David Lee was born in Manchester when it was still in Lancs and the world was black and white. He was taught by knowledgeable men, schoolmasters like Mr Chips, whose enthusiasm was infectious – and, yes, some wore leather elbow patches on tweed jackets and settled for nothing less than

301 Moved Permanently

the highest standards. He thanks these unsung heroes every day for showing working class boys the way forward into a different world. Likewise, he is also grateful for the good luck of being taught by some of the greatest art historians. He first worked in a supermarket, then for the GPO, a ‘superior’ tripe shop, two different paper mills, numerous building sites, a brewery, driving urgent medical supplies nationwide, and an oil company; the last for nearly ten years. All these jobs were in distinct ways at least as useful and as instructive as any formal education. Then, out of the blue, he was asked to edit an art magazine. Why not?

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nginx so it goes on. He has not yet made up his mind what to do when he grows up and is forced, at last, to get a proper job.

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