This is a thoroughly enjoyable personal history of journalism, written by the then BBC Political Editor, and former editor of the Independent, Andrew Marr.

My Trade certainly delivers on its promise to provide ”A Short History of British Journalism”, but rather than delivering a dry journalistic history, Marr injects copious amounts of humour and panache. He provides many personal anecdotes – some longer and more developed than others, but all entertaining – and passes judgement on developments in the media world, rather than merely reporting their occurence. The personal touch makes the copy much more engaging, and prevents it descending into a super-extended newspaper feature, like so many other books by journalists.

Anybody interested in British journalism would be well advised to read a copy of this book. It provides much background on how newspapers are put together, and how this has changed over the years. It even provides some history on the rivalries between newspapers, looking at (as an example) how The Mirror’s sales declined at the hands of The Sun, and how Marr’s own Independent set out to be different from everyone else, but ended up being much the same.

This is not intended to be – and nor is it – a detailed history of the development of the British media. Instead, it’s an enjoyable romp through the subject, stopping off at points of interest – particularly recent ones, and many of which you’d have thought he may have liked to avoid. He goes into some detail about Hutton and the problems of modern journalism, making convincing arguments for his point of view – which is, in part, critical of his BBC paymaster. It’s very clear from his writing that he’s experienced as a journalist, not just because he lists his many and varied jobs, but also because of the detailed insight he is able to deliver, and the apparent wisdom of some of his comments.

Certainly, this is a very easy-going enjoyable read, from a political editor who comes across as an affable kind of chap, and a book which I must highly recommended.

My Trade is available now from amazon.co.uk in paperback and on Kindle.

This big wheel is next to Asda in South Shields. I guess it’s related to the remnants of St Hilda’s Colliery which are next to Asda, but whether it’s a bit of the colliery or some artistic interpretation I’m not entirely sure.

The colliery was active for 130 years, during which 118 miners were killed, many of whom were in their teens or early twenties. Some were as young as 9. Fifty-one miners died in a methane-fuelled explosion on 28th June 1839.

Next time someone complains about ‘elf ‘n’ safety, remind them that there are few workplaces these days with mortality figures quite like that.

This picture shows the Goldcraft jewellers, located within a Morrisons store near me. A jewellers in a supermarket seems a little odd to me – perhaps it did to others, too, explaining why its shutters were down today.

This is the Normand Installer, an offshore construction vessel moored at North Shields. It’s just six years old, and was built in Norway. The orange paintwork is certainly eye-catching, but perhaps it’s common for seafaring construction vehicles to have highly visible paintwork, like their land-based equivalent. I’ve really no idea whether that’s the case or not!

To my eye, this Christmas “tree” – one of several at the Metrocentre – is spectacularly ugly. It isn’t even festive!

It’s supposed to echo the artwork that you can just about see on the right of the photo. But, if anything, the juxtaposition just makes this particular decoration look even cheaper!

I wonder if anyone recognises where this is? It’s the panelling along a train platform. It’s uniform and superficially quite dull, but the angle of the lighting provides an unusual optical illusion in which it becomes difficult to determine whether the inset panel centres are indeed inset or outset.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t really come across terribly well in this photo!

This week’s recommendation is an article from the Wall Street Journal, in which Alexandra Berzon sets out the extraordinary story of Terrance Watanabe and his huge loss over the course of a year in Las Vegas. To me, it’s a shocking tale of corporate irresponsibility – but I’m quite sure others will see it differently.

We’ve all been there: you get to the airport, and with a jolt of horror realise that you’ve forgotten to buy a souvenir gift for your friend or loved one. What will you do? You panic, and then decide that you’ll have to pick something up at the airport.

Luckily, Heathrow has your back on this one…

Simply buy this life-size steel mesh sculpture of Tom Daley, a snip at just £18,000 and oh-so-easy to slip into your hand baggage.

I shouldn’t mock. Nikki Taylor is clearly a very talented artist, and it is sort of nice to see an airport trying something different. I guess the idea is that people might appreciate the art while trapped in an airport in a way that they may perhaps not at other times. But there’s something so amusingly incongruous about the experience that it’s hard not to smile.

Someone must have been feeling a little sign-happy at some point…! Actually, I think each sign refers to a different individual bay, but still…

Published only a couple of years ago and “now a major motion picture”, as they say, One Day is one of those much-lauded books that has received such widespread acclaim that it’s probably now considered de rigueur to deride it with a scoff and an unflattering comparison to Italo Calvino.

Fortunately, fashionable reviews aren’t my sort of thing, and whilst this is hardly Calvino, it’s not really a sensible comparison. This is David Nicholls: it’s light and slightly fluffy comedic prose with a heart. And One Day is perfectly functional in that respect.

This is a fairly run-of-the-mill love story. It follows two people growing up through the late 80s and the 1990s, with plenty of zeitgeisty stuff muddled into the story to appeal to the large segment of the young to middle-aged book-reading population who also graduated from university and started their “adult” life around the same time. Each chapter covers St Swithin’s day in a different year, presented largely chronologically except for the occasional (and largely predictable) dramatic aberration.

It’s well written and absorbing, with some relatively detailed characterisation for the genre. But I was left a little bit disappointed. I know that most reviews cite a deep, or a least emotional, response to this story, but I’m afraid I was left unmoved. I don’t think this is because I’m stony-hearted, because I find plenty of other literature moving. I just found myself getting a little fed up with it. The progress of the plot is so utterly, teeth-gnashingly predictable that the ending couldn’t come soon enough, and the interminable circuitous storylines and ruminations holding it back became just a little bit dull.

I far prefer some of David Nicholls’s other books – particularly Starter for Ten (also a “major motion picture”), which is a more contained and less self-aware story that has much more humour in it. I think Nicholls is a fine writer of these light easy-read books, and I very much enjoy his work.

I wonder if others’ emotional connection to this book is due to it reflecting aspects of their own lives. There’s a lot of talk in the reviews of it reminding people of their youth, and perhaps it’s that that engenders and facilitates the emotional connection. Perhaps that’s why I’m missing out.

Either way, this is definitely worth a read… just don’t necessarily expect the depth of response to the material that others report.

One Day is available now from amazon.co.uk in paperback and on Kindle.