Robert Philip, the man in the fridge

You meet all sorts of characters in your professional life and from time to time one of them stands out.

When I was sent to the Olympic Games for the first time by Reuters --1988 in  Calgary -- I arrived at nightfall and it was snowing.

An eerie coach took me to the press village, a kind of encampment with watchtowers guarded by sinister looking soldiers in chapka hats carrying machine guns. At the sleepy reception desk I was told the number of the soulless hut where I needed to go for the night.

I arrived there under the pale illumination of a neon light shrouded by snowflakes.

Suddenly I saw the door of the chalet open and two men came out carrying a fridge which they threw into a heap of snow. The door of the fridge opened and out jumped an impish figure, laughing hilariously.

He was called Robert Philip. I realised at that moment that I had chosen the right profession.
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