Describing My House in Essay

I live in a small town. It is about ten kilometers from main city and very peaceful place. My house is at left corner of town. It is small house with three bedrooms.

There is also bathroom and kitchen in my house. There is also a TV launch at my house. Our whole family sits together at night and watch TV serial.

It is very special watching television together. My mother has maintained my house very beautifully. She always keeps it clean.

She is always busy in doing household work. She is very fond of keeping her house clean and my little sister also helps her in her work.

My elder brother is fond of gardening. He has grown many flowers of different colors in our house. These flowers present very pleasant look to our house.

He has also maintained a small lawn at house. Greenery is very refreshing and it is very peaceful for mind and soul. My father often enjoys his evening tea in this lawn.

This small house is very important for every member of the house and every person is happy in it. My house has all the necessary facilities. It has electricity supply and water supply.

Home is the blessing of God

My house is no less than a blessing. It is surrounded by lovely people. My relatives live in our surrounding and we often share our delicious dishes as well as other matters with each other.

I am blessed that I am protected by four walls and roof. We are two brothers and one sister at our house. I share my bedroom with my brother. We often help each other in studies and discuss a lot of matters. My father really works hard to maintain this house.

There are a lot of homeless beings on earth and we should be thankful to Almighty for our house. House is a source of protection and peace. It does not matter whether it is big or small.

It should be peaceful. I always find a lot of solace at my house to live with my loved ones. I always share my problems with my father and mother.

I have very strong bonding with my brothers and sister. We also fight sometimes but we always enjoy a lot. My house is no less than paradise. There is no bigger happiness than living your life with loved ones and enjoying it.

House is one of the most important things in our life. Man is greedy and always wants more and more. A person who has house wants bungalow.

The one who has bungalow wants palace and so on. It is not important to have a luxurious house but it is very important to have a peaceful house.

One should always try to make it beautiful my helping each other in house and loving each other. I am really thankful to Almighty for this blessing. My house is the most beautiful house of the world as I live in it with my loved ones. I enjoy my life a lot and forget all my worries when I enter my house.

[sc_fs_multi_faq headline-0=”h3″ question-0=”1. What is the difference between a house and a home?” answer-0=”While technically speaking there is the visible difference between the house and home. The difference lies in understanding the terms of house and home. The house is more individual or personalized. It refers to a building or space where someone lives. While, the home, in contrast, is a general term. It is used in reference to a place of living, building or a specific locality where a person lives thinking it being a place of belonging or attachment. ” image-0=”” headline-1=”h3″ question-1=”2. Why is home so important?” answer-1=” Home is close to heart. It embodies our sense of true feeling and attachments to that specific place of living. The part of moments that we spend in our home becomes the crystal and eternal piece of our living. ” image-1=”” count=”2″ html=”true” css_class=””]

Paragraph on My Dream house For Children

My House Essay

English essay on my house, 150 words on my house essay.

I live in a very beautiful house. My home is a place where I feel safe and secure, and I want to spend as much time as possible there.

There are three bedrooms, one dining room, a kitchen, and toilets in my home. In front of the home, there is a huge compound where we have planted flower plants. We sowed seeds for vegetables in the backyard. My house is very airy and well lighted.

My home is made of bricks, wood, tiles, and marble. The floor is fully made of marbles. Each of the bedrooms is large, airy, and well-lit. Toilets are big and attached to a shower. Our dining hall is beautifully decorated. The kitchen is open, and we can enjoy the scenery of the backyard from there.

My home is really pleasing and beautiful, but my family members bring still more charm and elegance to it. I love my house very much.

200 Words on My House Essay

A home is a place where a person feels protected from the tension of everyday life. I live in a very beautiful house. It is located in a new and large city colony.

There is a bus stop nearby, as well as schools and colleges, and stores. My house is a place where I feel comfortable and confident and where I want to spend as much time as possible.

There are three bedrooms, one dining room, a kitchen, and toilets in my home. There are three bedrooms, one dining room, a kitchen, and a toilet in my house.

In front of the home, there is a huge compound where we have planted flower plants. We sowed seeds for vegetables in the backyard. My house is very airy and well lighted.

My home is made of bricks, wood, tiles, and marble. The floor is fully made of marbles. Each of the bedrooms is large, airy, and well-lit. Toilets are big and attached with a shower. Our dining hall is beautifully decorated. The kitchen is open, and we can enjoy the scenery of the backyard from there.

250 Words on My House Essay

My home is made of bricks, wood, tiles, and marble. The floor is fully made of marbles. Both of the bedrooms are large, airy, and well-lit. Toilets are big and attached to a shower. Our dining hall is beautifully decorated.

The kitchen is open, and we can enjoy the scenery of the backyard from there. All the windows are made of brown wood. They are wide and open on sunny days. The dining hall window attracts me a lot because it faces a street lined with huge old oak trees.

We have very good neighbors. They are very kind, loving, and helpful. My home is really pleasing and beautiful, but my family members bring still more charm and elegance to it. I love my house very much.

300 Words on My House Essay

A home is a place where a person feels protected from the tension of everyday life. I live in a very beautiful house. It is located in a new and large city colony. There is a bus stop nearby, as well as schools and colleges, and stores.

My house is a place where I feel comfortable and confident and where I want to spend as much time as possible.

All the windows are made of brown wood. They are wide and open on sunny days. The dining hall window attracts me a lot because it faces a street lined with huge old oak trees.

My mother is a huge fan of house plants, so we have a lot of them in our rooms.. There is also a small garage. I adore every single detail of my home. It is very special to me.

We have very good neighbors. They are very kind, loving, and helpful. My house is very peaceful and comfortable. It’s all because my parents both create a special atmosphere in the house, and I need to learn from them that how to transform a regular house into an exceptional home.

We also have an essay on My Neighbours , My Garden , My School .

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10 Lines on My House in English | 10 Lines Essay on My House for class 1 - 10

Hey, Children How are you? Hope you all are doing well. 10 lines on my house in English or 10 lines essay on my house are frequently asked essays in the school examination. Here I will provide my house 10 lines essay which is helpful for class 1,2,3,4,5,6 students. Although it is not perfect for class 7,8,9,10th students, you can use these lines in your 150 words essay.

10 Lines Essay on My House in English

10 Lines on My House in English for Class 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10

10 Lines Essay on My House in English for Class 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10

Few lines/sentences about my house .

These are the few lines or sentences about my house essay . If you need 10 lines essay or 5 lines essay on my house in English then you can write any of the above lines.

Essay on myself

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Essay On My House For Class 1, 2 & 3 Kids

Key Points To Remember When Writing An Essay On My House For Lower Primary Classes

5 lines on my house, 10 lines on my house in english, a paragraph on my house for children, short essay on my house in english for kids, long essay on my house for kids, what will your 1st, 2nd or 3rd grader learn from this essay on my house.

