Having worked in media; including the BBC for many years and knowing a number of people whose names are included I was eager to read Miss MacGregor's memoir. It opens with a description of the schedule followed during the 18 years of co-presenting "Today" and highlights a typical morning's production. MacGregor relates her childhood and early years in apartheid South Africa where her family emigrated in 1947, of falling in love with radio at an early age and after finishing education in Britain returning to South Africa to gain broadcasting experience: talent won out and she was presenting her own programme at 20. She recalls returning to England and the adventures as a young woman in London, her break as a reporter on the "World at One", working up through the ranks, presenting "Woman's Hour" in 1972 and going on to co-present the "Today" programme in 1984. There are pertinent observations on the changes seen in 35 years at the BBC including the evolving role of women within the Corporation and having achieved by her own hard work MacGregor shows no feminist favouritism for its own sake. "Today" listeners longing for juicy tid-bits about Messrs. Humphrys and Naughtie will be disappointed: the only note of disquiet was discovering the iniquity of being paid less than male colleagues and that in spite of the professionalism and impartiality shown in diverse interviews over many years, on "Today" it always seemed to be John or Jim who bagged the political heavyweights.
Overall MacGregor appears a hardworking career woman who never having married or co-habited, regards her growing nieces as "family" and whose life otherwise centres on theatre, friends, travel and charity work. The difficulty however is that domesticity doesn't exactly make for riveting biography, therefore what was winsomely described in publicity as "elements of her private life" have unfortunately been included; these turn out to be recitations of a variety of affairs which seem to have offered little in the way of anything permanent or abiding. Instead MacGregor seems pathetically eager to reiterate she is single by choice, that men desired her and that she indeed Had Her Moments with elements including Alan the Australian who "relieved" her of her virginity, a Fleet Street reporter, a Russian agent and two long term affairs with a pair of adulterous chancers while blithely indicating that such connivance suits because she's "resolutely" single and thinks the wives don't know. The tone is everso wry and terribly cosmopolitan, yet behind all these coy "liaisons" and "rendezvous" one glimpses a rather solitary 60 year old woman whose great love was her career in radio and whose emotional lacks might be down to simply having lived a lifetime by and for herself without ever having experienced the day to day responsibility for another's wellbeing.
The affair with Leonard Rossiter brought mockery for the vicious treatment of his family: informing his widow that her old rogue's away-days were to be disclosed and both their privacies shattered whilst protecting the names of other well-known lovers and disingenuously blaming the newspapers for forcing the disclosure. And though it's related in few words the snobbery and sense of entitlement were striking: deceit is "discreet" and MacGregor clearly believed she was superior to the more humble theatre fan indulging in similar japes. Ultimately any Mills and Boon tendency is torpedoed by Rossiter: he had no illusions, allowed MacGregor none, it reads as the cliché showbiz affair with the willing fan who hung on hoping and who when attempting any grass widow airs was bluntly told she knew exactly what she was doing. Yet like the assertion that the late Sir Robin Day suffered unrequited passion for her (I wondered what sarcasm this would have elicited from Sir Robin) such one-sided disclosure years later, when the reality is that it served no public interest ultimately defeats the book's purpose; in the inherent use of a dead man's grave it utterly invalidates any claims to friendship and in that context reads as the loser's kiss-tell-'n'-sell, cleverly related in porcelain tones by a veteran who knew exactly what was rightfully private and public. The tone is all heavily understanding and redolent of self pity yet in spite of the yearning for status its no "other" woman or mistress (which caused considerable hilarity amongst certain members of Actors Equity who read the book and suggested it to me): it's the resentful fan seeking recognition over their Affair with the Actor; even one conveniently dead who not only seems to have cheerfully viewed "rendezvous" as he would a squash game (sic) but made clear that fun's fun but his real life was actually none of her business. And - most galling of all - was someone else's boy because that's the way he damn well liked it and if the beguiling Miss MacGregor didn't she could lump it. Reading this section while recalling the man and what the reaction would be to this emotive guff, my only feeling when finishing was that Sue MacGregor was fortunate that Leonard Rossiter is dead.
Ultimately in spite of all the effort and heartfelt hyperbole "Woman of Today" tries to be a story sprightly told, mildly interesting in parts but on the whole it's eminently dull. Media students studying the history of the Corporation or die-hard "Today" buffs might find it of interest but in the end - rather like the "Today" programme itself - the world moves quickly on and for the rest "Woman of Today" is very much Yesterday's tale.