Write for My Supper

It was the early 1960s. The era of The Beatles Rolling Stones Flower Power Teddy Boys and beehive hairstyles. A time long before the advent of computers and mobile phones when the local newspaper office resounded to the clattering din of reporters tapping furiously away on large Imperial typewriters. A time when the men reporters would roar off on their motorbikes to cover stories. For newspaper journalism was still largely a mans world. From an early age I had nurtured a longing to become a reporter and with my dreams to keep me going a stroke of luck and much hard work I was lucky enough to achieve my ambition. This is a mainly light hearted account of how as a young fresh faced girl not long out of school I entered this male dominated terrain.