This week and for the next 16 weeks I have taken up temporary residence in Brighton, East Sussex.
I’m here to do a journalist course at Brighton Journalist Works.
Monday, first day I was scared to death.
The ‘fail’ word was mentioned too many times.
Tuesday, I took Valium and chilled my way through the day.
Wednesday, I bought a copy of The Argus as it too was mentioned so many times in class.
Thursday, I’m writing about it.
When I purchased the paper, I hadn’t got my glasses on. 70p for 40 pages!
Hey this is Brighton, and Hove (I’ve now been told).
Isn’t Brighton the place to be?
It shocked me to see how thin newspapers are becoming.
As I laid in my bed this morning I thought of all the uses of the humble newspaper, other than the news.
Back in my day (my favourite saying now I am officially over 21), I can remember that you wrapped your fish and chips up in it.
In our house when the toilet roll ran out the old newspaper got torn into squares and hung on string in the toilet.
Any gaping hole was filled with stuffed newspaper to stop the draft.
It went on the floor ready to catch the excess paste when mum was wall-papering the front room again.
Every time we got a new dog the kitchen floor would be littered with it to catch those puppy mishaps.
The obvious use it was fire lighting material.
As I embark on my journey as a journalist I would love to contribute to the fattening of the newspaper.
For those of you who read this please let me know your stories of our faithful old newspaper who has provided us with news since 1609.
What did you do with your newspaper?
Let me know.