Alexander Waugh

Raise A Glass

It was precisely twenty years ago that I first got myself published – a book review that was printed in this magazine shortly after my father, the late lamented Auberon Waugh, became its editor in March 1986. Little did I realise then, as I sheepishly slipped him the script, over which I had sweated blood for two weeks in my Manchester student digs, that it would mark the start of a more or less continuous stream of book, record, concert, opera and television reviews that would somehow or other provide the main source of my income for the next two decades.

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