Everybody has a strong connection to their house. The house’s structure, size, special features, elements of beautification and even the family members residing in the house make each home unique and special. Essay topics such as describing “My House” are frequently asked in class as part of writing exercises. Essay writing is an important skill that children need to develop from an early age. My House is a relatively easy topic as children can gather lots of thoughts and details about their house creatively. Let us guide your child to write an essay on My House for classes 1, 2 and 3 in a few single lines, a short paragraph, and a long paragraph.

Here are some tips for writing an essay on My House:

Five-line essay for class 1 is the best way for your child to learn how to write. Here is an example of a five-line essay:

A longer essay for classes 1 & 2 sets the foundation for writing skills in children by gathering more ideas and including more details. Check out this example of a 10-line essay on My House:

Short paragraph essays are a good place to learn how to write longer essays. Here is an example of a short essay on My House:

Every person needs a house to stay in. I live in a cozy house in the middle of the city with my parents and younger brother. Our house is just one street away from the playground where I go to play cricket. Our house has two bedrooms, one living room, and one kitchen. My brother and I share the same room in the house. Since my house is close to the main road, we find it easy to go from our house to any part of the city. We have a terrace in the house where my brother and I often play. I love my house because it is a great place to live.

Here is an example of a short essay on my house. These essays are the building blocks to learning how to write long essays:

My beautiful house is on the outskirts of the city. We have built our house on a big plot with lots of garden space and greenery to enjoy. My house has three bedrooms and a living room, along with a kitchen and a dining room. All of this is surrounded by a high compound wall on which we grow decorative creepers.

Our house is spacious and also well-lit since we have huge windows in all the living spaces. When we sit for our breakfast every day, we enjoy a wonderful view of the backyard with the lawn and flowers. Different materials such as bricks, cement, tiles, marbles, and wood were used to build the house.

My house is the best place in the world, and my friends love to come here and play with me. We have plenty of space to play all the games and don’t have to go out on the street.

A long descriptive essay about my house can be tricky to write because children need to write creatively after gathering several ideas. However, children can write a good essay by going about it systematically and maintaining the flow. Here is an example of an essay for class 3:

I live in a gorgeous house inside a colony in a small town next to the city. Our house was constructed recently, and we moved in a few months ago. It is a two-storied building with four rooms, a living room, kitchen, dining room, terrace, and a basement. We have plenty of space within the compound to build a garden. We have planted many different types of flowering plants and vegetables in our garden.

My room is on the first floor with a big balcony that has a panoramic view. It also enables me to set up my telescope and observe the night sky comfortably. We have a big kitchen with a door that opens to the garden in the back. My parents take their tea on the lawn every evening in the kitchen garden.

My favourite part of my house is our terrace. It is a vast open space on the roof of our house which is nicely decorated for spending leisure time. There is a large swing on the terrace, on which I love to spend my evenings reading my favourite books. Sometimes I also call my friends over, and we play catch on the terrace. At night, the open terrace is breathtaking to look at. I can see all the stars and the moon as well when the skies are clear. I like to lie down and count the stars during such clear nights.

Our house is located in a very friendly and nice locality. There is a small market near my house from where my father brings fruits and vegetables every morning. We also have very good neighbours. They are kind and generous people who are ready to help at any time. I love my new house and all its beautiful features. I enjoy spending time in my house more than anywhere else.

From these examples of compositions on My House, children can gather plenty of ideas on how to write an essay on their own. This essay is also a great opportunity for your children to express their thoughts and feelings about their home. It also helps them observe their house in better detail than ever before, as they write their observations in words.

Our house has a special place in our hearts. It is the place where we feel safe and secure. From the examples above, children can pick up ideas and craft their own compositions on the topic.

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2+ My Hometown Essay for Class 3, 4, 5 to 12th

My Hometown Essay for classes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, & 12th, is about 150 words & 400 words based on the following headwords.

My Hometown Essay in English 400 words

Introduction

The name of my town is Noida. It is located near Delhi. Noida is a high-tech city in the Delhi-NCR region. Noida is the main city of Gautam Buddha Nagar. It is just a few kilometres from Delhi.

The climate in my hometown is too hot in summer and too cold in winter for only a few days. There is sufficient water in the rainy season, so there is no shortage of water in any season.

The main occupation of the people

People from all walks of life live here. Among them are IT professionals, software engineers, businessmen, farmers, shopkeepers, and labourers.

Centre of Trade

The town is the centre of trade. It is famous as an industrial town. There are many big MNCs (Multi-National Companies), large-scale factories and several smaller factories.

Schools and Colleges

There are various schools and some of them are of international standards. My school is DPS Noida, located near sector, 30.

In my town, there are several engineering colleges and degree programs. They are known for their discipline, results and other achievements.

Modern Facilities

All modern facilities are available here. Transport is equally convenient here, and the metro makes travelling safe and easy.

The city’s public transportation runs on CNG, as well as private buses, autos, and battery rickshaws. In Noida, there are municipal parks in almost every locality.

The Noida Stadium sector-21 is a popular venue for events, functions, and exhibitions of all sizes.

Greenery is what attracts people to the park, and morning and evening are excellent times for exercise and jogging. It is a must for everyone to keep healthy and fit.

There are playgrounds, matches, and games played there. The market is electrified. Atta Market and GIP Mall are the most popular shopping malls in Noida.

There are some reliable stores to shop at, and home to many big & trustworthy publishers, too.

I love my town very much. There is greenery and the environment is pleasant. Modern facilities are well-developed and well-equipped. My wishes for its progress and prosperity are always the same.

READ | QUICK Essay on Country Life vs City Life!!

Essay on My Town Prayagraj (Old name Allahabad) | My Town Essay

The town I lived in once was famous for one thing: it was home to the first three Prime Ministers of India.

Jawahar Lal Nehru was born in Prayagraj, Sri Lal Bhadur Shastri had a house here, and Indira Gandhi grew up here as well. Anand Bhawan, donated to the nation by the third Prime Minister, is now a place of historical importance.

Prayagraj is situated near the Sangam, the place where the two rivers, The Ganga and the Yamuna, meet. Thousands of tourists and pilgrims come to Prayagraj to dip in the Sangam.

It is a serene city because there are not many industries around. However, Naini, a suburb of Prayagraj, is a rapidly developing industrial hub.

There are a number of agricultural institutes, the Indian Telephone Industry, Universal Tyres factories and a glass factory.

The city of Prayagraj has the Jeep Flash Light factories which make batteries. There are a few spots in Allahabad which have scenic beauty.

Visitor attractions include the old but majestic stone buildings of the High Court and the offices of the various departments.

Prayagraj is famous as a Hindu pilgrimage centre. Tourists around the world come here to learn about this auspicious place. The main office of the Board of Secondary and Intermediate Education is situated in Allahabad.

The headquarters of the education department of Uttar Pradesh is located in Allahabad. The University of Allahabad is among the oldest and most prestigious universities that have produced many scholars.

The markets of Allahabad are not as extensive as those in metros like Delhi, Kolkatta, Noida, Bangalore, Hyderabad etc. Yet the Civil Lines market offers some attractions for outsiders.

