Malcolm Barker: Who needs new technology when you've got pen and ink?

MORE then 60 years have gone since I first worked in newspapers. It was a Saturday afternoon job, running copy for the Evening Gazette's man in Whitby, Tom Ashworth, from Whitby Town's Turnbull Ground. Tom occupied the press box and wrote reports in longhand on sheets of squared paper.

These I collected and scurried out of the ground with to telephone to the paper's headquarters in Middlesbrough.

For this the pay was five shillings (25p), which I thought generous,

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for I also got to see Northern League matches free, and the kindly copytakers would apprise me of the latest Middlesbrough score. This information was eagerly sought back at the Turnbull, for a common affliction in Whitby is support for the Boro.

Reflecting on those early days is a reminder of the extraordinary changes experienced during a lifetime. At the Evening Gazette, a boy ran Tom's copy to the subs' room, where it was marked up with a pencil and provided with a headline. Another boy would then run it to the caseroom, where a linotype operator would convert it into lead slugs.

These would be locked in a forme, a metal frame the size and shape of a page. A flexible mould of this, known as a flong, went to the foundry, where a semi-circular metal plate was cast. This was bolted to a rotary press, inked, and its image transferred, thump, thump, to newsprint. Eventually, Tom's report would be back in Whitby on the printed page, and silent crowds gathered in Station Square at around 6.30pm would close in on the red van that had brought the Evening Gazette sports final over the moors.

This process will seem primitive beyond belief to today's newspapermen and women. Nowadays, copy may pass from originator to printing plate without encountering paper.

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The onrush of new technology in all forms of communication over the

last six decades has been like a tidal wave, sweeping on inexorably, and leaving those who do not keep abreast of the surge high and dry. Increasingly, those reluctant to do business on the net, whether for banking, booking a flight or securing a theatre seat, are being marginalised. This is a new form of deprivation. There is even talk of ending payment by cheque.

I can work a computer as a word processor, and think it a great improvement on a typewriter, mainly for the blessing of the "insert" key. I can manage e-mails and attachments, which are a much easier way of transmitting copy then running to a telephone with sheets of paper. I can Google, but texting, blogging, twittering and Facebooking surpass all understanding. This does not matter. Despite the incredulity of grandchildren, it is quite possible to live without them. Frustration and anger does set in, however, when attempting to operate newly-acquired equipment.

Sometimes, however, new technology fails. We acquired a British Gas boiler in 2008, the old cast-iron affair that came with the house some 30 years ago having at last expired, and were assured the new model would be economical and reliable. Then, in January, when temperatures plummeted, it just packed up and, to our alarm, started flashing a warning at its little window. British Gas could not respond quickly to

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our SOS. We told a friend at Robin Hood's Bay of our plight, and he said he had had the same problem.

All would be well, he assured us, if we went out in the snow with kettles of hot water, and poured them on the pipe from which the boiler expelled vapour. We were incredulous, but tried it anyway, and, yes, it worked. Anecdotal evidence is that many owners of condensing boilers had the same problem. It seems a pity that, in selling their boilers, British Gas did not warn that they were liable to freeze up when most needed.

Experiences like this have yielded a useful lesson. Writing a letter of complaint is a good idea. Companies do not seem accustomed to letters. They are probably passed round "paperless" offices with incredulity, perhaps even alarm.

Companies are free with their e-mail addresses and telephone numbers (especially those for which we have to pay to make the call) but less forthcoming with addresses.

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Getting one is worth the trouble, and it is even better if you can

mange to discover the name of the boss and address your letter to him or her. Its arrival may cause awe and dismay. Even so, experience shows that replies are carefully considered, usually reasonable, and

sometimes offer generous compensation. A recent complaint about a

single unsatisfactory sock produced six new pairs. A credit card company withdrew its penalty for late payment delayed in the post.

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This is somehow reassuring. Despite all the wonders of the modern age, writing on paper is just as capable of getting a message through as it was for Tom Ashworth in the Turnbull Ground press box all those years ago.

Malcolm Barker is a former editor of the Yorkshire Evening Post.