Farewell to former editor as he heads north to befriend Delia Smith

I love a leaving do don’t you?

This week we said goodbye to our editor Nigel who has gone to work in Norwich – I suspect he’ll have the added advantage of getting friendly with Delia Smith.

Anyway we had a buffet (no quiche but a selection of hot samosas instead) and a couple of sherries in the Lord Nelson to mark the occasion.

Speeches were made and hands shaken.

I was particularly amused by the great tradition in the newspaper industry of making a special front page. I have a couple on my wall in my miniature-second-bedroom-cum-study in my small Felixstowe flat with sea views (distant).


You may also want to watch:


Of course, the occasion got me thinking about myself – though I rarely need an excuse – and all the wonderful leaving do’s I have had from all those bizarre jobs I have done over the years.

My first ever was from Harrods where everyone I worked with bought me moisturizer and exfoliant – perhaps they thought I had bad skin – and some cut glass crystal wear which I’ve still got.

Most Read

Someone also gave me a long cigarette holder which I thought odd at the time but has since come in handy fancy dress-wise.

Anyway, after speeches were made – I think they asked me to remember them when I was famous – we popped along to the Duke of Gloucester, a pub on Sloane Street – I wonder if it is still there – for a few drinks. I don’t remember much after that apart from an overriding sense of relief.

Incidentally, it was during my time at Harrods I became interested in journalism – partly because I used to serve a very pleasant lady who Lord Lucan visited the night he disappeared.

A few years later I was on the Isle of Man, where I worked in international banking where I lost so much money on a currency deal I had to be taken aside and asked if I had muddled up Hong Kong dollars and Turkish Lira.

In the end I knew my future needed consideration after I fell out with a client who was a UN ambassador or something and wanted to call me back as he was having lunch on his yacht and I said that wouldn’t be convenient and could he tell me his mother’s maiden name or I shall put him on hold to Handel’s music for the royal fireworks.

By the time I left that job – they gave me the slightly odd combination of a hairbrush and a bottle of port – it was everyone else who displayed an overriding sense of relief.

Become a Supporter

This newspaper has been a central part of community life for many years. Our industry faces testing times, which is why we're asking for your support. Every contribution will help us continue to produce local journalism that makes a measurable difference to our community.

Become a Supporter