Trevor Foster - do many York residents known of this Bradford man?

Actually, he's originally from Wales, but he's such a great man, I forgive him his unforgotten love of leeks.

I know the man well. He was an inspirational player for Bradford Northern, its name before Rupert Murdoch's bull-ish attachment to animals and money took over. I was proud to be among those celebrating Trevor's 80-odd years of unselfish commitment to folk, when Bradford gave him the key to the city last week. He deserved it all and he's an amazing 'father' for them.

Strange, Linda Lee Potter, that staunch worshipper of Bradford, was nowhere to be found. If she had been, he'd have given her short shrift. I'm sure you'd have done so too, had she spoken about York in the same varicose vein.

In fact, so stupefied was I about the aforementioned 'lady' (and as Bradford was my birthplace I use the term loosely), I had to bring it up with my old pal and screen partner, Judith Stamper. Blimey, it was good to see her again - she's like a spoonful of vanilla yoghurt after a rich chocolate brownie. You know, refreshing and practical. You'll see me meeting up with her next week (if you watch Look North that is, and of course, you should!). We got through six tapes of filmed chat. Well, there was a lot to catch up on... and even more to remember.

The one over-riding memory of us presenting together has to be Judith's interview with the Beast of Bolsover, Denis Skinner. There was some story which needed a quiet, softly spoken, sensitive Labour MP to discuss and enlighten the viewer. So, off Judith went into her first question, thinking Newsnight and Question Time while I was contemplating what would be the best goal on Match Of The Day.

Suddenly, her microphone failed and the television gallery which controls all that you see - or does not control, as the case may be - exploded into pandemonium. Meanwhile, cheery Mr Skinner was, I think, heard to claim that the BBC had conspired to deny his views any exposure.

It was so early in my television career, I didn't know what to do to help.

I remember sitting there stupefied in view of the camera, like some onlooker trying to chair a parish council meeting where the invited guests were Margaret Thatcher and Billy Connolly. And all while the studio manager crawled along the floor with a replacement microphone (supposedly out of shot), clunking and clicking towards Judith.

Oh dear, that was one instance when it certainly wasn't all right on the night ... Of course, you have to watch your Ps and Qs now, because Judith is a literary person at university.

She's got a proper job lecturing fresh faces about the bizarre old world of the media, whereas I went to a wretched job counting paper clips for the Rugby League Supremo, and then returned to the bizarre old world of the media! Performing seal, that's me.

23/04/99

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.