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My hopes, dreams and ambitions for journalism

Today I’m taking my first steps towards a new career – something I really should have done quite a long time ago in fact – with my first evening of lectures at City University for an MA in Political Journalism.

The summer has given me plenty of time to read around my subject and I feel that as a new student, I’m already developing a worthy critique in my head of today’s journalism and its strengths, opportunities and dynamism, but also its weaknesses, frustrations and, in some cases, lazy and shoddy misreporting. The excellent Flat Earth News by Nick Davies has been a good starting point and I’d highly recommend it to anyone who wants to get a better idea of why journalism isn’t working as it should. And it should work better, because there’s an awful lot going on out there which needs to be taken note of by journalists and which is in danger of slipping away from public consciousness.

So why am I doing this? For the last six years, since my undergraduate degree, I have, in the main, been working in various civil service and public sector communications roles which, although they’ve developed my basic skills in writing good copy and finding stories, I’ve never been responsible in that time for any public or externally facing communication. My interests have always been more around speaking to a wider audience and that passion for the drama of politics and a long desired professional aspiration to journalism have never once waned. Right now seemed an opportune moment to embark on a new career once it became clear that British politics was experiencing a moderate earthquake – of which I’m sure the aftershocks will be felt for some time. A tired, chaotic government has been swept from power, the two-party system is on the verge of being dismantled, the Liberal Democrats are in government and there’s a wave of unpredictability washing through public life which makes things constantly fascinating for the observer of the British political scene.

So, I’m hoping that in order to help make sense of this brave new world, this Masters will help nurture a strong interest in good quality, investigative journalism that is – dare I say it – ethical, and that I can find a new career in helping to peel off what sometimes seems like increasing layers on, and barriers to the machinery of government. I’m not pretending to speak from some pious lectern on what’s wrong with the world – either in politics or in journalism itself – but I want to be able to do things my way, through a prism of values which might seem lofty or impractical – but hopefully true to myself and with independent, rigorous thought and research.

I am an optimist and an idealist by nature and I hope that, if you were to ask me, in five years time ‘where have your ideals and principles gone?’, you won’t witness my detached soul scuttling off down the road to the world of sensationalist celebrity gossip and the sort of pseudo-journalism I don’t think I’ll ever be interested in – let alone be any good at!

Keep following me on this blog, which, I’m advised, needs to be updated at least two or three times a week. I’ve had a blog since 2007 and I don’t think I’ve ever got anywhere near close to that sort of regularity of posting, but hope that over the next year at least, I can promise some occasionally interesting, insightful and thought-provoking articles. And, if you’re a potential future employer or you run a political or news website and you like what you read, please do get in touch.

So, pull up a chair and we’ll have a nice cup of tea as we put the world to rights.

New York, Saturday 5 June 2004

Weather: cloudy but fair.

Sitting in a branch of Wetherspoons at Heathrow's Terminal 4 eating a £5.99 'traditional breakfast' - trying to relax, with a cup of Tetley's tea. This will be my last taste of British culture for five weeks - quite literally.

There is something reassuringly grim about British airports - the staff working in the bars, cafes and overpriced designer shops are no more friendly or personable than anywhere else. Terminal 4 is the newest of all the Heathrow Airport termini but it's style seems refreshingly bland and quite unlike its European or American counterparts. No glamour, no frills, no inspiring architecture. But, you bet you can find an absurdly expensive perfurmery or a Sunglass Hut that boasts of tax-free prices.

I feel ridiculously nervous and tense, because I hardly got a wink of sleep last night. My erstwhile housemate had been out drinking until the early hours, and upon stumbling back home with his new 'companion', continued his hedonistic pleasure with my supplies of Irish whiskey and Bombay Sapphire. I woke up late for my flight, with my Dad on the doorstep, ready to drive me to the airport, wondering why I haven't showered or dressed yet. The bathroom graphically displays the regurgitated evidence of last night's partying, so I decide against it and opt for a quick bath instead. So, after my panicked start to the day, you can see why I'm not exactly in the best frame of mind, and I don't even look back to wave goodbye to Dad, Molly and Mary as I go through security in to the departures area. This is the first time I've flown by myself - I'm 21 and looking forward to another 'liberating' experience, which I'm supposed to enjoy. Perhaps it's the coldness and systematic procedure of the airport that makes me feel so close to 'the edge'.

Ah well, give it a few more gins once I get on the plane and I'll be fine...

