Kate Moore - You Couldnt Make It Up...!: Unpublished Letters to The Daily Telegraph

UNPUBLISHED LETTERS
TO

EDITED BY KATE MOORE

Journalists from all walks of life must accept that the job comes with inherent uncertainties. Indeed, for many of us that is what makes the work exciting. During the seven years that I have been at The Daily Telegraph, two elections and a referendum have had seasoned political commentators watching with bated breath. A billionaire-turned-reality-television-star has risen to occupy one of the most powerful political positions in the world; tensions in China and the Middle East have simmered, flared and occasionally boiled over. In Britain, the periods between parliamentary sittings - what is still occasionally known as the silly season - have often been scant on actual silliness.

Never, though, has a year taken quite so dramatic a turn. The arrival of Covid-19 to these shores forced the newspaper, like every business and every individual in the country, to react. Our offices became virtually deserted, with only the occasional stalwart editor or post-room employee to be seen at large. The rest of us turned to our laptops and set up shop wherever we found ourselves. All the time we were aware of the fact that, for a sizeable swathe of our readership, we would become a point of contact: a way of signalling to the world that weeks and months of isolation had not dented that peculiarly British spirit of good humour, quick thinking and stubborn practicality. So it was that we received regular updates on the state of peoples allotments; tales of virtual cocktail parties hosted via Skype, and a slew of alternatives to the now-discouraged handshake (the Indian namaste and the sci-fi Vulcan salute being just two of the most popular suggestions). Celebrity-watching gave way to backyard nature-spotting, while linguists passed the time devising neologisms - zeeting for a meeting hosted by Zoom - and pondering Covid-induced contortions of existing phrases (why does one say face mask but not leg trousers?).

There was sadness, and mounting anger, as the extent of our governments miscalculations came to light; but there was humour too - some of it mordant, much of it absurd, all of it a reaction to living in extraordinary times and under restrictions only previously enforced in periods of all-out war. We received letters from readers thinking of putting their houses on the market so that family members could book a viewing without fear of sanction; a parable of political dysfunction drawn from shopping in Ikea, and spirited rebuttals to the over-opinionated celebrities who found themselves deprived of their favourite stage, the red carpet. While many did their utmost to abide by official guidance on social distancing and support bubbles (is a pregnant friend one person, or two?), others focused on the more recognisable aspects of British life. No year would be complete, after all, without some drama within the Royal family, or - more recently - some frantic tussle over our relations with the European Union. As the countrys attention moved from Brexit to Megxit and viewers grappled with a television schedule devoid of sport or soap, Telegraph readers have kept looking for the bright (or at least the ridiculous) side to every story.

A journalistic day is usually punctuated by conferences and the noise of distant, ringing telephones. In the new-found quiet, the voices of our readers have proved more valuable than ever. Each tale of self-directed VE-Day celebrations, in-house fitness regimes and garden staycations served as a little fillip to our spirits as we rifled through our inboxes. I must thank Christopher Howse, the Letters Desk editor, for his steady hand on the tiller throughout; Richard Murray for casting his lawyerly eye over everything; Matt for his sublime cover illustration; Melissa Hookway, Joe Hallsworth and Nicky Hill of Quarto for mapping out the route to publication. Most of all, though, I must thank the Telegraphs correspondents, for providing me and so many others with such excellent company throughout.

You are not alone.

Kate Moore

London SW1