It all began with Dad. He was already an avid Guardian reader when it was still The Manchester Guardian. But oh boy, did he get upset when that clearcut indication of a North of England pedigree was unceremoniously dropped. What treachery!
When at the tender age of 13 I started doing a paper round for the local newsagent, I was deeply shocked to discover that hardly any of the households I was supplying were reading the “right” paper. Later, when I took a job lecturing in English Studies at a German university, The Guardian kept me – as an expat – excellently informed about what was going on in the country whose language, literature and culture I was teaching.
Nowadays, as an unreconstructed and unapologetic longtime subscriber to The Guardian Weekly, I continue to admire the courageous investigative journalism and the sheer reasonable tone of its reporters: more important than ever in an age where fake news and antisocial media exert such a mesmeric pull on so many.
I’m pleased to say that my own son is a loyal reader of The Guardian online. The family tradition goes on.