10:00 PM - Gershwin Hotel, 7 East 27th Street, New York. Weather, cloudy but fair. Rained this evening.

Well, here I am. Arrived in John F Kennedy airport at 4:00pm, surprisingly earlier than I expected. Went through the usual bureaucracy you have to go through when coming to the US, so that I can check I'm not a terrorist, communist, or a homosexual (oh, hold on...). Headed straight to the SuperShuttle, which is somewhat more low-key than its brandname suggests, being more of a glorified Ford Transit. But they're full, and a typically upfront taxi driver quotes me $19 for the ride into town. He actually charges me $33 in the end, but I'm so keen to get to the hotel I don't quibble with him. The ride does include an interesting trip through downtown Manhattan though, so we get a good view of the skyline, Time Square etc.

My hotel, the Gershwin, is quite a funky sort of place, with a retro, Sixties feel and lots of abstract art adorning the walls, and it plays house music in the entrance lobby. I can't imagine anywhere like this in London. We're just a stone's throw from the Empire State Building here, and Macy's department store, the biggest in the world. At ground level it all feels a bit unimposing now that the World Trade Centre is gone.

I meet Dave early in the evening, who joins me on the trip. Dave is from South Wales, and staying in a different hotel prior to beginning the tour proper tomorrow. later, who's closer look at Time Square later - it has an amazing vibe about it, absolutely bustling with life and very exciting. Weaving our way back to my hotel, I'm struck by how filthy the streets are here - perhaps it's because it's the weekend? Or is it that these giant overflowing trash cans still aren't capacious enough to serve the hearty appetites of Americans? I do give London a hard time, but for a supposedly world-class city there's litter strewn all over the streets and a general smell of decay. I suppose that's a sign that this is a living, breathing city which, like London, is a bit rough around the edges. In any case, New Yorkers are wonderfully friendly and seem to go out of their way to help you.

Back at the Gershwin, I am sleeping in a shared domitory, and I arrive to find evidence that it's definitely lived in. I shower and settle down for the night about 10:45pm, only briefly woken by a girl who sneaks in during the night, realises I'm in bed, and then scampers off - "Sorry!". I didn't realise I had the place to myself, though I wake up constantly throughout the night worrying that I'm going to oversleep - again - and miss my tour departure!

Some travel writings

It's about time that some of my travel writings made it to my blog, rather that sit in scrawled ballpoint in a little red Fidel Castro notebook. In the next few weeks I'm hoping to transcribe some of the entries, and maybe, in the style of thelondonpaper's City Boy, embellish them a little. I've also got another trip coming up in a few weeks' time, to Sweden, where I might be able to entertain you with some more thoughts and experiences.

The forthcoming posts will deal with my trip to the US in June 2004 - blimey, that's four years ago, when I was just out of university and making my way in the big wide world. It's not blogging in the true sense of the word, as everything happened a while ago now, but this seems the most appropriate channel for it, rather than letting it get dusty in my box of junk!

Why this election might be won by the bloggers

Guardian blogger Dave Hill has been blogging about the various TV debates, including the most recent Question Time on BBC One.

The problem with the national TV debates has been that the producers have been desperately trying to make the Mayoral contest relevant to people all over the country. But, although the job of Mayor is a highly influential position, with potential hotlines to the Government and the many other perks of being a world-class city leader, it's genuinely not of any interest to the people of Aberystwyth or Aberdeen, Belfast or Bournemouth.

The same situation is apparent in the national press, although Joe Public arguably gets more opportunities to ignore the London coverage when flicking through their copy of the Daily Mail. Put the other way, it would be like people in London being forced to watch televised debates of the Kesgrave Parish Council by-elections every day for a month.

The two-way (at best three-way, if you count Brian Paddick) debates become inherently confrontational as the programmes have to simplify the issues, and broaden their appeal to justify their airtime. Both Johnson and Livingstone had to resort to getting a little nasty with each other on the ITV debate the other night, and even Paddick, often praised for his good nature, told Boris Johnson to "shut up" on Question Time. Not exactly the most Parliamentary of language, is it? Or perhaps a different set of rules applies for candidates who are not bound by the conventions of the House of Commons...

Perhaps that's why this election, more than any other, will be won by the bloggers and other media outlets where TV targets the wrong audiences, and does so in a way which patronises not only the electorate of London, but the poor souls in the provinces who have to be bored to death by our own local politics.