Visitors want to see the street stalls, the picture houses, the fountain in the centre of Civil Lines, and, above all, the Hanuman Temple.

Allahabad (now renamed Prayagraj after Yogi Adityananth took the oath as CM) City in Uttar Pradesh is associated with many historical stories. It is evident by the name Prayagraj, which means “the abode of God”.

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My Mother Essay for Class 5 Students

Essay on my mother for class 5 students.

Mother is a very special and important person for every child. In fact, she is the most precious gift of God for anyone. A child can see the world only because of her. She is a friend, parent, guide, and teacher to her child. She takes care of the entire family and turns a house into a beautiful home. She brings up her children with the utmost care, compassion and love. She illuminates our homes with her presence and smile. The word Mother itself brings emotions to us and every child is very emotionally attached to their mothers. The safest a child can feel is in the warmth of his/her mother’s lap.

For me, my mother is the symbol of love, honesty, truth, and compassion in this world. My mother is an inspiration for me. She is an amazing woman. She is the woman I admire the most. I start my day with my mother’s smile. She is the first one to wake up every morning, every single day. She starts her day at five in the morning by taking our pet for a walk. She then wakes my brother and me and prepares us for school. She takes care of our lunch boxes with different menus every day. She drops us at the bus stop. Her waving hand gives us assurance that she is always there for us no matter what. She helps us with our studies and assignments. My mother is the one to spend sleepless nights when we fall sick. She is always very concerned about our education, health, and happiness. She defines our character every moment. She also compromises her needs and ensures that our needs are taken care of first. She always guides us to do the right things in life and choose the right direction. She does everything possible to make us feel comfortable all the time. She is our best friend. We can share all our secrets with her and whenever we are in jeopardy, we know that our mother would give us some solution. Many times, she becomes a child herself and enjoys to the fullest with us like going out for movies, shopping and playing ludo, cards, etc.

My mother not only takes care of us but also takes care of our father and grandparents. She is the pillar of strength for our father. She is the one who creates strong bonds among all our relatives. She is always on her toes catering to all needs and requirements of my grandparents. She has never stepped back whenever our neighbors and friends approached her for help. She helps in volunteering for community work for the betterment of our society.

She takes care of every household chore without complaining even once. She runs a food business alongside. She has relentless stamina to manage both home and business. She has immense emotional and physical strength to surmount everyday challenges and obstacles both in business and home. Sometimes I wonder how she manages everything at the same time. She is so good at multitasking and she does it flawlessly.

Her positive attitude and skills have broadened my strength to stay calm during challenging times. I aspire to be like her and inculcate all her qualities.

A mother is like Mother Nature who always gives unconditionally without any expectations in return. It is not easy to be a living inspiration for someone and to do so requires a life full of positivity, wisdom, conviction and enthusiasm. Mother is not simply a word; in fact, it is a whole universe in itself. She is indeed the most important person in everybody's life.

FAQs on My Mother Essay for Class 5 Students

1. Why is Mother So Important in Our Lives?

Every child's mother is a highly special and significant individual. In reality, she is the most valuable gift that God has given to anyone. Only because of her may a child see the world. She is her child's mother, friend and teacher. She takes care of the entire family and transforms a house into a lovely home. She nurtures her children with the utmost love, care and compassion. With her sheer presence and grin, she brightens their home. The word "mother" evokes strong emotions in us, and every child has a strong emotional bond with their mothers.

2. Why is My Mother So Special to Me?

My mother is so special to me because she takes utmost care of my brother and me and loves us unconditionally. She takes care of our health, studies, and assignments. She shapes up our character. She ensures that all our needs are met.

3. How Does a Mother Sacrifice for Her Children?

A mother compromises her needs and ensures that our needs are met first.

4. How is a Mother Compared to Mother Nature?

Like Mother Nature, a mother keeps giving unconditionally without expecting anything in return.

5. What is the author’s mother’s routine in My mother’s Essay?

According to the author, his/her mother is a truly remarkable woman. The author admires his/her mother the most. The author’s day begins with his/her mother's grin. Every single day, she is the first one to get out of bed. She goes for a stroll with our dog at five a.m. to start her day. After that, she wakes up the author’s brother and the author and gets them ready for school. She prepares their daily lunch boxes, which include a variety of menus. They are dropped off at the bus stop by her. Her waving hand assures them that she will always be there for them, no matter what happens. She assists them with their schoolwork and homework.

6. How does his/her mother take care of the author and the whole family in My mother Essay for Class 5?

When kids are sick, their mother is the one who has to sleep through the night. She is worried about their education, health, and happiness at all times. Every moment, she defines their personality. She also sacrifices her own needs in order to put others' needs first. She always encourages kids to do the right things and go in the right direction in life. She goes out of her way to make people feel at ease at all times. She is their closest companion.

7. Why does the author compare his/her mother to mother nature in My mother Essay?

She possesses tremendous mental and physical stamina to overcome daily challenges and problems at work and at home. The author sometimes wonders how she manages to do everything at the same time. She is an expert at multitasking and does so with ease.

Her positive attitude and abilities have increased the author's ability to remain cool in stressful situations. The author wishes to emulate her and adopt all of her characteristics.

According to the author, a mother is similar to Mother Nature in that she constantly gives unconditionally and without expecting anything in return. Being a living inspiration for someone is difficult, and it necessitates a life filled with positivity, wisdom, conviction, and excitement. Mother is more than just a word; it is a universe unto itself. She is, without a doubt, the most significant person in everyone's life.

8. How does the author’s mother take care of the rest of the family in My mother’s Essay?

Not only does the author's mother look after him and his brothers, but she also looks after their father and grandparents. For their father, she is a pillar of strength. She is the one who helps all of their relatives form strong bonds. She is constantly on her toes, responding to their grandparents' every need and desire. When their neighbors and acquaintances sought her for assistance, she never shied away. She contributes to the advancement of our society by volunteering for community service.

She takes care of all of the household chores and never complains. She also operates a culinary business. She has the tenacity to handle both her house and her business. She possesses tremendous mental and physical stamina to overcome daily challenges and problems at work and at home. The author sometimes wonders how she manages to do everything at the same time. She is also an expert multitasker. For free study materials, go to the Vedantu app and website.

May 20, 2016

20 lines 'My Home' Essay for Class 1 , 2| Pointwise

1st class my house essay for class 1

Design your home with "My Home App" or "my home design" available on Google Play. Search "My home" on Google play store.

1st class my house essay for class 1 - or Essay on my home

Few More Points on My Home Essay- or Essay on my home

My Home Essay

Home is one of the best places in our life that provide peace and comfort to each and everyone in this universe. It brings love and life for members living united in a home. Whenever we go for any tour and remain few days outside our city then after returning we feel complete satisfaction after haphazard life of walking from one hotel to another. At that moment we realise the real value of our home.

