Stunning cover by Boston Magazine

Here is a stunning front cover by Boston Magazine. The shoes all really belong to runners in the marathon. The story behind the cover is as amazing as the design itself. Read about it here.

Chewy Luis and the News

There were plenty of gags doing the rounds after Luis Suarez bit Chelsea's Branislav Ivanovic on Sunday … most of them on Twitter within an hour. Of the newspapers, my favourite headline has to be this one on the front of The Guardian Sport yesterday. 

Monday's Sun, in best tabloid tradition, went with Gnash of the day and today with I've let down the fangs.

Metro went with Bite club and today's Independent had a strapline that said The morning after the bite before. Very tabloid.

The Daily Telegraph and Daily Mirror decided Suarez was not just a crazy footballer who bit out in the heat of the moment ... but, in fact, a cannibal.

Most, if not all, of these, were lines suggested on Twitter soon after the incident on Sunday. Newspaper subs really do need to have their Tweetdecks running as a constant source of headline inspiration these days. You will have seen most of the jokes by now. This is one of the better ones, so worth a further groan: BREAKING NEWS Luis Suarez is being sold to German club Borrusia Munchoncentreback.

The Photoshop artists were also in force. Here are a few visuals that caught my eye.

Meanwhile The Guardian should really take a bow for its foresight. This headline was written last month.

And The Daily Telegraph's Matt was his usual waspish self today.

The good news in all of this is that I am going to see Newcastle v Liverpool on Saturday and, with Suarez banned, we won't have to play in our new emergency kit (below). 

It is of course a serious incident that has implications for the player, the club and the sport - but it is also a cracking story and a headline writer's dream. Finally you might enjoy the way the whole thing was reported on SBS in South Korea.

There are more Suarez visuals on The Guardian and The Mail websites.

Hat tip to #tomorrowspaperstoday, @suttonnick and @SimonNRicketts

Mrs Thatcher's funeral - take your pick

Covering the Margaret Thatcher funeral was always going to be tricky for some newspapers. So, full marks to The Northern Echo for this brilliant piece of creativity. The paper is publishing two front pages, one on each side of the paper. Editor Peter Barron says: "A letter is being sent to newsagents in the North-East and North Yorkshire explaining that there are two front pages on opposites sides of tomorrow's paper: one which captures the respectful tribute paid by political leaders in London; and one which shows former County Durham miners unfurling a banner condemning her economic record.
"Newsagents are free to choose which of the pages they wish to display on their shelves. I dare say, it will be the version showing the miners' protest in places such as Easington, County Durham, and the more respectful front page in the likes of Richmond, North Yorkshire." 

Brilliant stuff. Read about it here.

Elsewhere there were plenty of photos to choose from so, perhaps, surprisingly no two papers use the same one on the front page … and few use a picture of Mrs Thatcher herself.

The Daily Mail chooses the human touch with a really powerful page. Instead of the fairly safe option of the coffin, it goes for a picture that reminds us all that, amid the divisions and politics, she was still someone's mother. I imagine those who are in the anti-Thatcher camp will cringe but it is a stunning image and headline. Politics aside, this demonstrates the power of simple layout. Good design is about telling a story - which is why this works.   

The Sun goes for a wraparound - and a reverential serif headline. In the best Sun tradition though, the headline rhymes. The cutout of Mrs Thatcher rising from the bottom of the page looks a bit peculiar to me - but a strong page nonetheless.

The Times has become the master of the wraparound, although sometimes the design dictates the picture instead of the other way round. This is a case in point. The front page is strong but I'm not sure the back page adds much - plenty of steps and the backs of head.

This framed picture, on the inside supplement, is very effective though. It is a great shot - and there can be no doubt that it is of a very British occasion.

The broadsheet format lends itself to occasions such as this ... all that front page space to play with. The Daily Telegraph does it well, setting the context with an aerial shot. A great photograph and the kind of picture-use that the Independent pioneered back in the mid-80s. The Telegraph is the only paper that carries an advert on its front. I hope it charged a premium.

