In early 1984 my partner and I first travelled to the UK from New Zealand. It was a time of great social bitterness with the miners’ strike in full swing and Margaret Thatcher going on about the “enemy within”. I was struck by the chasm in the coverage between the various newspapers. The Guardian was the only one that seemed to see the humanity of the miners and report objectively of their concerns and the issues involved.
I was intrigued as to why this was so and journeyed to the Guardian HQ in Farringdon Road; I was told all about the Scott Trust and given an explanatory brochure. Thus began a lifelong love affair with a paper that I still get as the Weekly. I joke to friends that if you ever want to know what is happening in northern Botswana or southern Bolivia, then the Guardian is for you.
It is not all grim stuff, though. I remember a Steve Bell cartoon strip about the white South African runner, Zola Budd, who gained UK citizenship in world-record time. It was called ‘Notta Bleck and her coach Wyatt Zonly’. I still chuckle at that and the humour and wit continues.
My favourite parts of the paper: the global overview in the World Roundup snippets, the fascinating photos in Eyewitnessed, the drilled-down detail of the Review article and the enjoyable quirkiness of Dispatches. Thank you all, for your courage and commitment.
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