WHEN I was at school a Telegraph & Argus reporter came to talk about her job. It must have struck a chord because I decided I wanted to be a journalist.

A decade or so later I walked into a scruffy little newsroom in the Spen Valley, my first day as a reporter. After writing to countless newspapers across the country, (I went through an entire Basildon Bond pad and a lot of stamps. The T&A rejected me), I landed a job on a weekly newspaper, run by a local family for over a century. As well as general news, I was given the ‘women’s page’ to fill which, among other things, involved attending the monthly Cleckheaton Ladies Luncheon Club.

It was a delightfully old-fashioned newspaper - pages were produced by hot metal type-setting and every Thursday night, when we stayed late to do proof-reading, the printing press thundered beneath our feet. For us young reporters, it was sink or swim. We were ruled by a steely news editor who insisted no stone was left unturned, even if it meant giving up a Friday evening to cover a stuffy black tie dinner. As well as grass roots community news - Golden Weddings, church fetes, am dram reviews - we attended court, inquests, council meetings, industrial tribunals and many local committees. I covered everything from a chip-shop-of-the-year to a gruesome murder trial. When I sat on a bus behind someone reading my first front page ‘splash’, I wanted to lean over and say: “I wrote that”.

A job every reporter dreads is knocking on the door of someone bereaved by a ‘newsworthy tragedy’. When I was sent to visit a grief-stricken couple the day after their teenage daughter was killed in a road accident, I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d frog-marched me off their doorstep. But they invited me in and handed me a photograph of their girl for the newspaper. “You’re just doing your job, love,” her father said to me.

Several years, and two newspapers, later, I started at the Telegraph & Argus, initially on the newsdesk and later in features, working with some of the best people I’ve ever met. I grew up reading the T&A, it dropped onto our doormat every night. Whenever I returned to visit, after leaving home, I’d leaf through the T&A (once my dad had done the crossword). I read columns by journalists such as Mike Priestley and Helen Mead who I later worked alongside.

In my time, journalism has seen huge changes. I started out handwriting court reports, and later sent copy from a rural office to the newsroom via a creaky modem link; a complicated process which involved shouting “Modem!” to stop the other reporter using the ‘phone line, which blocked the transmission. Then came mobiles, the internet age and online journalism.

I’m proud to be part of the T&A as it marks its 150th anniversary. Journalism is evolving and the digital age is a world away from the industry I started off in. News used to be pushed through every letterbox on our street. Now it’s something we tap into on our ‘phones, via click bait and SEO. That weekly I cut my teeth on represented a lost age of newspapers. The ‘paper doesn’t exist anymore, I believe the building is now a carpet shop. There’s a generation growing up who will never buy a newspaper.

Me, I like the print on my hands. Wherever I go, I buy a local paper. There’s nothing else quite like them. However you read the news, the T&A remains at the heart of Bradford, as it has been for 150 years - breaking news, campaigning on community issues, reporting on local people and places, and raising a smile with a tale about a python in a park.

* Ivy has read a century of T&A news

I RECENTLY had the pleasure of meeting one of the T&A's oldest readers, Ivy Pell, who turned 100 yesterday.

Ivy was one of the T&A's "Jubilee Babies" , a group of children born in the week of July 16, 1918, when the paper celebrated its 50th anniversary. Every year, until they were 21, the youngsters were treated to a birthday party, with gifts including the cup Ivy is pictured with. "I've read the T&A all my life, I have it delivered every day and read it cover to cover," says Ivy. Happy Birthday, to a very special centenarian.

* Mamma Mia! Feelgood movies are a perfect tonic

A FRIEND who was going through a crisis once clung to the mantra that "everything's going to be okay because Jurassic Park 2 is coming out". I felt the same about the Sex and the City film, which offered glorious escapism at a time when I needed it. That same year, 2008, saw the release of the Mamma Mia movie and, like everyone else who saw it, I left the cinema in a feelgood glow. I loved it so much I later travelled to the little Greek island where it was filmed. Now the sequel is here, reuniting the original cast, and - joy - this time around Cher is in it too!

Yes, it's bound to be a bit daft, with more Abba gems shoehorned in, but if it delivers the intoxicating joie de vivre the first Mamma Mia blessed us with, I will gladly lap it up.