The Guardian goes for strong head-on shot of the coffin. The faces of the military pall-bearers capture the solemnity and, perhaps, pride of the occasion.  A Jonathan Freedland colour piece also graces Page 1.

The Independent also goes for a head-on coffin photograph, showing the expressions of the pall-bearers. A solemn and dignified picture - although perhaps overshadowed a little by the yellow titlepiece. The Indie decides that the Boston bombing is also worth Page 1.

If I expected one paper take a less than reverential approach it would have been the Daily Mirror. But the paper plays it fairly straight - taking the angle that the Queen and Prince Philip were there to pay their respects. If there is a hint of disapproval it comes in the form of the headline - Thatcher rather than Mrs Thatcher - and the fact the Mirror decides there was a more important lead.

The i goes for an aerial shot - an innovation that was used by newspapers covering the funeral of Winston Churchill in 1965. It also opts for Thatcher rather than Mrs Thatcher.

The FT goes for an aerial shot too. I like the crop here - the pattern and engraving of the floor contrasting with the colour of the coffin.

In line with its policy of using young women on its front page, the Daily Star skips a generation and focuses on granddaughter Amanda. To be fair, she is a good angle. She is only 19 and spoke with composure and dignity. Interestingly, the BBC found itself leading on her late last night too.

The Daily Express chooses a picture of the coffin on the gun-carriage and trails a dispatch from inside St Paul's by author Frederick Forsyth.

Finally, even at funerals there can be moments of humour, so here is a picture which, whatever your view of Mrs Thatcher, should make you smile.

To see all of the pages and those I have missed out visit the excellent #tomorrowspaperstoday and @hendopolis

Mrs T and me

A rare visit to the North-East. Mrs Thatcher takes a walk in the industrial wasteland of Teesport in 1987

I never met Margaret Thatcher. She rarely came to the North-East, although there was one memorable walk in the wilderness in Teesside in 1987. I was meant to go to London to see her ... but fate, in the form of her resignation, intervened. A lunch was due to be held at 10 Downing Street on November 23, 1990, and I had accepted the invitation. On the morning of November 22 she resigned. All the journalists at The Northern Echo came in early and we produced a lunchtime edition. There was no commercial or sales rationale but it felt right editorially (those were the days). While I was on the floor drawing up pages, my secretary shouted over: 'Peter, Downing Street is on the phone for you.' The newsroom's collective jaw - mine included - dropped. I picked up the phone, swiftly thinking of the questions I would ask during my world exclusive interview. It was, of course, the appointments secretary to say, under the circumstances, tomorrow was cancelled.

David Kernek

My successor at the Echo, David Kernek, who had previously been deputy editor and Parliamentary correspondent did, however, meet Mrs Thatcher several times. Today, as Britain's first female Prime Minister is laid to rest, he reflects on her tenure. 

