A week into our Guardian subscription and I have a message for the good newspaper folk at the Scott Trust: "You've missed a trick!"
Me and Claire plumped for the pre-October subscription "sale" because we knew it'd save us cash ... and because we love the paper. It's quality, it's fun and it airs opinions that are always carefully thought through and argued. It's so good, in fact, that we plunged all the way in and now have vouchers for every day of the week.
The recent sales pitch that hooked us in was prolonged, intense, colourful and thoroughly credible. But it wasn't without its faults.
And here's why the newspaper sales manager needs a good talking to. Not once in the pitch did he or she flag up the bounteous beauty of picking up a morning paper once again.
With just five editions under my Pepe Jeans belt I've managed to enjoy more early morning birdsong than even that time in the mid-80s when Beast and Browny suggested: "Let's spend a couple of nights kipping under canvas in the foothills of Pen-y-ghent - either side of torturing ourselves with the Three Peaks Walk."
This season's black 7am autumn skies are necklaced by seafront streetlights around Swansea Bay. Even better, at that time the world hasn't yet been sullied afresh by humankind in the gas-guzzlers that plummet down Wimmerfield Drive towards another day of office oblivion.
So thanks, Guardian, for enlivening each day with nature, a refreshing complement to your prose and pictures. But do yourselves a favour before the next big sales push ... send the subscription marketeers on a camping weekend somewhere remote.
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Once again you have found a positive spin to what I thought a miserable task. Our newsagent recently started delivering our Guardian/Observer at 9.30 instead of the usual 7.05 prompt. This led to me cancelling the delivery in the vain hope of moving to a more amenable agent. I was thwarted however as there are currently no other newsagents who deliver in our area!
ReplyDeleteWe're not in the sticks here but in leafy suburbia and I find it amazing that I now have to leave the house at an uncivilised hour to get my paper from the local Shell garage.
I drive, however, not walk but I will be interested if you're still whistling cheerily when stamping through slush filled streets in the impending dark of January matey.
Incidentally, I blame bloody Tesco for all this - diminishing the local shops and out competing all comers. They're evil and soon we'll have no other choice left.