So it's a doddle, is it?

Mike Usherwood took exception to my recent column about the north/south divide over Royal Ascot and wrote: "What an easy job Bill Hearld has. He sits down every morning and pens yet another tedious article on the north/south divide (which did not exist until Yorkshiremen invented it) and gets paid for it! I doubt if there is a south country reporter who spends most of his time making snide remarks about the north so Bill please give up, you are getting nearly as boring as Geoffrey Boycott."

Boring? Me? Trouble is, thousands of you saw his letter and might have believed his mad rantings.

Well, I'm going to put the record straight and tell you about the sheer hell and grime of life at the coalface of journalism. For one thing, this column is written in my own time as a consenting adult, for no extra pay. It is usually carefully crafted on a Sunday morning after a three-hour stint of ironing which starts at 5.30am. You think I'm kidding?

I'll tell you how hard my job is, Mr Usherwood. Here's a diary of a typical day as deputy editor:

:: Bill's day

5.50am The alarm goes off to the sound of Billy Cotton's "Wak-ey, wak-ey" and then it's straight downstairs for a cup of tea and a fag. Ablutions are followed by a stroll through the walk-in wardrobe to choose a suitable silk number for the day's toil. Drive to York.

7.30am Morning news conference, where the heads of department discuss the day's news agenda, last night's Big Brother or big football match, and the nudes on Page 3 of the morning papers. That's where we decide how to keep the reporters' and sub-editors' noses to the grindstone while we do the real work of allocating their workload.

8.30am More tea, and a serious sorting out of all the invitations to events which have flooded in by email or post. Reject the ones which don't include free holidays, glamour, food or alcohol and then an obsequious 'yes' to the rest.

10.30am Check that the reporters, feature writers and photographers are doing their jobs and keeping the paper ticking over, then it's time to deal with the complaints about yesterday's paper.

The first woman says: "My daughter is on suicide watch because of something you've written in the newspaper. I'm going to sue you for every penny you've got!" Why, what's the problem? "She got sent down for three months for drugs dealing and she's depressed because it was in the paper."

Might she be depressed because she's just got three months in jail? "No, that doesn't worry her. It's just that because of your report, everybody knows about it." Eek!

12.30pm Quick lunch at the Mansion House with the Lord Mayor and Sheriff to discuss the price of fish, their charity fundraising and how best to publicise it.

1.45pm The paper's looking good, so it's off to the pub to escape the office heavy machinery and discuss tactics, meet contacts and eavesdrop on other people's conversations listening out for stories.

2.30pm Afternoon tea at Middle-thorpe Hall, where the lovely PR lady has invited me to see what is new at the stately, 100-star hotel. She put off inviting me before Ascot so I could not wheedle out of her just which celebs were staying there for the big race meeting.

4.30pm Champagne reception at another hotel to mark their new extension. The more fizz they pour, the more column inches they get.

6pm Back to the pub before changing into the dinner jacket to judge a beauty competition. They've promised a young lovely will be on hand to mop my fevered brow and fetch the drinks while I mark the contestants out of ten for legs, looks, style.

1am Phew, we've chosen a stunner, so it's back to my overnight hotel - with friends for a nightcap.

3am And so to bed, it's another early start for another heavy day tomorrow.

So Mr Usherwood. Think it's easy? Do you want to try it?

Updated: 09:25 Tuesday, June 14, 2005