My Parent is the Powerhouse of My Home:

Strong ethical foundation is the reason of our complete happiness:.

He has actually laid an extremely strong ethical foundation of our character. And my sister is the cutest creature I've ever seen. SHe is so little however she is quite efficient in revealing her issue for me. When I am in a severe state of mind, her giggles make me laugh even. I am fully guided with my religious foundation of Islam that is the starting and final way of life as per instruction of Almighty Allah as per the belief of my home and family members. May Allah bless us all and fulfill our home with joy, happiness, peace and satisfaction.

My home is situated on Mahatma Gandhi Road; which lies in the New colony. Formerly, it was a common locality, and now it has completely turned into a high-class location.

My Feeling and Happiness with my home design:

We are very delighted with this house. Hence, I can state that happiness relies on the mindset of a household and not on the size of your home or other ownerships that we have. My Home design is a very important and memorable planning of my Grandfather. Therefore its design is very close to my heart.

Outside of My home :Essay on my home

My house has a courtyard on both right and left side when watched from Verandah. Behind our house, there is another similar house. On both sides likewise, we have houses of next-door neighbors.

Thus, our house opens freely on one side only. On this side, we have a high border wall which keeps us practically shut off from whatever may be occurring in the street exterior.

I reside in this small house. It has three-bedrooms, one dining room, one long kitchen, and one Guest Room beside a bathroom and toilet.

Home Goods and Construction Material:

My house is made of brick concrete, though high-grade marble houses are now rather typical in this Area. It is an old one and requires few repairs. My mother says that she will one day pull it down and construct a brand-new one in its location.

Since we have no cars and truck and have a scooter just, we have no parking issue. We park my bike in the left side of the verandah and therefore it remains safeguarded against sun and shower.

My moms and dads share one bed-room and I have the other bed-room where all home goods near me are available. I think, my space is quite all right for my requirements, though it likewise includes a closet in a part of it; where the clothes of all the three members of the family are put.

My Feeling has Strong Attachement to My Home

My family wants to reconstruct it. I, however, like my house and do not want that it should ever be demolished. I have, certainly, grown obsessed with it. My feeling has attached to my home so much that I cannot ever think for any modification or reconstruction. Its my way and feelings about my home.

Other essays that are available at my site are listed below. If not available then please send demand of essay on available form on this site.

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Essay on My School for Class 5

We must encourage young minds to write short and simple essays at an early age. This activity introduces them to several chains of thoughts and inspires them to use their imagination and compose their thoughts into words. For example, a child can write “My School Essay For Class 5” where they can talk all about their school.

We are providing two essay samples for students of class 5 on the topic ‘My School’ for reference.

Short Essay on My School of 100 Words

A school is a place of learning and training for professional and social life. My school was founded in the year 1961. The name of my school is St. Patrick’s Day School.

The environment in my school is lovely and so is the school environment is speckless and attractive. The school has three main buildings, and all of them are connected by one another.

There is a playground in front of the school building. My school gives primary, secondary and higher secondary education to young minds. My school is very well-rounded, and it excels in many fields may it be sports or academics. I love my school.

Engage your Children into diverse thoughts and motivate them to improve their English with our Essay for Class 5 and avail the Simple Essays suitable for them.

Long Essay on My School of 150 Words

School is known to be an essential part of life is our childhood. Such a relaxed time never comes again in life. In my school, I experience all those moments of joy and happiness collectively.

The name of my school is Loreto Day School. It is located in the middle of a bustling city. There isn’t much greenery, but there are beautiful flower beds all around the school ground. The school ground is located in front of the main building and administration office.

My school is quite a distance from my house. So I to take my school to reach my school every morning. I get to school every morning at 7:45 am and attend my school, and we end at 2 pm. We have classes from nursery to grade 12.

My school has very qualified and experienced teachers who educate us and teach us morals. My school excels in academics, sports, and cultural arts too. I’m thrilled that I am getting to spend my school life in a school like this.

10 Lines on My School in English

Frequently Asked Questions on My School

Question: What is school in simple words?

Answer – A school is a place where children and adults go to learn about several topics. In a school or university, many teachers or professors help students to learn.

Question: How many years are dedicated to schooling in India?

Answer – In an average Indian school, one has to study in twelve grades before graduating school.

Question: What I like about my school?

Answer – My school gives us creative freedom that helps all students to have their perspective. It helps us to grow in all aspects, along with academics.

Essay on My School for Class 5

Short Essay on My School of 100 Words

A school is a place of learning and training for professional and social life. My school was founded in the year 1961. The name of my school is St. Patrick’s Day School. The environment in my school is lovely and so is the school environment is speckless and attractive. The school has three main buildings, and all of them are connected by one another. There is a playground in front of the school building. My school gives primary, secondary and higher secondary education to young minds. My school is very well-rounded, and it excels in many fields may it be sports or academics. I love my school. Engage your Children into diverse thoughts and motivate them to improve their English with our Essay for Class 5 and avail the Simple Essays suitable for them.

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Long Essay on My School of 150 Words

School is known to be an essential part of life is our childhood. Such a relaxed time never comes again in life. In my school, I experience all those moments of joy and happiness collectively. The name of my school is Loreto Day School. It is located in the middle of a bustling city. There isn’t much greenery, but there are beautiful flower beds all around the school ground. The school ground is located in front of the main building and administration office. My school is quite a distance from my house. So I to take my school to reach my school every morning. I get to school every morning at 7:45 am and attend my school, and we end at 2 pm. We have classes from nursery to grade 12. My school has very qualified and experienced teachers who educate us and teach us morals. My school excels in academics, sports, and cultural arts too. I’m thrilled that I am getting to spend my school life in a school like this.

10 Lines on My School in English

Frequently Asked Questions on My School

Question: What is school in simple words? Answer – A school is a place where children and adults go to learn about several topics. In a school or university, many teachers or professors help students to learn. Question: How many years are dedicated to schooling in India? Answer – In an average Indian school, one has to study in twelve grades before graduating school. Question: What I like about my school? Answer – My school gives us creative freedom that helps all students to have their perspective. It helps us to grow in all aspects, along with academics.

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Three Years After a Fateful Day in Central Park, Birding Continues to Change My Life

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By Christian Cooper

The author of the forthcoming book “Better Living Through Birding: Notes From a Black Man in the Natural World,” from which this essay is adapted.

May 26, 2023

Early in the morning of May 25, 2020, I biked from my apartment on Manhattan’s Lower East Side to Central Park to go birding in the Ramble. Despite the uncertainties of the time — New Yorkers were living in a hot spot of the raging Covid pandemic, with no vaccine in sight — I strove to start this warm, sunlit Memorial Day on a happy note by wandering my favorite urban woodlands in search of migrating songbirds.

I was focused on the end-of-season hunt for a mourning warbler, a small yellow and gray skulking bird that’s difficult to spot and relatively rare. I hadn’t yet seen one that year.

Visiting the park in the morning to look for birds has long been a springtime routine for me. I wake before sunrise and grab my Swarovski binoculars — a 50th-birthday present from my father — and head out the door.

