In 1940 my father, a patriotic Lancastrian, acquired a position as a senior pharmacist in Sheffield. This was a significant cultural shift, as allegiance to the red or white rose was still important to one’s self-image.
Predictably, the Manchester Guardian appeared daily through our letterbox, so my introduction to newspapers was biased toward all matters west of the Pennines.
After qualifying in medicine at Sheffield University, I worked in several overseas countries. Consequently it was now my turn to seek a reliable source of news. Like father, like son: the descendant of the Manchester Guardian was chosen.
In the early 60s the Weekly airmail edition was made from lightweight paper and it arrived promptly at the hospital gatehouse on Fridays, where it was collected by our small Bahamian mongrel dog whose teethmarks sometimes blurred the small print. Since then we have received the Weekly in Canada, the West Indies, Australia and now back in Yorkshire. It has almost become a sacred document that one is reluctant to throw away: a dilemma resolved by leaving past editions in the waiting rooms of doctors, dentists and barbers.
The Guardian Weekly continues to enrich our lives, keep us abreast of global affairs and entertain us with its unrivalled coverage of today’s complex, sometimes confusing and ever-changing world.
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