Coronavirus diary, Sunday 26 July

The first day in work is one of the most important milestones in your life.

Sadly, with Britain in a dire financial state, millions of young people may have to wait a long time, years maybe, for the experience. 

It made me realise how fortunate I have been, having enjoyed a long - over fifty years - working life.

I clearly remember the excitement that dull November day when it started.

At sixteen, after a war-time stop-and-start education - four moves in as many years - I left Cardiff High School to embark on my career, heartened  by the headmaster's note, 'Skinner should do well in journalism'.

After a one penny tram ride from Cathays into Cardiff I caught the push and pull saddle tank steam train for the thirteen minute ride to  Penarth - it takes nearly twice as long today.

Then, a five minute walk to Times House, a misnomer for the surprisingly small Penarth Times.

I was introduced to the workforce - all six of them - the three Pickford brothers, the owners, and two young women who served in the shop, took advertisements and generally ran the place.

There was no 'newsroom', I had a tiny space above the print room. The editor, 'Mr Herbert' had just a few words of advice: 'You won't find news in the office, Mr Skinner. Get out around the town'.

He handed me a small black contacts book - a reporter's bible - with names and addresses of everyone who could provide information, and my diary. The first entry was, 'inquests, police station 2pm'.

I spent the morning walking around the quiet town. It was 1942, war time, and the pier was closed.

I called at the police station (that become a daily ritual), and I had a one-shilling lunch at the  council-run wartime British Restaurant in the Windsor Arcade.

Then off to my first reporting job - two inquests. Two abortion 
cases. An eye opening experience for a naive sixteen year old.

I reported scores of inquests over the following years and found them sad affairs, made even more harrowing for the families by the newspaper reports.

Back at the office, in my eyrie, I wrote my first story, and more deflated than enthusiastic, I left the office, caught the 5.15 train back to Penarth and the normality of home.

A memorable first day at work.