On that particular day, just as I approached some ideal mourning warbler habitat, a noise shattered the tranquillity, making me wince. The sound was loud, strident and unmistakable: a person calling after a dog.

This is not terribly unusual; Central Park is full of dogs. But the dog in question was running around unleashed, and the Ramble is a protected area where dogs are required to be leashed at all times.

Of course, some owners have always flouted the rules and let their pets run amok, but in the spring of 2020, the off-leash situation had become something of an epidemic. In the more than 30 years I have been birding in the Ramble, I had never seen it so bad. Dogs were routinely left to run roughshod over sensitive areas, tearing up turf, destroying plantings and disturbing wildlife, including migrants in desperate need of rest.

So I asked the woman calling the dog, in a voice just loud enough for her to hear me over the 20 or so feet between us, to please leash her pup.

If you were paying attention to the news that day — and probably even if you weren’t — you already know what happened next. The woman refused my request, and as our interaction got heated, I pulled out my phone to record her scofflaw behavior. In the video I captured, she threatens to call the cops and then, as a white woman, takes our rather quotidian conflict to a racially explosive place, by picking up her phone and saying, “I’m going to tell them that there’s an African American man threatening my life.”

Little did I know that those 14 words would reverberate across the nation and alter the course of my life.

But then again, birding has changed my life many times over.

I have been interested in birds ever since I was a young boy. As a Black kid growing up on Long Island in the 1970s, I was rarer than an ivory-billed woodpecker in the white suburban world of birding. I was also queer and nerdy and not particularly popular. I was suffocating in the closet, and birding offered me a way to escape. I’d watch American robins hop on lawns looking for worm sign, fire-truck-red cardinals adorn backyard shrubs, mockingbirds take to TV antennas (cable wouldn’t arrive into most homes for a few more years) to belt out medleys punctuated with leaps into the air, feathers of gray and white flashing against an Ansel Adams sky. For a moment, my Long Island rooftop would be as boundless as the West.

Transported, even just in my backyard, I connected to something deep within myself. The youthful myopia that registered only my woes and the limitations of my life fell away for a little while. Suddenly, I could breathe again.

My spark bird — the birding community’s term for the bird that ignited my interest in all things feathered — was the red-winged blackbird. When I was 9 years old, my parents, perhaps hoping it would butch me up, enrolled me in a summer woodworking class. When faced with the choice of building a footstool or a bird feeder, I picked the feeder. And no sooner was it up in our backyard than the cracked corn it dispensed lured in a nearly all-black bird with a bright red patch on its wing.

I had never seen a bird like that before and thought, with elation, that I had discovered a species of crow. But it didn’t take long for me to learn the bird’s true identity or for my disappointment that I hadn’t accomplished a preteen scientific triumph to be replaced by a singular fondness for the species.

Over the years, the red-winged blackbird’s raucous territorial cry would become like the voice of a familiar friend. To this day, that sound — which signals the males’ return after being away all winter — is, for me, the first harbinger of spring.

Spring is by far the most exciting time for a birder. Every year, as the weather grows warm, everything else in my life — work, exercise, food, sleep, friends, romance — becomes secondary to my search for birds. I reorganize my days so that I can rise each morning at 4:20 to commune with scarlet tanagers, indigo buntings, subtle Lincoln’s sparrows, fire-throated Blackburnian warblers.

Consigned to a limited assortment of mostly ordinary birds for most of the year, Central Park becomes a migrant trap during the spring and fall, creating a haven for avian and human tourists alike. And since, unlike the fall, the spring features males in beautiful breeding plumage, New York’s unparalleled spring songbird migration, lasting about six weeks, is my holy season.

And while I may be a fanatic, I’m not alone.

On any given morning, a few other Central Park regulars and I might form an impromptu posse. Together, we pass a few hours in quiet wonder before racing off to work. Over the years, I have learned a lot about my fellow birders and their lives beyond the park — their careers and families, their worries and ambitions — but whatever else we bonded over, the main thing we shared was a profound love of birds. Our passion was the only passport for entry.

One of the things I love most about birding is how it shifts your perceptions, adding layers of meaning and brokering connections — between sounds and seasons, across far-flung places and between who we are as people and a wild world that both transcends and embraces us. In my life, it has been a window into the wondrous, and I feel excited and grateful to get to share that wonder with others.

Of course, the freedom to explore and appreciate the joys of the natural world is not shared equally by all. When I was a child and my parents took us from Maine to California to Canada to go camping, we were always among the few brown-skinned people we saw. And to this day, Black people visit national parks — perhaps the most spectacular public spaces on the planet — at a depressingly low rate .

An understanding of the racial as well as physical geography of our country is often top of mind for Black birders and outdoor enthusiasts. We write our own sort of “Green Book” — the segregation-era travel guide that listed establishments where Black people on the road could hope to find safe lodgings and a meal — keeping a mental map of where we do and don’t feel we can bird, camp, hike, climb or simply exist safely.

Even in my beloved Central Park, even before that now-infamous encounter, a part of me was always keenly aware that for me, as a Black man, stalking behind a shrub with a black metal object in my hands would most likely be interpreted far differently — dangerously differently — from a white birder doing the very same thing and holding the same pair of binoculars.

If you don’t give one whit about birds (though, of course, I hope by the end of this, you will) and have never held a pair of binoculars in your life, allow me to welcome you to a different world.

If you’ve never seen a male scarlet tanager in full breeding plumage — a bird of such incandescent hue, set off by jet-black wings and tail, that it makes a stoplight look dim — then a knock-your-socks-off experience awaits you. And that’s just the beginning of the show, from the gaudy, Technicolor riot of a painted bunting to the serene, pristine grace of a great egret, from the effortlessly soaring majesty of a golden eagle to the fierce frenzy of a hummingbird, from the bold color blocks of a red-headed woodpecker to the exquisite nuance of pattern and muted tones of a Lincoln’s sparrow.

What makes birding such a phenomenon? Why — of all the spectacular creatures with which we share this planet — do birds captivate as no others can? You don’t hear about mammaling or insecting enthusiasts, though certainly those creatures have their admirers, as the thousands who visit Africa on safari or who catalog butterflies can attest. And in fact, there’s a large degree of overlap among all these obsessions, because once you tune in to one aspect of nature, you eventually become aware of the whole connected network of life around us.

Birding, however, offers things those other passions do not. It’s accessible. No matter where you are around the globe or what kind of environment you’re in — city, suburb, country, mountains, woodland, field, swamp, shore or sea — the presence and variety of birds are astonishing. With birds, no matter the time of year, there’s always something to see. Plus, birds communicate in the same ways we do, through sight and sound. They’ve evolved a stunning range of patterns and colors and, among the songbirds, an astonishing musical repertoire, and we humans are equipped to revel in it.

