Raymond Briggs - Notes From the Sofa

People are always asking: However did you come to be writing for The Oldie ?

Well, what a question. I honestly cant remember; like everything else in Old Age it is lost in the mists of time. These mists shroud anything from more than six weeks ago, let alone six years. No doubt soon it will be six days, then well be in serious trouble. Now dont get gloomy, Briggs. This is meant to be a light-hearted introduction to a book that is supposed to be humorous.

All I remember is that copies of The Oldie started arriving in the post. I enjoyed looking at them but didnt say thank you as I didnt know who had sent them. Then I heard from the illustrious NAIM ATTALLAH, asking me to come and have lunch with him. I knew his name, of course, but was not sure what he did, other than it was to do with immensely expensive shops in Bond Street jewels, silver and gold stuff, nothing much I was asked to go this address in Frith Street in the heart of wicked Soho such a contrast to the innocence of dear old Wimbledon Park. The whole building was painted black outside and I was shown into a very dark room, also painted black. Naim Attallah and I were the only people in the room and I formed the impression that it was his own house. He had a small gadget on the table like a glasses case (obviously containing an APP, even in those days). Whenever he put his hand on it, a waiter would silently appear and bring in the next course or more wine. Naim said, I think, that he owned The Oldie and casually mentioned that it was only losing thirty or forty thousand pounds a month. Huh! Peanuts, I thought, but I didnt say it. I think Ive been to the same place since then and realise now that it is a sort of club, still dark and painted black inside and out.

Naim then went on to suggest that I write for The Oldie ! Blimey! What on earth would I write about? I had done odd bits for respectable papers like the Observer , the Guardian and the Times Ed. Supp ., but they were mostly book reviews, fairly routine stuff. This was much more intimidating.

Still, it was a great honour to be asked to write for a national magazine when you are over seventy years old and a decade or so past retirement age. Furthermore, to be given the freedom to write about anything you like and get paid* for it!

Ye Gods! My cup runneth over. It went all down my trousers yet again.

A new lease of life for an elderly olide! So, ta Attallah! Thank you.

Raymond Briggs

*albeit tuppence hapenny

However, I soon felt less intimidated because of encouragement by the legendary Richard Ingrams. He sent many hand-written notes such as this one in response to a RANT. No! Going great guns!

Trousers watch out!