6 • The Sunday Times Magazine
Clive
My parents didn’t want me to be a journalist. They
arrived in Britain from Jamaica in the early Sixties and
worked hard to make a life here. Instead I was
encouraged to be a lawyer — “We didn’t fly 6,000 miles
to this freezing cold country for you to do that,” was the
tenor of many a conversation.
Mum and Dad followed my uncle to Bolton from the
Caribbean, which must have been a huge culture shock.
My dad, Norris, worked for British Leyland making car
batteries. The factory was so close to our house we
could hear the shift siren. Mum trained as a teacher in
Jamaica but it was soon made clear her qualifications
weren’t acceptable here. It must have been a great
disappointment for her not to be allowed to continue
her career. I don’t know if it was discrimination or not,
but there were certainly times when they were not
made to feel welcome. I still think to this day there is a
bitterness about some things that she won’t talk about.
Fortunately Mum was a brilliant seamstress, and as
well as bringing up seven children she had a job in a
clothing factory. She was so good she ended up running
her department, making clothes for Mary Quant, M&S
and even the raincoats worn by Harold Wilson, the
prime minster. Most children would be horrified if their
mother made their school uniform but Mum’s
needlework was brilliant.
On my first day at school I became so nervous I was
physically sick. I didn’t speak to anyone for weeks and
my teacher was so worried she suggested to Mum that
I saw a child psychologist. It wasn’t that bad, but how
ironic I was dumbstruck, considering my job now.
I had a lovely childhood, secure in the bosom of the
family home. Mum liked to listen to Jim Reeves records
and we had the classic West Indian pineapple-shaped
ice holder and photographs of Jamaica on the wall.
I was brought up with a strong work ethic and didn’t
want to let my parents down, which is partly why I
studied law, even though my heart was really in
journalism. I had a paper round as a kid and read the
newspapers I delivered. I became fascinated with the
wider world and horizons beyond Bolton.
After university I trained with the BBC and worked
on local radio. It took Mum a while to appreciate I had a
successful career. When I began reading the BBC news
she finally conceded I was doing well. I’ve worked in
more than 90 countries, sometimes in challenging
conditions such as wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. I always
made a point of calling Mum and my wife, Catherine,
an antique furniture restorer whom I married in 1998,
to let them know I was OK. I know my parents struggled
with that at times, so often I didn’t tell them where I
was. They only found out when I appeared on screen.
Mum has a lot of empathy for people. She was a
working-class immigrant but did really well and moved
up the ladder. Even so, she has never lost sight of who
she is and where she came from. I believe that has been
passed down to me and I hope I’ve conveyed empathy
in my reporting of difficult situations around the world.
When the announcement was made about
Mastermind I was taken aback by the reaction. I’ve been
bombed by Saddam Hussein’s forces and shot at by the
Taliban, but this felt like serious pressure. I know Mum
likes the programme. I watched it as a child with Magnus
Magnusson as the host and it truly is a British institution.
I feel honoured to now be asking the questions.“I’ve been bombed in Iraq and shot
at by the Taliban, but Mastermind
felt like serious pressure”
Clive Myrie & Lynne Halden
The BBC journalist and his mother on their family’s work ethic and presenting Mastermind
Main: Clive, 57, and
Lynne, 85, in her
garden in Derby.
Right: the pair with
Clive’s younger
brother Garfield
in Bolton, 1967RELATIVE VALUES