But beyond all that, we love birds for a simple reason: They can fly. We see them launch themselves effortlessly up into a medium with no boundaries while we remain earthbound, and we are inspired to dream. Imagine watching land and sea unfold beneath you not through the windows of an airplane but under your own power.

The things that you’ve left behind recede to insignificance, put into new perspective by a towering vantage point. What it must be like to hang suspended on the wind, how radically different to conceive of movement not in two dimensions, not just as backward and forward, left and right, but in three — always infinite possibilities of direction, the body rising and falling at will. We lift our gaze skyward to the birds and see what it means to be free.

Of the many disorienting twists in the aftermath of the Central Park incident, one of the most unexpected is that my voice is now amplified in matters about which I have always spoken out, including preaching the gospel of birding.

In 2021, National Geographic invited me to host a television show on birding, “Extraordinary Birder,” and I said yes. The result is that I now find myself living an absolute dream. I spend my time crisscrossing the continent in pursuit of iconic species, having close encounters with the rarest birds (it doesn’t get any closer than peering via endoscope inside the body of a Puerto Rican parrot, or iguaca, to check on its testicles) and having the privilege of telling the harrowing and inspiring stories of these birds’ conservation — and of the farmers, biologists and truly extraordinary birders dedicated to these efforts — in front of the camera to a mass audience.

Over the past three years, I’ve worked to make it clear that birds know no boundaries and belong to no one but are for everyone — of every shape, size, color, gender and orientation — to enjoy. And I’ve been thrilled to see the numbers of birders, including Black and brown birders, who remain underrepresented, continue to surge.

I hope to be a part of that change, underscoring the need for safe and equal access to public spaces and natural places and inspiring those who might not have otherwise felt inclined to step outside and give birding a try.

The strangeness of this outcome — that the incident in Central Park inadvertently opened the door to this — is not lost on me.

But then we birders are a strange breed. We have feathered dreams, dreams that have filled my head from earliest youth. Birding served as a refuge as I struggled with being a queer kid in an unwelcoming world. It compounded my Black outsider status but also set my complete and utter nerdiness in concrete.

Birding put me on the path to the life I live today — one that has had greater impact than I ever imagined. These feathered dreams have carried me across the globe on adventures, in search of birds in faraway places.

I believe that birds in the wild are meant to inspire such passions in us all. The wonders they offer are always available, freely given, to anyone willing to partake. All we have to do is step outside, look and listen.

Christian Cooper is an American science writer and the author of the forthcoming book “Better Living Through Birding: Notes From a Black Man in the Natural World,” from which this essay is adapted.

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Polly Toynbee: what my privileged start in life taught me about the British class system

It wasn’t just luck that steered the Guardian columnist to Oxford and into a media career ... She reflects on the subtle mechanics of class (and an early encounter with a naked future PM)

C hildren know. They breathe it in early, for there’s no unknowing the difference between nannies, cleaners, below-stairs people and the family upstairs. Children are the go-betweens, one foot in each world, and yet they know very well from the earliest age where they belong, where their destiny lies or, to put it crudely, who pays whom. Tiny hands are steeped young in the essence of class and caste. In nursery school, in reception they see the Harry Potter sorting hat at work. They know. And all through school those fine gradations grow clearer, more precise, more consciously knowing, more shaming, more frightening. Good liberal parents teach their children to check their privilege – useful modern phrase – but it swells up like a bubo on the nose. There’s no hiding it.

I can summon up the childhood shame at class embarrassments. Aged seven like me, Maureen, with her hair pinned sideways in a pink slide, lived in a pebble-dashed council house by the water tower. They were at the other end of Lindsey, more hamlet than village, half a mile down the road from my father’s pink thatched cottage set in the flat prairie lands of Suffolk, where I spent half my time, the other half in London, shuttling between divorced parents. I envied Maureen for what looked to me like a cheerful large family tumbling noisily in and out of their ever-open front door. They never asked me in, so I would hang about the door waiting for Maureen to come out and play.

Polly Toynbee outside a cottage in Suffolk with her father, Philip, and a dog.

Maureen and I played fairies in the cornfields, crept about scaring each other in St Peter’s churchyard next door, drew hopscotch squares on the road and threw five stones on and off our knuckles. One day we had a cart, an old orange box set on pram wheels. We took it in turns pulling along the rope harness and riding in the box, up and down the flat road outside her house, shouting, “Giddy-up,” and waving a stick as a mock whip.

It was my turn, I was in the box and Maureen was yoked in as my horse, she heaving me along making neighing and whinnying noises while I whooped and thrashed the air with my stick. Suddenly, there came a loud yell, a bark of command. “Maureen! Get right back in the house, now! Right now!” Her mother was standing in the doorway with the baby in her arms. “You, who do you think you are, your ladyship, getting my girl to pull you around! What makes you think she should pull you, eh? Off you go home and don’t you ever, never come back round here again!” Maureen dropped the rope and scuttled back home. I thought she’d explain we were taking turns, but she was scared of her mother. I jumped out of the cart and ran all the way back to my father’s house in tears of indignation. Not fair! But something else in me knew very well that there was another unfairness that wasn’t about taking turns, that couldn’t be explained away. Somewhere deep inside, I knew it meant Maureen would never have the turns I had. And Maureen’s family knew it well enough.

T his is a story about English class, as divisive now as ever. Class-consciousness was deep-dyed in our veins, my family of liberal and leftist descent, social reformers, anti-colonialists, good internationalists, atheists, communists, socialists and social democrats. For as far as I can reach back to uncover, all sides of the family lived on the left, from my grandfather, the universal historian Arnold Toynbee, to his father who worked with Beatrice Webb on the poor laws. My great-grandfather Gilbert Murray, Regius Professor of Greek at Oxford, vegetarian, teetotaller and fierce anti-conservative, was in his turn following his father’s example, an Australian administrator campaigning for the rights of Indigenous Australians and against capital punishment and transportation. Gilbert’s wife followed the example of her mother, the ferocious “Red Countess” of Carlisle, keeper of Castle Howard, Irish home ruler, women’s rights campaigner, so strictly temperance she smashed all the wine bottles in the castle’s cellar.

In each generation my family were forever locked in combat with the perpetual old enemy, the forces of conservatism. But to live a well-heeled life on the left is to live with inevitable hypocrisy and painful self-awareness, with good intentions always destined to fall short of ideals, social concern never enough, struggling to be good but inevitably never good enough. I hunted hard for any redeeming twig of a working-class branch of my family tree, without success. Confessing a background of privilege comes hard to the likes of us, who can claim no “merit”, no handy pulling-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps rugged path to our good professional jobs as writers, academics and teachers, set on our lucky way at a young age. Even when I idled my education away and sabotaged my chances, I still landed back on my well-shod Start-Rite feet. The shame of it is here, in my lifetime, social mobility has fallen into reverse. Birth and inheritance is destiny more certainly, the ladders up steeper and the inequality deeper than when I started out writing.

