I first read the Manchester Guardian in 1947 when I started work. This, my first job on leaving my secondary modern school in Norwich, was as a trainee signwriter. My first boss, with the glorious name of Elvin Cuthbert, was a dedicated Guardian reader. He bombarded me with articles, which I read initially with curiosity and soon with appreciation.
Cuthbert had fought in the Somme and a bullet that would have struck his heart was deflected by the billycan round his neck.
When not reading the Guardian, our backs were bent over the signwriting bench making signs for Billy Graham and other evangelical missions to England. Cuthbert championed the Guardian’s approach to culture and its bringing a broad spectrum of music, art and literature to everyone in England.
Many years later in 2008, living in Sydney, I have caught up with The Guardian Weekly. I particularly enjoy What I am really thinking and Nature watch, which reminds me of my Norfolk. The editorials too always have a great clarity of overview. I particularly like the double-page spread of photos that are beautifully chosen and edited. I know that Elvin Cuthbert would be very proud of me, as I regularly pore over The Guardian Weekly.
At the age of 85, I use the Weekly’s stimulating articles for my PhD studies at the University of Sydney.
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