You have to smile, and spread the word, when things like this happen.
Me, in the Guardian. And what’s more, also in the “real” paper itself! (On the Letters’ page, if you haven’t tumbled …)
Actually, it’s all about my long-term relationship with the paper. I grew up with it and the Observer (now its sister paper). As a young adolescent, I also regularly subscribed to a now defunct news weekly, as well as to a very glossy, up-market science mag called Nova (I think it was) – also now pretty surely defunct.
We weren’t really allowed to be Dennis the Menace sorts in our household. We were encouraged to improve ourselves – not much of “Top of the Tops”; plenty of “Horizon”, “The Waltons” and “Tomorrow’s World” (“Panorama” in its long form, as then it was, we usually escaped as it always clashed with John-Boy!).
So the Guardian of those times was deemed a decently good fit. For the reasons mentioned in today’s piece, alongside plenty of others space didn’t allow.
What I’m really interested in is the concept the paper is now developing around the Membership relationship it’s invented.
Meanwhile, although gently accused of basking in Friday vanity by a stern family member (the piece was posted online yesterday evening), I think “chuffed” better describes how I feel.
At least, on this St Valentine’s Day, for those 14 or 15 minutes they say we all deserve …
Update to this post: just in case you didn’t believe me (!), here’s some (fairly) hot-off-the-press photographic evidence. Handle with care, eh?