I bought a book of reviews by Kenneth Tynan the other day. Curtains. I wanted to look at them again because as a young man, as a teenager, I read his reviews in The Observer. I would get up early on a Sunday to walk several blocks to the corner store so I could get a copy of The Observer, which wasn't easy to find in a working-class steel town like Scunthorpe. That's how I found out about the work in London that I was not able to see. Tynan's reviews were so important to me. He was a magnificent champion of people's work. It was more than “Oh, I like the plays of so-and-so” or “There's a play by so-and-so.” It was part of something bigger. It was really the beginning of the journey into all of this for me.