Several times in the early 1990s, when I was in Europe on assignment for the Times, I phoned in my stories via the Recording Room. It was the most romantically outdated process, and I loved it: ringing up and reading my copy, clearly enunciating and noting each capital letter, comma, period, and other piece of punctuation: "Dateline Paris, When Capital J John Smythe CAPITAL S-M-Y-T-H-E heads to his garden each morning COMMA ..." It was bizarre and wonderful at the time same and gave me a Murrowesque thrill.
Several times in the early 1990s, when I was in Europe on assignment for the Times, I phoned in my stories via the Recording Room. It was the most romantically outdated process, and I loved it: ringing up and reading my copy, clearly enunciating and noting each capital letter, comma, period, and other piece of punctuation: "Dateline Paris, When Capital J John Smythe CAPITAL S-M-Y-T-H-E heads to his garden each morning COMMA ..." It was bizarre and wonderful at the time same and gave me a Murrowesque thrill.