My time as a journalist in Basildon was not all politics and crime, although I did spend a lot of time in the council chamber and the magistrates’ courts. The Arts Centre, just off the town square, was a cultural centre for the district and, as well as hosting concerts and professional entertainment, it providedContinue reading “Tears of sorrow for a Welshman in exile”
Tag Archives: Basildon
Dipping my toes in the murky waters of politics
When I returned to my desk on that mid-November Monday, following the funeral of my last grandparent, I was determined to throw myself into my work and become part of the Basildon community (although to do that fully I would need to wait until I was allocated a flat). Basildon was born out of theContinue reading “Dipping my toes in the murky waters of politics”
Death comes too close for comfort
Dealing with death becomes a part of life for many journalists, especially those working on regional dailies or weeklies when the people involved are part of their community. Whether it is a case of natural death, by old age or a long-term illness, or sudden death by accident or design (a house fire or fallContinue reading “Death comes too close for comfort”
Knock! Knock! Who’s there?
DOORSTEPPING – we’ve all heard about it. A politician or an entertainment celebrity is alleged to have done something (cheated on the wife; fiddled their taxes; taken a bribe) and members of the press are on their doorstep waiting for them to step outside and face a string of questions and a barrage of cameraContinue reading “Knock! Knock! Who’s there?”
Up in court on my first day in this Brave New Town
At 8.30am on Monday, 9th October, 1972, I entered a Brave New World – Basildon. Although that comparison to Aldous Huxley’s sci-fi classic would cast me in the role of the Savage whereas I felt I was the explorer in a concrete jungle. The drive from Burnham-on-Crouch, where I was living in a rented caravanContinue reading “Up in court on my first day in this Brave New Town”
A fine weekend in the country
Though I say it myself my memory is quite good, short-term and long-term. The long-term memory, in particular, is normally excellent, even down to what I wore on a particular day. There is one foggy area, however, and that deals with the weekend from Friday, 6 October, 1972, up to 8.30am on Monday, 9 0ctober,Continue reading “A fine weekend in the country”
Time to take flight to the Lost Lands
Once I had got my breath back, following the phone call which set me on a new path, I realised I had a lot to do and just four weeks to get it done. I got the call on Friday, 8 September and I was due to start on Monday, 9 October. In between IContinue reading “Time to take flight to the Lost Lands”
Looking ahead the only way is Essex
Despite finding my desire to travel to foreign lands effectively blocked, I still had itchy feet and wanted to break out of my little bubble and see, at least, a new part of this country we call the United Kingdom. Despite the myth that all journalists yearned to work on Fleet Street (a real streetContinue reading “Looking ahead the only way is Essex”
Robin's Nest 