Angus McGill
Peter Crookston writes: I was a reporter on the Evening Chronicle, Newcastle, in the 1950s when Angus McGill (obituary, Oct 19) arrived in the newsroom. We became good friends but he was never very comfortable treading the daily round of magistrates’ courts, fires and golden wedding anniversaries. His scintillating style developed when he was appointed to run the gossip page. After we both moved to newspapers in London he gave me a hilarious account of his stay at Lord Beaverbrook’s villa in the south of France. At dinner one evening Beaverbook’s formidable partner Lady Dunn — later to become his wife the year before his death in 1964 — leant across the table and said, in everyone’s hearing, “Mr McGill you have the most peculiar laugh”. It was the laugh his friends loved, as implied in your excellent obituary.
General John Galvin
Michael Moore writes:I was the only admiral among 33 generals and air marshals on General Galvin’s staff when he was the supreme Atlantic Commander in Mons during the invasion of Kuwait (obituary, Oct 8). He invited me to write a paper on the maritime implications of the invasion, but not being sure how much the other international senior officers might make of naval acronyms, I carefully phrased my words indicating that it was essential to have our ships in place now rather than later, to avoid being caught with our trousers down. The paper was returned with only one red line, where he had corrected my spelling of “in flagrante delicto”.
Gordon Honeycombe
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Lady Butler of Brockwell writes:You mention in your obituary (Oct 13) Gordon’s adaptation of excerpts from cycles of medieval mystery plays. Some of your readers will remember the production going on tour from Oxford to the Edinburgh fringe in those heady days of summer 1960. Under Gordon and co-producer John Duncan, the performances, called “the Miracles”, took place in St Mary’s Church, Broughton. The cast survived (mainly on Shredded Wheat) in the church hall and it was a rush after the performance each night to get to the pub over the road for a sandwich and drink before “last orders”. It held its audience spellbound and often tearful, despite the amateur “method acting”. Gordon was justifiably proud of the dramatic intensity of his adaptation.