I will not be in London today for Mrs Thatcher’s state-funeral-in-all-but-name. I won’t be inside St. Paul’s Cathedral – I haven’t been invited – and I won’t be outside with my back turned as the gun carriage pulls her coffin up Ludgate Hill. My encounters with her were brief and sharp –and to her, doubtless, unmemorable – but I saw no reason to hate her as one might with good reason abominate Hitler, Stalin or Pol Pot.
The grocer’s daughter made much of her small-town, down home values, but Grantham was not a small town to which she returned frequently either during her working life or after it. In a message she sent to the town’s museum, she said: "From this town I have learned so much, and I am proud to be one of its citizens." Proud? If so, it was a pride she rarely demonstrated. The name of the school at which she was head girl was Kesteven and Grantham Girls' School. When she took her seat in the House of Lords, it was as the Baroness of Kesteven, not Grantham.
Her constituency was in North London – one of the better-heeled parts – her country retreat was in Kent, and her post-PM decades were spent in Chelsea. There are people who arrange to die where they spent their childhood years. I wasn’t at all surprised when I heard that she’d died at the Ritz, Piccadilly, not in Kesteven, wherever that is. Oh yes, I know where it is; it’s north of Milton Keynes.
The small-town grocer’s daughter from somewhere up north was, much more than most of her kind in the upper reaches of the political class, a metropolitan  big shot inhabiting a universe that stretches selectively from Highgate, Hampstead and Islington in the north to Westminster and Belgravia in the south and Hammersmith and Putney in the west. Its people holiday in Tuscany – sometimes at villas loaned by crooked Italian prime ministers – and New England.
When these people have something to say, they say it first to the BBC, or ITN, or the Daily Mail, The Daily Telegraph and The Guardian. They used to say it also to The Sun, but perhaps not these days. They tend not contact first The Kesteven and Grantham Bugle or, foolishly, The Northern Echo.
The House of Commons press lobby, however, offered a weekly opportunity to regional newspaper reporters to, as it were, get a look in. It was there as the Northern Echo’s political correspondent that I first met Mrs T who, like all opposition leaders and PMs took questions every Thursday from journalists at off-the-record meetings, sometimes in a small Commons’ attic, sometimes at No 10. This was in the days before those troublesome gates were put across Downing Street.
I can’t remember if Mrs T was then opposition leader or PM, but it didn’t matter; her response to my questions would have been much the same. I asked her what she thought of a speech to be made by John Nott – a senior Tory politician, who had thoughtfully given hacks advance copies.
What speech is that, she asked. The speech in which he said the terms on which Britain had entered the Common Market – as the Belgian Empire was then known – were seriously damaging to the country’s trade. He doesn’t say that, she said, glowering. He does, I said. No, no, he doesn’t, she said. I read out a sentence from Nott’s speech. Well, that’s not how I interpret it, she said, still glowering. Next question!
Mrs T was on the money when it came to the Soviet threat, but very slow to understand – until it was too late for her to do anything about it – what the Common Market was all about. She liberated the Falkland Islands, helped to hasten the collapse of the Soviet Union and got some of our money back from Brussels, but she shoved the Single European Act through Parliament. She appeared to be under the impression then that the European project was just about the free movement of Polish plumbers and Italian white goods.
I met her again a few years later, when I was deputy editor of The Northern Echo. I took a call from a big shot at the Conservative Party’s HQ in London. He asked for the editor. He’s on holiday, I said. Who are you? The deputy editor, I said. Right, he said, I’m phoning to ask if you’d like to attend a dinner in Newcastle tomorrow evening. Your host will be a VIP. I asked for the name of this VIP. He said he couldn’t tell me. Why not, I asked. Security, he said. I pointed out that The Northern Echo was a morning paper, which meant I normally had to be there at night. I couldn’t take the risk of going to a dinner in Newcastle to find the VIP wasn’t my idea of a VIP. Was it Mrs Thatcher? Couldn’t possibly tell you, old boy! I said I’d be there. This VIP, said the big shot, wanted to hear the opinions of opinion-formers in the North East. I wasn’t sure that I was an opinion-former – I didn’t have a certificate for it – but I very much doubted that hearing my opinions or those of colleagues in the region was what she wanted to do.
I was right. There were ten or 12 of us, journalists from NE newspapers, TV and radio stations. She greeted us warmly as we walked into the dining room. Haven’t I seen you before, she asked me. Yes, I worked at the Commons. Oh yes, that’s right. What brought you up here, David? Do have a drink!
My place at the table was directly opposite hers. The dinner was good – beef, lamb, something like that, and fine claret. The talk was small until we reached the coffee and chocs stage. The Government, she said, was having a problem getting its message across in the North-East. How did we think it could do better.  A little time was wasted as some of my colleagues tried to explain to her that the Government’s policies were wrecking what was left of the region’s industry. She showed no sign of being interested in the opinions of my fellow opinion-formers.
I piped up. “I don’t think, Prime Minister, that it’s our role to give you public relations advice.”
I got the glower, up close and personal.
“Well, I don’t know whose side you’re on, which party you support, but …”
“I’m not,” I interrupted, “on anyone’s side. I don’t support any party.” It was true; I didn’t.
I could have been speaking Mandarin Chinese. It was clear that I what I said was incomprehensible to her.
Much of what has been said about her this past week by her friends and foes alike has been claptrap. She was not a self-made woman. Marrying a millionaire was hardly an obstruction in the pursuit of her career goals. She was not uncaring and arrogant; she was kind and polite, unlike some on the Left – and in the middle – who claim in public to be champions of the people but who in private view them with contempt. She was not a witch. Yes, she knew her own mind, but was not greatly interested in the minds of others.
I still, after all these years, don’t support a political party, but looking back, and looking at what’s on offer these days, I give her one-and-a-half cheers. 

