When Auntie was young and carefree

Stephen Potter, author, radio writer and producer (1900-69, floruit 1940s and 1950s), is an instantly recognisable name, as his son Julian ruefully remarks, ‘to those over 70’. He belonged to the particularly English genus of the highly professional amateur. Cantankerous J. B. Priestley — whom Potter revered and loved working with — had Potter’s number. ‘Mary asks when I’m coming back [after illness] and I say Tuesday. J. B. says, “Well, that’s the start of the week really. And then why not slog straight through to the finish, till Thursday?”’

That comes from Potter’s diaries, which his son has been burrowing into, photocopies sent from Texas. The entry begins revealingly. Potter was self-conscious, self-aware and self-mocking; attractive characteristics: ‘1941. Ever since the ashtray broke when I looked at it, which happened to come soon after my shattering of the bathroom basin by dropping a glass on it, Priestley has talked about my “Pottergeist”.