All in a day’s work

IT wasn’t until about 10.30 pm, when I was in a taxi back from the office, that it sunk in. The Queen’s death was being sombrely discussed over the car radio and her picture was on every rain-splattered bus stop that we passed. “This has been the most surreal day of my life,” I suddenly thought.

I’m a feature writer on the Saturday edition of the i newspaper iweekend, and the day had started like any other Thursday in the office. I had arrived into work at 10.00 am, collecting a coffee from the café outside, and settled down to write the piece I was working on for that Saturday. By 11.00 am I had a hint of something strange going on. Around me, staff were disappearing into meeting rooms and I could have sworn others were speaking in hushed tones. Eventually my editor pulled me aside and said we were ramping up preparations for the Queen’s death. We discussed it as though she might pass away in a few weeks’ time, but no sooner had I gone back to my desk, the large TV screens dotted around our office walls showed the nowfamous note being passed around parliament.

From that point on, we were in limbo. I was tasked with preparing picture spreads of the Queen just in case she did die, but at the same time, I had to continue with my normal workload so that we’d have full pages either way. I felt frenzied juggling the two, not knowing which version of the paper we’d end up with.

When the news of her passing broke at 18.30, the time I usually head home, there was a momentary stillness in the office before it became frenetic. Phones rang, people dashed from one end of the office to the other, others frantically tapped at keyboards. My own work was a blur of writing reflections on the Queen’s life, doing picture captions, updating up-in-the-air TV schedules, and generally jumping from task to task to help out with the following day’s paper. Around 8.00 pm, 20 takeaway pizzas arrived – I didn’t realise I hadn’t eaten all day until I smelt them – and we all shovelled down slices and continued working until the paper was finally sent to the printers just after 10.00 pm.

Back in my flat, I collapsed on the sofa, both tired and wired, knowing that I’d have to be in early and do it all again tomorrow.

Anna Bonet

Coninued from page 34 took three more ‘A’ Levels , including Latin, and achieved three more As. Six As in total, surely a record which will never be broken. He went up to New College, Oxford to study History followed by a PGCE at London University Institute of Education.

Spending a lovely afternoon in our garden we skipped our delightful way down Nostalgia Avenue and Memory Lane.We exchanged memories of past Latin lessons and I mentioned my Latin assistant, the delightfully eccentric Jim Kempster. One stood out. Jim insisted on putting XXII on his house door and the post Office insisted on not delivering his post; I believe the GPO won.

I always re-read our superb magazine a number of times – such a precious link –and select the article which impressed me most The July edition’s was the obituaries. They reminded me of Matthew 5:15 in which he advises against ‘hiding one’s light under a bushel’. I interpret this as not letting others know about our beliefs and talents. This thought was prompted by the very fine obituaries to Christine Hazle and Andrew Krasinski. They were my colleagues for more than twenty years.

I never knew anything about Christine’s artistic talents, her master’s degree taken while teaching full time and her rich life outside the classroom.

I should love to have heard first hand about Andrew’s early life when, at a very young age, he escaped Poland in 1939 just before the Nazi invasion and his travels with his parents in Europe before coming to England. I was completely un- aware of his great interest in Geology and his expertise in calligraphy.

Perhaps we should encourage other Old Almondburians to write about their passions before it’s too late. How about a ‘Hobbies Corner’? On a personal note, I wonder how many birdwatchers are out there.

So as the years roll on, ‘carpe diem’ (not ‘fish of the day’ as one radio comedy programme translated it). That’s one of the great rewards of teaching; the opportunity to encourage young people to make full use of their time and talents.

Let’s vary our traditional ending a little.

CROSSWORD by Hérisson

Entries to the Editor (address/email: back cover) by 30th January 2023. Prize: 12 months’ free OAS membership l The winner of Crossword by Hérisson (July 2022) was Dennis Taylor (1961-69)

Across

1. Individual dancing a tango ran into someone not wanted. (7,3,5)

9. Alternative names for navigate back in stormy sea. (7)

10. Cornish permit? Gulp! (7)

11. Set fire to explosive. Clot is blown away. (6)

12. God exists! Twice! (4)

13. Garland from relaxation? Not sure. (3)

15. Big soldier insect. (5)

18. Typify record – one to Scrooge, shortly. (9)

19. Fibre, upon processing, becomes drug. (9)

20. Lets out lets, heading off. (5)

21. High temperature in Idaho today. (3)

22. “Ladies’ Fingers” from not bad artist. (4)

23. Revises, incorporating 100 decrees. (6)

27. First, I nail it badly. (7)

28. Measure serious score. (7)

29. Choose inert black compound to give heat after retirement. (8,7)

Down

1. Rife, indicated by dangerous practice. (7,4,4)

2. Precipitation in speech, as a rule. (5)

3. Attack, playing some tennis. (5)

4. Revolution for Laos, too. (4)

5. Former pupil jams fixations. (10)

6. Former PM rejoicing with Ruby, maybe. (9)

7. Praises Saul, Ella and I, in error. (9)

8. Showing fear, like a blank page, (2,5,2,1,5)

14. Sick queen providing hat, rising to film man. (10)

16. Bordeaux found here, in quite a variety, holding abstainer at first. (9)

17. Stir retro assembly for a gunman, maybe. (9)

24. Setter, perhaps, with degree and creed. (5)

25. Nothing like cheese! (5)

26. Plant penned by Father Brown. (4)