Footnote: Those of you familiar with the history of The Northern Echo might  know it has never had an editor by the name of David Kernek. Kernek is in fact David Flintham. This is the story in a par: He was adopted as a baby, when his surname was changed to that of his adoptive parents. In the 1990s, he traced his natural mother - a refugee from Nazi-occupied Austria - and later changed his name back to Kernek. What's in a name? Everything and nothing, he says.

Mel Cook: Great journalist, greater friend

The small Parish Church of St Giles in Balderton was packed yesterday ... with some of the best-known names in regional newspapers. They were all there for one reason, to celebrate the life of Mel Cook. Mel died two weeks ago, only six months after being diagnosed with cancer. He was 51. He was one of the most popular and likeable journalists I have ever met - which is why the church was brimming. In a business full of egos and ambition, there are not many people who get to the top and remain loved by everyone. Mel was an exception. I have truly never heard anyone say a bad word about him. Not only was he a hugely talented journalist, but he had an honesty and humour that endeared him to all. That came over in the service in Nottinghamshire yesterday afternoon. There were brave and tearful tributes from his dad and his sister who both shared their unbearable grief. And then four of his closest friends and colleagues delivered a eulogy that captured the spirit of the man. This is what they said:

Mike Sassi, editor in chief of The Sentinel, Stoke 

Monday June 20 1988 was my first day in journalism. It was also the first time I met Mel. I turned up at the front desk of the Derby Evening Telegraph to be greeted by a short, chubby chap with a bouffant of blond hair. (That wasn't Mel - that was Steve Hall.) He took me into a crowded newsroom where the news editor announced that first assignment for the nervous new boy would be to run the Dovedale Dash - five miles across The Peak District. I was shell-shocked. Until a kindly-looking fella with unusually tight curly hair and a luxuriant moustache wandered over and whispered: Don't worry mate - I'll show you what to do. That was Mel. And show me he did. He guided me through the training runs, helped me write the features and even gave me a lift there and back on race day. Because that was how Mel was; kind and generous - even to someone he'd never met. His kindness was legendary. But so was his sense of humour…

Simon O'Neill, editor, Oxford Mail 

Mel was the best friend a man could ever have. But my fondest memories of him are a blur of flaming hair, fluffy wigs and phantom news pages. The wigs were inspired by Mel's old sparring partner, then a balding Derby Telegraph news editor, Kevin Booth. During moments of great stress Kev would be confronted by chief sub Mel sporting a huge curly wig and screaming 'Calm down! Calm down!', in a ridiculous scouse accent. Oh how Boothy laughed. The phantom news pages were another little gift from Mel to the Derby news desk. When he didn't think they were under enough pressure he'd tell them they had extra pages to fill... and make sure they ended up doing huge amounts of unnecessary extra work – just for fun! And the flaming hair? Well they were Mel's own curly locks – set alight every year as part of the Christmas festivities, by then Derby editor Mike 'General Belgrano' Lowe. But there were no hard feelings. It was Mike Lowe who also appointed Mel to the most prestigious job he ever had: Manager of the infamous Derby Telegraph football team…