T he older children grow, the more refined their social antennae become. You might think that at a middle-ranking girls’ boarding school, Badminton School in the dull Bristol suburb of Westbury-on-Trym (nothing to do with the stately home of Badminton horse trials), every one of us belonged to the same social class. In the crude weighing scales of sociologists, that would be so, all “AB” demographic children with parents or grandparents able to stump up the middle-ranking fees. But from all of English literature, from your own life, you will know the importance of subtle gradations of social difference. This was not a school for the aristocracy, but everyone knew the significance of money, eyeing the cars and clothes each other’s parents arrived in. But the devilry of English class is that money is not the whole story. More important than wealth was parental occupation, status and education, with that great gulf between profession and trade.

From high to low, there can barely be a schoolroom in England where children can’t rank one another’s families fairly accurately. I have often reported on the misery of desperately poor children first arriving in school, branded from day one for the wrong uniform, cheap trainers, no lunch box, no lunch money, no PE kit, nothing to write in an essay on “My Summer Holidays” or “My Christmas”. The rule isn’t absolute: clever, talented, funny, interesting or just plain lucky children break free of low social origins. Dim and dull richer ones do sometimes slide down in their peers’ esteem. But class at my school was subtle and always unspoken: too flash parental Jaguars and fur coats were despised as vulgar. Nonetheless, the big picture of social class destiny was played out in microcosm even in my apparently homogeneous middle-class schoolroom.

Aged 12, we were divided into A streamers and B streamers; let’s call them sheep and goats. Sure enough, the daughters of doctors, academics, scientists, teachers, lawyers, diplomats, a Nigerian daughter of the governor of Kaduna, an Indian politician’s daughter, one bishop’s daughter and any similar children of highly educated professionals glided effortlessly up to the A stream. But the daughters of trade were more likely to be relegated to the B stream, often day-girl daughters of local Bristol businessmen or farmers from around the West Country. Maybe this was unconscious bias on the school’s part, or maybe they simply went by children’s results, or their perceived intelligence or intellectual interests. In this subtle grading, parents’ education predestined most of us either to the Latin set or to the domestic science stream. The Latins were headed, it was presumed, to university, the cooks to secretarial college. Since we were usually hungry, the Latins hung around outside the cookery room yearning for the pies and cakes the others carried out in silver tins – and yet we Latins knew perfectly well that we were glad to be designated A streamers. Since I hated Latin and failed it at O-level, I’d have had a better time with the domestic science stream, but of course I’d have been appalled at relegation to the B stream: social status trumps cakes.

I left Badminton with four bad O-levels, no maths, no science, no Latin, so the value for money was poor. Those marks were not, directly, the school’s fault: much of the teaching was conventionally good, but I was too rebellious to work, too angry to obey, too impatient to get out of there. Observing the many schools my four children have attended, the few schools that succeed concentrate first on happiness: learning is drudgery without it. And schools are undoubtedly happier places for my grandchildren than they were when my children experienced them, let alone back in the late 1950s when I was sent away.

Polly Toynbee photographed at home in May 2023.

At 16 I took myself out of that detested school and into the sixth form of Holland Park, the gleaming new first comprehensive in Notting Hill. There for the first time I found pleasure in education. As for the missing O-levels, I took them again my first term at Holland Park where I was steered through retakes with kindly persuasion, under the mentorship of Mr Stedman Jones, the scholarly head of the English department, devotee of Dr Johnson. This fine teacher, against all family expectation, guided me into winning an Oxford open scholarship too, by passing on to me his deep fascination with and knowledge of Jacobean drama, studying far beyond the ordinary curriculum, engrossing me in his literary obsessions.

But now when I think about it again, probably that extra help from a great comprehensive teacher wasn’t pure luck. What if I’d been a working-class O-level failure, who would have bothered to see if I was worth a second chance? Mr Stedman Jones may have picked on me for special coaching because he knew of my family’s literary and academic background and just assumed I must have an inherited talent hidden away somewhere, though I had nothing much to show for it. I was once told by an academic of an appealing education experiment conducted some years ago that alas I haven’t been able to trace: a group of teachers were picked and told they had been specially selected as the most highly skilled to teach some particularly brilliant children, children who were also told that secret tests had revealed they were exceptionally gifted. Both teachers and pupils did extraordinarily well, though all had been chosen at random. Expectation is everything.

The truth is, the Oxford scholarship exam of those days was designed to reward people of exactly my background and journalistic state of mind. Its general paper was one of the most enjoyable and encouraging exams ever devised, with scores of essay questions to choose from on every conceivable subject, open-ended, imaginative and even fantastical in their scope. Choose any question on any subject and show off to us! Intrigue us with a parade of ideas! It searched for what you could do best, while most exams aim to catch you out on what you know least. That should be the guiding spirit in all exams, I thought. But that’s because it best suits dilettantes already exposed to wide reading, precisely as encouraged by my background.

This heavily class-biased exam would disadvantage very clever applicants who had worked exceedingly hard at every subject at school but lacked the family or an Alan Bennett History Boys teacher or my Mr Stedman Jones to open their wings at this early stage in their life. This was the perfect exam to select future newspaper columnists.

H ow narrowly I escaped teen motherhood and an end to any educational expectations. I was bowled over in love with a clever and cerebral boy, son of a high Catholic convert mother but humanist father, sent to Ampleforth, though by then he had thoroughly shaken off all that. His breadth of cultural and intellectual interest was beyond anything I had come across among friends of my age. I was awe-struck not just by him, his avid reading, zeal for jazz, poetry and left-wing politics, but also by his cool and detached air of grace. His father was a wise and humorous international human rights lawyer, who reminded me of Mr Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. As for his older sister, who became a good painter, I looked up to her with a kind of hero-worship for her wild and funny exuberance.

But as he was about to go to Oxford, I was appalled to find I was pregnant and even more appalled at his anti-abortion mother pressing us to marry. She suggested we would live in an Oxford flat, where I would bring up the baby while he studied: the end of my own future worried her not at all. We paid a visit to his newly married sister, who was living in Oxford’s Summertown, up the road from my great-aunts. I was pleased to see her, this lively, funny and magnetic character. But she was living, as far as I could see, the life their mother expected me to live, married and cooped up in an Oxford flat with a baby. Though she was herself a student, wifedom and life with a baby looked to me like a brutal curtailment of studenthood, locked in at home. There was her baby, Alexander, a few months old, lying naked on a bath mat, kicking his feet in the air, round, pink and fat, with a remarkable shock of electrically bright blond hair. As I gazed at him, I didn’t find that baby at all appealing, too pink and too noisy. I shuddered at the prospect of this motherly existence, threatening an end to my life before it had even begun.

