It was a converted house. It was the Finchley Press in High Road Finchley in North London. The print shop as we would call it was downstairs and the offices were on the first floor where there had obviously been bedrooms of this old house.

We were, there- were three of us stuck in a little room with a gas fire which had obviously been there since the previous century. From day one I realised there were sounds which were something like..ahh-shoong-doonk-ahh-shoong-doonk-ahh-shoong-doonk.

Whatever was it? Well it was fascinating because I realised it in later years that that had to me almost a link with Caxton's time because it was a far cry from today's modern journalistic offices and newspaper offices and production departments with their arrays of workstations and keyboards and computer terminals.