In amidst much else that is gloomy (our probable lack of preparedness for the threat posed by avian flu) or, shall we say, arresting (the new powers of the Home Secretary to impose Control Orders), the Telegraph (may require registration) lightens our world with news of the death of its eccentric, erstwhile reporter, Harry Greenfield:
He joined The Sunday Telegraph in 1965 and soon became the defence correspondent. He was a genial man with a bushy beard and had a tweedy, shambolic air. He could never bring himself to open his post and the Ministry of Defence press releases piled up on his desk to form a barricade.
Once Sebastian Faulks, one of his colleagues at the time, pulled an envelope from near the bottom of the heap, opened it and said: "Ah Harry, I see Mafeking has been relieved."
He had two Jack Russell terriers, named Chindit and Sherpa. After the death of Sherpa, he often brought Chindit to the office where he would sit on Greenfield's lap as he worked. If anybody approached, Chindit would go for them. Chindit never had his owner's impeccable good manners and had Greenfield banned from most of the pubs in Clapham, south London.
Greenfield moved on to become a feature writer with a style much more elegant than his appearance and he covered many aspects of country life. He had a passion for fly fishing and he also wrote a memorable article about Chindit's success in a ratting contest.
After his departure from the newspaper, Greenfield became involved in paganism and his former colleagues heard tales of him dancing naked at stone circles. He was 65 before he had his first tattoos and he told a friend that the thing that most embarrassed him about his past was that he had worn a tie-pin.
