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The Heald Report . . .
Number 4 JULY 2003
Living in a particularly beautiful part of
Cornwall is completely wonderful and exciting
- if you don't believe me check out the two page spread I did for the Tatler last
month. However it is a problem sometimes convincing metropolitan London editors
in particular that you haven't retired and taken to gardening, water colours and
the Rural District Council.
Last week, despite labouring panic-stricken to
finish the first complete draft of my village cricket book I thought it politic
to nip up to town for a couple of parties - one was the Ritz's annual media bash
and the other a significant birthday party for Ion Trewin, my long standing
friend and editor at the Times, Hodder and Stoughton and Weidenfeld
and Nicolson. Excellent parties both and I saw lots of old friends and
colleagues. My worry was summed up by John McEntee, the jovial Daily Mail
columnist, who shook me warmly by the hand in the Ritz's Italian garden and said
with an air of bewilderment, "But I thought you were in the
country"?"
I replied, slightly rattily, that I did now live
250 miles to the south-west but that I would catch the sleeper from Paddington
at midnight and be back at my desk by 7 the following morning. Not a problem. He
seemed surprised as did others. With e-mail, Ryanair to Newquay, the train and
motor-ways I don't feel I live in outer space but this is not a belief
universally shared. Disconcerting, as I prepare for next week's ferry to France
which leaves from Plymouth, forty-five minutes away. Three travel pieces and a
wedding. The sort of busman's holiday which is an enjoyable necessity in the
life of the freelance writer. When I lived in London incidentally it took at
least twice as long to drive to the nearest ferryport!
I've also been having a slight problem with a
confusion of identity. A friend has just sent a cutting from the Australian
which reports on the annual convention of the international obituarists meeting
in New Mexico recently. A highlighted quote in the article says, "The
mother of British Obituarist Tim Heald says 'You get a better class of death in
the Times!". My Australian friend has ringed the words "British
Obituarist" and scribbled in the question "Is this what you are?"
I have no real answer to this but it does reflect the growing desire to stuff
everyone into an easily identifiable pigeon-hole and keep them there.
I was brought up to believe that professional
writing was a speciality in itself. A writer is a writer is a writer and if so
it should be possible to turn your ability to produce words in a number of
different areas. I have no problem with the idea of writing crime novels,
cricket books, biographies, obituaries and much else besides. When critics say
that I must focus more I protest that I am focussing on words and that is more
than enough focus in itself.
Still, must rush. Tomorrow I am guest of honour
at the thirtieth anniversary celebrations of the local cricket club and on
Monday morning the bank manager comes calling. That should induce focus!
Tim Heald
July 2003
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