DOWN MEMORY LANE

My big break: I was considering a career in journalism, but the rector of Vale of Leven Academy said: “Ye cannae dae it. Naebody fae the Vale gets tae work furra newspaper.” But then, my girlfriend reluctantly announced her pregnancy and I was in a funk. I phoned the proprietor of the Helensburgh and Gareloch Times, whose shapeless six-page newspaper sold only on its nostalgic appeal: The headline typefaces were selected to meet the squeeze demanded by loquacity, or running from ten words into a second deck of two words, with one monochrome picture per edition, taken with a prototype Polaroid camera.
The product of these speculative efforts was committed to a backroom Edwardian Centurette cracked flatbed flying press which only a singing drunk called Rab could cause to work.

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