Steve Hall, MD at the Derby Telegraph 

Yes, this was a role in which Mel excelled. He led the team on football tours across Britain – memorably setting off hotel fire alarms in Gloucester, collapsing crossbars in Darlington and scuffling with three men wearing the same T-shirt (at the same time) in a Hull nightclub. The football wasn't pretty. But then again, neither was the team. With Mel at the helm, they gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'winning ugly'. And Mel wasn't just a winner on the football pitch, he was the best production journalist that I’ve known in 30 years in the business. Everything I learned about subbing and design, I learned from him. He was also a brilliant friend. I knew that I could always count on Mel in a crisis. I found out just how much after I was badly injured playing for (you guessed it) that Derby Telegraph football team. Mel carted me to hospital, spent all day there while I had a couple of broken bones put back into place and then, every day for six weeks afterwards, drove 20 miles out of his way to get me into work for 7am! Cookie was a great journalist – and an even greater friend…

Alan Geere, consultant editor, the Nottingham Post

A great friend indeed. But also very humble. One of my strongest memories of Mel was the day he was appointed editor in Scunthorpe.  Mel was already an experienced journalist, yet he insisted on driving 300 miles, down to Essex, to pick my brain about his new job. That was the measure of the man. Never too proud to ask. Always eager to learn. Of course, Mel spent much of his career teaching other journalists – particularly production journalists – how to do their jobs. I remember, in Wales, him trying to persuade one sub editor that every photograph had to be given a unique name, otherwise the new computer system might publish the wrong picture. Mel only realised he'd failed when he opened the following day's paper and saw a feature about the solar system... illustrated with an eight-column picture of a Mars bar! Yes. There was never a dull moment when Mel was around.

Mike Sassi again 

So you see Mel was a very special individual, who will be sorely missed. People loved him. Sometimes it was the small things, like leaving bags of joke sweets – full  of salt and pepper – lying around Mike Norton's desk. Because he just knew that Knocker Norton would not be able to resist taking a handful. It worked every time. Then there were the astonishingly annoying Star Ship Enterprise noises that he downloaded on to Richard Bowyer's keyboard – and refused to show anyone how to remove. But my final, favourite memory of Melly Mel was of the South Wales Echo football tour he organised to France. This was the day on which all his victims had their retribution. During a civic reception, in front of 500 guests, we secretly arranged for Mel to be invited onto the stage by the Mayor. With trumpets sounding, Mel was accepted as an honorary member of the Ancient Order of The Chevalier – The Gallic Freemasonry of French Musketeers. I will never forget the look on Mel's face as a floppy D'Artagnan hat – complete with three-foot feather – was placed on his head. The Mayor of Nantes announced: "We are proud to welcome Monsieur Melvyn Cook – the finest hairdresser in all of Wales!"  Mel stepped up to the microphone, straightened his tie and said: "Thanks lads!" 

No Mel. Thank you. Thank you for being such a generous, kind, happy fella. And for being our friend.

Here's to Mel. After the funeral we all raised a glass to Mel at his favourite drinking den, Brown's Bistro in his village of Fernwood. This is a picture that Mel would have loved. It shows me, Keith Perch,  Richard Bowyer, John Meehan, Mike Norton,  Mike Sassi, Alan Geere, Steve Hall and Simon O'Neill with a framed photograph of Mel and his partner Helen.

They are typical of the stories about Mel, told with warmth and real affection. Here are a couple of other tributes, from two of his former editors.

Mike Lowe, editor of Cotswold Life and Mel's editor at the Derby Evening Telegraph, recalled:

The Derby Evening Telegraph newsroom of the early 1990s was a place of remarkable talents - Keith Perch, Simon O'Neill, Kevin Booth, Steve Hall, Mike Sassi, Richard Bowyer, Simon Irwin, Jeremy Clifford - all of whom went on to great things. At the heart of this powerhouse, as chief sub, was Mel Cook.
Mel held it all together when things were in danger of spinning out of control. When an editor was making unreasonable demands or when the newsdesk wanted just five more minutes more, Mel was completely unflappable and utterly professional. And he met those unreasonable demands and he found those five more minutes. His sense of humour and positive attitude to life enhanced everyone's working day. His daily jousting with Boothy, our news editor, so often released the steam on the pressure cooker. He was always the one responsible for the latest practical joke. On rowdy football tours or for an hour down the pub, he was delightful company. He was a great friend and colleague and will be missed by all who were lucky enough to meet him.

