Ouch! This hurts

There’s a reason journalists are referred to as wordsmiths. Our Chester base is witness to numerous battles with language, as trainees, fast trackers and sub-editors employ their own strategies to forge words into news stories. I listen to people desperately reading their embryonic headlines out loud, hoping vocalisation will help (it often does); I watch people trawling endlessly through the dictionary for the perfect word; and I overhear arguments about the nuance of a particular term. I entered into a spirited debate over the difference between fraud, theft and embezzlement – with hasty consulting of McNae’s Essential Law for Journalists. Sometimes we manage to craft the perfect story, with a lead that sings, where no word is wasted, no double meanings creep in and no ironclad rule is flouted. Sometimes we don’t, and can be seen walking the halls in frustration when the words just won’t be bent to our will. But everyone keeps trying, from new trainee to experienced editor, and partly that’s what we want them to learn: that this process is difficult. After all, we are trying to bring news stories into the world – and we all know that giving birth hurts. (By Lisa Essex, long-suffering sub editor)

Chester day 3: Good night and good luck

Trainees and fast trackers alike have been out and about in the Chester area searching for stories to write and pictures to take. Dima went to the zoo. He is still puzzled about people paying 200 pounds to clean up after the elephants in the Zoo’s “I was a keeper for the day” offer. Golnar went to the Nowhere House where John Lennon is said (by some) to have been inspired to write a famous song, and Kuba has not been back to the angry lady at the bingo hall where he was planning a nice story.

The weather has been beautiful, which offers a relief after Tuesday’s rain and cold. Appraisals continued for everybody, and the hostel’s lounge has become “the place to be”. At times, it even resembles a tiny news room and hang-out place wrapped up in one, pleasant for us, scary for some other guests.

With dinnertime approaching, and no less than six chickens in the oven, Brian and Rob should be able to feed us all, and maybe even the rest of the house. Rob’s recurrent trips between the kitchen and the lounge asking questions about chickens and potatoes, and Brian’s “wish us luck” as he headed for the kitchen late afternoon, is enough reassurance that everything is under control. (By Mette K. Fraende)

Internet, appointments, dinner and onion tears

This was a busy day. Not only did I have an interview at an awfully early hour and had to arrange meetings for the coming days, but was also assigned to the slot in the afternoon and had to cook the dinner. Interview proved to be the easiest part. Writing a story on the basis of it wasn’t that bad either.

It was finding internet coverage in the back garden of ‘The Manor’ that proved a pretty tricky and unpleasant experience. Nigel and I were running between the main building and one which we identified as former stables in a pouring rain desperately trying to cover the computer with an umbrella while entering the PIN number from SECURID. We would somehow be able to hold this small item in sight to write down the number appearing on a tiny screen only to learn that we’ve just lost coverage and the whole process had to be started again. Amazingly enough we finally managed to complete the daunting task of using the Internet in one of the most affluent areas of one of the G7 economies for an estimated 1 minute and 21 seconds.

Tuesday’s dinner team consisted of two acclaimed Chefs both of whom won Hell’s Kitchen reality show in 2005 and 2006 respectively: Kuba Jaworowski and Raissa Kasolowski. We spent more time shopping as our butler and driver Mr Rohan failed to pick us up and Our Kitchen Highnesses had to use a cab to get back to ‘The Manor’. Cooking was easy only thanks to Golnar who came to the rescue just in time for me to calm down after bursting into tears over a plate full of onions.

Saved by Golnar, Grand Dinner was a success and I even managed to stash a huge box of ice-cream in my room. (By Kuba Jaworowski)

Day two in Chester and the trainees are revolting

Day two in Chester and the trainees are revolting. We appointed a morale officer and he informed me the trainees were unhappy at the lack of Internet access in our otherwise well-appointed hostel. OK, the 3G card we have only works in the lounge and today’s rain seems to have made hooking up to the wireless network in the back garden more difficult, but it made me think about how the Web has changed the game for journalists. Not always for the better. It has certainly speeded up research. We now have access to excellent primary sources on company and government Web sites. On the other hand, there is the temptation to believe what is on the Internet without question. Just because it’s on Google or even Wikipedia does not make it true, we tell the trainees. Yes, it’s a good pointer, a tip-off, but the Internet has surely increased the need for the healthy scepticism that journalists should always exercise. But enough of this because the trainees wanted the Internet so they had to have it, right? So out into the garden we went with my laptop. And an umbrella (to protect the laptop, not the trainee). We found a wireless hot spot, or at least a lukewarm spot. Sadly, it was in the middle of the lawn and required the laptop to be held at least 5 feet off the ground. I was reminded of my short but memorable stay in the Hotel Tojikistan, Dushanbe, in about 1995 where we had to request a room with a southern aspect so we could point the suitcase-sized satellite phone at a satellite over the Indian Ocean. You tell the young people of today such things and, quite properly, they don’t give a hoot. Next time we’ll have a cable laid. (By Nigel Stephenson)

Like Bambi on ice

Day One began with scalding showers (for some of us) and four breakfasts (for one of us). After a slightly chaotic morning news meeting, Rob blagged a lift to Airbus to watch a cake be cut and the rest of us hit the streets of Chester.

Within hours, Kuba managed to get himself thrown out of a Bingo hall, Soc did a great interview and promptly deleted the tape, and Mette almost got arrested.

Mishaps aside, we regrouped at our salubrious HQ for dinner with some decent stories under our belts. With bellies full of Persian food and red wine, only a few sad hacks (including this one) traipsed back to the newsroom or to the garden, where – in a certain spot by the fence, if you stand on one leg – you can get WiFi. (By Sarah O'Connor)