Did you know, it’s 28 years today since the Financial Times killed one of Britain’s finest poets? They didn’t mean to. It’s just that Gavin Ewart was 79, and they bought him a lunch that involved enough booze to fell an ox
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Despite my gripe about How To Spend It (which I increasingly think is satire at the advertisers' expense) the Weekend FT is marvellous. It will last me most of this week.
I wonder if this episode had the same effect on the booze-drenched old-white-posh-bloke dominated nature of the print press? (That said, I'm not sure what replaced it is appreciably better or more meaningfully diverse)
Larkin was fit only for squibs in his final alcoholic years, but they were good squibs. He also did a jolly tribute to Charles Causley during that time.
I used to work at Reuters in Fleet Street at same time and the prodigious drinking astonished me then. Usual to find after lunch someone sleeping head on keyboard slobbering and snoring away after a session in the Cheshire Cheese or El Vino’s.
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I used to work at Reuters in Fleet Street at same time and the prodigious drinking astonished me then. Usual to find after lunch someone sleeping head on keyboard slobbering and snoring away after a session in the Cheshire Cheese or El Vino’s.