Captain Cook. Mel (second from right, front row) with the infamous Derby Telegraph team

Mel later worked as deputy editor to John Meehan at the Hull Daily Mail. John said: 

We once faced the challenge of a very talented young reporter who had become disenchanted and had given in his notice. We were determined to persuade him to stay. I saw him but failed completely to change his mind.  I knew there was only one person who could turn this around - Mel. With his cheery, eternally positive nature, Mel was a master of motivating journalists. He decided a heart-to-heart with 'Uncle Mel' was required and he took the young reporter out for a liquid lunch to an Irish bar near the office. Trouble was, unknown to Mel, the bar had recently become a lurid gay meeting place.

The change was not obvious from outside, but inside it was dramatically different in 'ambience'. The lunchtime motivational session took place amid much interest in Mel - at the time sporting a moustache that would not have been out of place on one of the Village People - and his fresh-faced companion. The unusual setting worked a trick. The young reporter came back with a great story and all was right with the world. As ever, Mel also revelled in telling the story against himself. 

Humour, warmth and kindness were clearly a huge part of Mel's personality. There are some poignant comments about him on Hold The Front Page that illustrate what people truly thought of him. Mel was a first rate journalist and editor, a great father and family-man, a talented sportsman and a musician and comic who fronted the Yorkshire punk band, the Padlock Sisters. He was also one of the most positive people you could ever meet. When he was diagnosed last October, he was having none of it. He tackled it head-on, refusing to be anything but positive for those around him. He and his partner Helen created a 'wall of positivity' in their home - filled with messages, cards, mock front pages and memories.  It gave him and those who visited him an enormous amount of joy. 

Mel's journalism career started at Pontefract and Castleford Express and took in the Derby Evening Telegraph and South Wales Echo before he was appointed deputy editor at the Hull Daily Mail. He moved to the Scunthorpe Telegraph as editor and did a first rate job of taking the paper weekly in 2011. He was appointed editor of the Nottingham Post in May last year. He will, of course, be missed terribly by his family, including his daughter Ellie, his partner Helen and her son Luke, and by his friends and colleagues … but we will all cherish his memory and be grateful we had the privilege to know him.

Among the regional newspaper cast of thousands in the church yesterday were Mike Sassi and Richard Bowyer from the Sentinel; Simon O'Neill, editor of the Oxford Mail; Mike Norton, editor of the Bristol Post; former Leicester Mercury editor Keith Perch; former Hull Daily Mail editor John Meehan and deputy Paul Hartley; the executive team from the Nottingham Post including Steve Hollingsworth, Alan Geere and Charlie Walker; Steve Hall, MD at the Derby Telegraph; Mike Lowe, editor of Costwold Life; Kevin Booth, editor of the Burton Mail; Michelle Lalor, editor at the Grimsby Telegraph; Jeremy Clifford, editor at the Star in Sheffield; Dave Atkin, editor at the Scunthorpe Telegraph, Jon Grubb, former editor of the Lincolnshire Echo; Local World chief executive Steve Auckland and executive director Rich Mead; media lawyer Tony Jaffa; former editor of the South Wales Echo, Robin Fletcher; former editor of the Retford Times, Nick Purkiss amd former Grimsby Telegraph MD Mark Price. These are just a few of the people I caught up with. There were dozens of other journalists (if I missed you out, please forgive me) and of course countless other friends and family. It was a great tribute to a great man.    

Thatcher: Regionals capture the mood

Today's front pages illustrate perfectly what Britain really thought of Margaret Thatcher. There was no middle ground. It was either love or hate. I spent all of her Downing Street tenure working as a journalist in the North-East. I reported on what happened to the mining communities in the 80s, watched the way the working class values I had been brought up with were brushed aside and saw the region largely ignored by government. It is fair to say in that corner of England she was more loathed than loved. The Northern Echo that I worked on, certainly took a position against many of her policies but it would never have rejoiced in the death of an old lady. 