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Afterwards, as we both contemplated this scene, looking at his sister and at the vision of our future stretching out ahead of us, he broke off with me. His mother was plainly glad, but she called me many times to insist that I have the baby and give it away to a Catholic adoption agency. I was aghast that anyone could suggest anything so cruel. This was still before abortion was finally legalised in 1967. But I was lucky, again. My family’s GP was a disreputable and amenable practitioner, who we always thought made extra money on the side by dispensing more or less anything anyone wanted, and so he prescribed what were then illegal abortion-inducing pills: after two days of great pain, to my immense relief, that was the end of the pregnancy. But I didn’t know if my boyfriend’s mother might investigate and report me, and I feared she might. The end of that relationship left me heartbroken and bereft, taking revenge by writing him into my (not very good) first novel. That baby on the bath mat, who so decisively put me off the idea of teen motherhood, grew up to be the most disgraced prime minister under his ludicrously changed name of Boris: he looks much the same.

As for my former lover, he is a serious writer and thinker and a remote friend: odd how impossible it is to recapture old passions. I simply recall the fact of the agony of unrequited love, but look at him now as an interesting but distant person, all passion spent. As for Boris Johnson, I look back with a morbid incredulity at what that baby grew up to be. It’s a not particularly good joke to surprise people with the fact that I am one of the many women to have seen him naked.

U ltimately, I threw my education away, abandoning university midway through second year, and I regret it. Why? It’s far too long ago to summon up an honest answer. I could say arriving mid disastrous affair with a married roué TV presenter the same age as my mother, a famously seductive character, notorious (I didn’t know) for a succession of young girls discarded in turn, until a few years later he killed himself. I could say that having my first novel published in my first term was an act of such presumption that it set me up for a crash landing at Oxford. I could say it was the scholarship’s unbearable pressure to get a first, with my two great-aunts, one a professor, one a don, walking their dog down to visit my tutors regularly to enquire after my latest essays. Maybe it was taking up with Jeremy Sandford, screenwriter of Ken Loach’s Cathy Come Home, and living part-time on his ramshackle Brecon Beacons farm looking after ragged sheep and ponies. In truth, I can’t recapture the blend of woe and impatience that propelled me out. My shocked tutor, Jenifer Hart, said, “You will regret this for the rest of your days. Everyone who leaves here tries to come back and we never, ever take them.”

It must have taken the cocky self-assurance of a secure middle-class background that I never doubted I would earn my living. It was 1968, drop-out era, jobs were plentiful and no one worried. It was another universe for my luckiest of generations, compared with my pressured grandchildren who will emerge into a land of ferocious competition for fewer chances. But I did feel a fundamental distaste for Oxford and all its ways, its conceits and arrogances, its denizens’ obnoxious certainty of their superior merit. Whatever the reason, I threw it all away recklessly. Because everything is preserved for ever by the recording angels of the internet, those on the right who detest what I write in my Guardian columns sometimes dredge up my lack of a degree as ammunition to prove my stupidity and evidence that I don’t know what I’m talking about.

I nsofar as there was a plan, this was it: I had to pay back my scholarship money, and I would earn my living by working all day with my hands, leaving my mind free to roam over the next section of the second novel that I would sit down and write in the evenings. I was not intending to write about work or factories, just to earn enough to get by while I wrote my modern Middlemarch. I took a job on the production line of the Tate & Lyle sugar-packing factory, beside a trickling remnant of the River Wandle in south London, where it was easy to walk up and straight into work.

Inside the great vaulted works, issued with overalls, hairnet and cap, the shattering, clattering and clanking battered the ears, while deep vibrations sent clouds of sugar dust up into the air. I’d been working as a waitress in a Wimpy and then in a Golden Egg , but I preferred the drama of a factory, the sheer ingenuity of what these machines could do. Besides, factory work paid more into the weekly brown paper pay packets of notes and coins, because it was well unionised with everyone a member of the Transport and General Workers’ Union.

“Sitting next to Nellie” was the only induction, training or safety instruction in manual jobs back then (so is it still in many jobs, I later found). The sugar came cascading in a torrent down chutes into the waiting blue and white Tate & Lyle paper bags that whirled round the conveyor belt at high speed as metal levers shot out and folded down one paper flap after another, adding a dollop of glue before scooting the bags down the line. There were two basic jobs: one was standing under the chute by the metal levers to pull out bags fast if any misfired, split or failed to seal. The other, less skilled, was heaving in turn first six then eight bags off the line to stack into boxes on a slower conveyor line behind.

I would get home exhausted and aching, but beyond that, deadened in the brain by the noise and the transfixing monotony of the same action repeated 10,000 times over. So how was that second novel coming along? How was all that working with my hands to keep my brain free for higher things? It was a sharp lesson in why factories, construction sites, laundries, cleaning agencies, warehouses and catering kitchens don’t seem to produce their fair quota of literary output. I stuck it out for a couple of months, as a matter of pride, to prove to myself I wasn’t a middle-class weakling, too soft and spoilt to do an ordinary job. But I lasted no longer. Not a word emerged on paper of an evening on to my old black Remington typewriter.

What finally propelled me out of the factory was a growing bloom of a rash, all up my arms and then legs and face, itching like fury, unhelped by Pond’s or Nivea. The other women laughed: they all got it, they said, the sugar rash, but it usually wore off after six months as your body got used to it. I didn’t wait to see.

Polly Toynbee reporting on industry for the Observer, talking to a man wearing a hard hat

Why would you, if you had a choice? And I was born with choices. At university after my novel was published I was commissioned to write sometimes for the New Statesman, including an ill-advised attack on Oxford that caused a measure of outrage. Asking around for any writing work, by luck I discovered the Observer needed a temp for a week or two to cover for someone away ill on the Pendennis column, a miscellany of short pieces. When Anne Chisholm, the page editor, came back, she said she’d been wanting an assistant so she kept me on, no one apparently noticing an extra job added to the payroll. When I talk to young aspiring journalists now, all with not only a degree but an MA from a good postgraduate journalism course, they are amazed it was so easy to slide into newspapers, but 1968 was a lotus time of plenty.

I never meant to be a journalist. But once I was there, sent out with notebook and Biro, I was gripped by reporting. I gravitated to the news desk where, whenever possible, I pushed to report on work and labour. Industrial stories, strikes, strife and unions were staple news, and I was drawn to reporting on the nature of work and its conditions, eager to puncture the myths of all that “dignity of work” extolled by those not doing it.

Feeling ignorant of the world beyond my upbringing, I took time off to set out around the country, taking jobs in different towns and industries to try to understand work and a working-class world a planet away from my South Kensington background. Often the middle-class writer’s eye is instinctively drawn to extremes, to the romance of the gutter, to homeless people on the streets, to the near-starving and desperate cases. Instead, I wanted to report on the ordinary, the everyday work it took to keep a family’s head above water. That’s where the great class divide yawns, right there, the grand canyon in education, life chances, surroundings, sense of security, expectations, presumptions – there in the nature of work itself.

This is an edited extract from An Uneasy Inheritance: My Family and Other Radicals by Polly Toynbee, published by Atlantic Books on 1 June (£20). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com . Delivery charges may apply.

Polly Toynbee will talk about her new book at a Guardian Live online event on Wednesday 31 May. Book tickets here

Autobiography and memoir
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