staying on at the paper, his boss told him that he should spend
some time with Tuttle and Grayson, who would show him the rudiments
of the craft. Up to then he had been doing mostly odd jobs. Mr
Elliott explained to him that Richard Tuttle and Ralph Grayson were
the senior staff reporters.
-Does that mean that they are in
charge of the news?
-No, it bloody well does not,
and don’t let them tell you otherwise.
Mr Elliott assured him that he
would learn a lot from the senior reporters, who had a many years
experience between them. They would be great fun to work with, he
said. He led Matthew to the doorway of their office from where he
made rudimentary introductions and left rather hurriedly. It seemed
that Mr Elliott was not entirely comfortable in the presence of
these two.
Ralph Grayson looked at the new
boy and grunted with disgust. Ralph was a tall spidery man in a
tweed jacket with elbow patches. He had greasy dark hair and what
remained of it on top was roughly combed over the bald patches. His
face was long and thin, but it seemed that the top and bottom did
not match, the high forehead was so narrow and the powerful jaw so
pronounced. It was fascinating to see, a face composed of features
that were ordinary in themselves but combined to make something so
ugly. Matthew had to will himself not to look so directly at Ralph
as to stare, without actually avoiding looking at him: it was an
effort.
Richard seemed quite ordinary in
comparison: short grey hair, slightly paunchy, a bit of a beard and
reading glasses pushed well down a broad nose.
-Don’t expect us to waste our
time showing you anything, were Ralph’s first words, and don’t get
in my way. That ass Elliott told us to expect you, but I don’t
suppose you will stay around very long. Most of them don’t. In too
much of a hurry to land a job in radio, or one of the nationals, or
maybe television. Anything they can get that doesn’t require more
than a vague grasp of the English language. If they fail at that,
some of them even leave to get proper jobs – working for a living,
ugh. I suppose you have ambitions to work in television.
He didn’t wait for an answer to
this, but continued.
-Anyway, I have never liked
being around children and please don’t expect me to make an
exception in your case. In particular do not expect me to correct
your grammar, syntax or spelling; although in all fairness I should
warn you not to rely on our fool of an editor in that respect
either. In fact probably you should avoid writing anything so far
as that’s possible, as your likely to embarrass yourself. The best
advice I can give you, as long as you’re here; observe, reflect,
and be silent.
-Richard grinned at Matthew and
offered his hand.
-Welcome, lad to the National
Union of Journalists, Trappist monk section, he said.
***
It wasn’t an auspicious start,
but soon Matthew decided that he might make a go of being a local
newspaperman. He quickly got used to the slow rhythms of Richard’s
soft Pennine accent and the harsher tones of Ralph’s acidic version
of BBC English. It was easy to follow Ralph’s instruction to be
quiet around these two: they seemed to have so much to say, not
about the world as it should be, but the world as it was. He felt
dull and stupid in comparison. For the first time (perhaps because
no one joked about it) he was conscious of feeling shamed by his
own brutal Leeds accent, rather than being aggressively defensive
of it.
Matthew found a one person flat
to rent, that was not too expensive, but for him as for his
friends, life centred on the house at Oakland Ridge.
As soon as the house was fixed
up enough for Patricia not to absolutely prohibit visitors, David
and his wife began to host social evenings for the ever growing
circle of friends and people who it would be useful for David to
know. As an old friend of the family, Matthew had a standing
invite. He joked that he was there to prove that the happy couple
had lived
some time with Tuttle and Grayson, who would show him the rudiments
of the craft. Up to then he had been doing mostly odd jobs. Mr
Elliott explained to him that Richard Tuttle and Ralph Grayson were
the senior staff reporters.
-Does that mean that they are in
charge of the news?
-No, it bloody well does not,
and don’t let them tell you otherwise.
Mr Elliott assured him that he
would learn a lot from the senior reporters, who had a many years
experience between them. They would be great fun to work with, he
said. He led Matthew to the doorway of their office from where he
made rudimentary introductions and left rather hurriedly. It seemed
that Mr Elliott was not entirely comfortable in the presence of
these two.
Ralph Grayson looked at the new
boy and grunted with disgust. Ralph was a tall spidery man in a
tweed jacket with elbow patches. He had greasy dark hair and what
remained of it on top was roughly combed over the bald patches. His
face was long and thin, but it seemed that the top and bottom did
not match, the high forehead was so narrow and the powerful jaw so
pronounced. It was fascinating to see, a face composed of features
that were ordinary in themselves but combined to make something so
ugly. Matthew had to will himself not to look so directly at Ralph
as to stare, without actually avoiding looking at him: it was an
effort.
Richard seemed quite ordinary in
comparison: short grey hair, slightly paunchy, a bit of a beard and
reading glasses pushed well down a broad nose.
-Don’t expect us to waste our
time showing you anything, were Ralph’s first words, and don’t get
in my way. That ass Elliott told us to expect you, but I don’t
suppose you will stay around very long. Most of them don’t. In too
much of a hurry to land a job in radio, or one of the nationals, or
maybe television. Anything they can get that doesn’t require more
than a vague grasp of the English language. If they fail at that,
some of them even leave to get proper jobs – working for a living,
ugh. I suppose you have ambitions to work in television.
He didn’t wait for an answer to
this, but continued.
-Anyway, I have never liked
being around children and please don’t expect me to make an
exception in your case. In particular do not expect me to correct
your grammar, syntax or spelling; although in all fairness I should
warn you not to rely on our fool of an editor in that respect
either. In fact probably you should avoid writing anything so far
as that’s possible, as your likely to embarrass yourself. The best
advice I can give you, as long as you’re here; observe, reflect,
and be silent.
-Richard grinned at Matthew and
offered his hand.
-Welcome, lad to the National
Union of Journalists, Trappist monk section, he said.
***
It wasn’t an auspicious start,
but soon Matthew decided that he might make a go of being a local
newspaperman. He quickly got used to the slow rhythms of Richard’s
soft Pennine accent and the harsher tones of Ralph’s acidic version
of BBC English. It was easy to follow Ralph’s instruction to be
quiet around these two: they seemed to have so much to say, not
about the world as it should be, but the world as it was. He felt
dull and stupid in comparison. For the first time (perhaps because
no one joked about it) he was conscious of feeling shamed by his
own brutal Leeds accent, rather than being aggressively defensive
of it.
Matthew found a one person flat
to rent, that was not too expensive, but for him as for his
friends, life centred on the house at Oakland Ridge.
As soon as the house was fixed
up enough for Patricia not to absolutely prohibit visitors, David
and his wife began to host social evenings for the ever growing
circle of friends and people who it would be useful for David to
know. As an old friend of the family, Matthew had a standing
invite. He joked that he was there to prove that the happy couple
had lived
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