So well done to Peter Barron and his team for a first-rate and balanced front page. Like many papers, the Echo has gone for a stark black and white image. The three-deck quotes across the bottom show just how Thatcher polarised opinion. David Cameron's 'a great leader, a great Prime Minister, a great Briton' is countered brilliantly by the words of Durham miners' leader Dave Hopper: 'She did more damage to us than Hitler.' Sums it up really. 

The Journal in Newcastle also goes for a black and white image - although a more sympathetic choice - and takes the 'loved and loathed in equal measure' angle. Note the metallic headline - as in Iron Lady.

The Star in Sheffield, also in black and white, takes a more bullish line. It shows a picture from the Battle of Orgreave in 1984 when a mass picket of miners was met with a massive body of police officers - a brutal and violent confrontation. Memories run deep in the mining communities and The Star reflects that.

It wasn't just the Northern mining communities that were affected by the pit closures. Wales was also hit badly. The South Wales Evening Post reflects the view of the majority of its readers - that Wales will also never forgive her. 

The Western Mail also recognises that it is what Thatcher did to the mining industry that she will be remembered for. The word that defines her legacy in Wales is coal.

The Nottingham Post also covers a mining area - but strives for balance. The paper goes for a straight headline but the quote 'we are not sorry to see her go' no doubt reflects the view of many of its readers.

The Scotsman also goes with a black and white image, perhaps a little more sympathetic than those chosen by The Northern Echo and the Sheffield Star, and concludes that she divided the nation. No doubt about that.

Elsewhere in the regions there are more positive stances. The Worcester News goes for the former PM's relationship with Worcester ... and uses a picture of her visiting the Elgar Birthplace Museum.

Meanwhile the Eastern Daily Press opts for colour and a straight headline.

Over on the nationals, the most positive position is, not surprisingly, taken by the Daily Mail. Not the woman who divided Britain or changed Britain ... but the woman who saved Britain. The choice of picture also portrays a softer tone.

The same back-lit picture wipes out the front of The Daily Telegraph to create a dignified and subtle front which requires no headline.

The Times takes a different stance from everyone else. Having opted for one of its trademark wraparounds it needs a horizontal photograph. It selects one of a triumphant Thatcher in Moscow and angles in on her role in the dismantling of the Eastern Bloc. Good concept ... and strong front page. But on the day of the death of a former Prime Minister, you might think it an odd decision to take over the back page with a car roof, tower blocks and forlorn people in fur hats.

Inside the wrap, the paper plays it straight with an archetypal picture and factual headline.

Like many of the regional papers The Guardian goes for a severe black and white portrait to illustrate a Hugo Young epitaph, written in 2003. Interesting use of a yellow headline.

The Independent also goes for a black and white picture. With its tilted crop, gaunt face and staring eyes it is, perhaps, the starkest of them all.

The Daily Mirror plays it pretty straight - with a sub deck questioning whether the woman who divided a nation should really be given a ceremonial funeral. 

Meanwhile, The Sun takes the oddest angle of all. Forget the tributes, just tell it like any other tabloid tale. They could have gone all the way with the rhyming headline ... Maggie dead as she read in bed ... but I guess Ritz is such a compelling word. Not what I was expecting. 

Much more predictable, over on the Left, the Morning Star is pretty forthright. Compare the headline 'The woman who tore Britain apart' to that of the Daily Mail's 'The woman who saved Britain' ... and you have a synopsis of Margaret Thatcher's 11-year premiership in a nutshell.

Nobody on the anti-Thatcher side, though, is quite as brutal as the Socialist Worker. Splattered blood on a grave? The depth of hatred is demonstrated by the fact that a newspaper really believes it is justified to report the death of an 87-year-old woman in such a way. 

Finally, here is a snapshot of the Left's view from abroad. France's Liberation simply labels Margaret Thatcher La grande faucheuse ... the grim reaper. 

To see all of the pages and those I have missed out visit the excellent #tomorrowspaperstoday and @suttonnick