I was intrigued by the article inviting information from former employees of the Surrey Comet relating to their experiences in that capacity.

The Comet was, of course, part of Knapp, Drewett & Sons Ltd and any experience I had was chiefly confined to the latter.

The following must, of necessity, be chronological and begins with my
employment in 1930 at 12s 6d a week as a 'reading boy' in the Reading Box under the benign gaze of Mr Norrish, the Head Reader.

There were three or four other readers but only one other name rings a bell; Mr Shave, he of the strangulated voice.

The next step in the promotion ladder was as a lowly assistant to Mr Lowry, the overlord of the Lightning Presses, tucked away in the corner of the Compositing Room but still within range of the eagle eye of the Overseer, Mr Forder.

This particular job had its quieter moments and opportunity was taken to observe the antics of some of the 'comps', particularly one old retainer who was assigned the job of extracting the dust from the type cases in the vacuum machine. He presented a quaint gnome-like figure and was also heavily suffused with snuff. This habit involved his friend, a machine minder, who was also addicted to the 'weed' and was of a similar build and appearance.

The latter would emerge from the nether regions at various times of the day to visit his friend and indulge in the ritual of the 'cross hands snuff-take', each would produce his snuff box, proffer it to the other and partake, resulting in the aforementioned situation, always good for a chuckle!

Another snuff ritual involved the deputy overseer, Mr Seown, who used to make a circuit of the Composing Room several times a day, stopping at pre-determined locations for a pinch and a word or two with a particular crony; we could always tell where he was by the piercing whistle which emanated from his nose, that particular organ being honed by years of snuff-taking. It was also observed that despite keen observation he never appeared to produce a snuff-box of his own!

The next rung on the apprentices' ladder was assignment to Mr Looker i/c the apprentices' 'ship'. He was an elderly comp of infinite patience and forbearance considering the dance half a dozen 16 and 17-year-olds led him most of the time, but he knew his job and I think we all learned something from his instruction.

The last two or three years were spent in the Composing Room proper mixing with the 'old sweats' and gaining experience but was cut short by the war in 1939.

My actual period on the Comet was as a proof-reader from 1952-56 when on the retirement of Mr Grimes I took up the 'spike'.

So ended my association with the Comet and Knapps as I thought, but was pleasantly surprised on taking up a position of Reader on the Daily
Telegraph to find a large percentage of ex-Comet comps on the shift,
unsurprisingly highly thought of by the management.

The foregoing may appear boring or even a bad job application but I can assure you at 89 I have no ambitions in that direction.

Some memories do recall incidents such as the great freeze of the early
1930s when the heating failed to cope and all the gas lights were operated continuously to try and generate a little warmth, or the flu epidemic at about the same time when, in a bid to avert sickness and maintain production, we had the daily ritual of queuing at the 'stone' for a double dose of quinine and some other foul liquid, or the return of the wanderer after the war to find that 'reading boys' had become 'reading girls'.

Finally I hope this account of one small drop in a large ocean can be of
some relevance and perhaps kindle some interest or even a chuckle or two.

Archie Heard
Summer Road
East Molesey