Peter Mosley's nose for news was the envy of his peers

When Peter Mosley took me to London Bureau in the late sixties it felt like a dream transfer, akin to moving from a small Championship side to the glamour of Premier League football.

I’d had a year or so of grimly plugging away on the World Desk downtable, which at the time employed at least two subs who eschewed typewriters in favour of fountain pens.

And then I got to work for this sparky young London Bureau chief, whose eyes met yours with the burning question: do you care as much about news as me? If he believed the answer was positive then you were a trusted lieutenant for the duration. If not, forget it.

In those days the London Bureau was based in Gotch House, a few hundred metres from Reuters’ Fleet Street offices. I never really discovered whether this was a deliberate policy to counter charges that we were an Anglo-centric international news agency or to keep a slightly eccentric bunch of staffers at arm’s length from the World HQ. But putting Peter Mosley in charge was a stroke of genius. He was quite simply the finest of news organisers with a nose for news that was the envy of his peers. His copy was bright and tight, with a superb narrative flow that left the opposition floundering.

After six years in London Bureau, I worked as Peter’s number two in Johannesburg, where we shared some momentous times, both in and out of the workplace. With us was Peter’s long-time protégé Brian Timms, who escaped the musty atmosphere of Reuters’ Library to become one of two editorial assistants in London Bureau. Peter, always happy to share his techniques with younger colleagues, mentored Brian into one of the most able of Reuter correspondents who went on from South Africa to work in Asia and Australia.

One of the great pleasures of life in Johannesburg was for my wife and I to get to know Ann, the love of Peter’s life and his wife of more than 40 years. Our deepest condolences to you, Ann, at this sad time.

I’m glad to say that just over a fortnight ago I found myself sitting next to Peter at lunch. It was the longest chat we’d had in decades and he seemed not only chipper, but as sparky as ever. Oh dear. ■