Category: That Reminds Me . . .

IN the days before newspaper production moved into the computer age and everyone had to sober up, there was ample scope for howlers. A combination of drunken and incompetent reporters … Continue readingThe Black Museum

DOING my time in godforsaken Blackburn (1977 to 1980) I lived in a council flat not far from a huge warehouse known as Tommy Ball’s. This former cotton mill was … Continue readingBreaking up at 30,000ft

I HAVE written before about happy times as a reporter on my first newspaper, the Burnley Evening Star. Looking back, it never ceases to amaze me that a local rag could … Continue readingPeter the Great

TAKE a meat-and-potato pie. Slap it between two buttered halves of a barm cake (aka bap, teacake, stotty, roll or muffin). Et voilà, you’re about to eat a Wigan kebab. This defiantly unhealthy … Continue readingThe Wigan Kebab

FOR those of us seeking regional news in the 1970s there was a choice between the BBC’s Look North West, featuring the oleaginous Stuart Hall, or Granada Reports on ITV. No contest. Granada … Continue readingGroped by an elephant

WHEN I started on the Daily Mail in Manchester in 1978, it soon became obvious that the messengers ruled the roost. Only they were allowed to transfer copy from one department to … Continue readingThree chairs for the editor!

DESPITE my hatred of aeroplanes, a few years ago my reptile-loving better half persuaded me to make the nine-hour flight to Florida so she could take me to the Turtle … Continue readingMan meets manatee

WHEN was the last time you heard someone whistling a merry tune? In my younger days it seemed that every labourer whistled while he worked and some were real virtuosi, … Continue readingWhere have all the whistlers gone?

I HAVE written before about the drinking culture that prevailed on national newspapers in the days when words were scribbled on copy paper and computers were still a distant threat. Great attention … Continue readingTake a break

WRITING my recent Greek travelogue reminded me that in 1982 my first bride and I booked a last-minute holiday to the island of Poros. It was so cheap and basic that you … Continue readingHowling over a Greek dog