A few months ago a rather special present arrived on my 80th birthday, my final day as film critic of the Observer. It was a small, lined notebook, seven by four-and-a half inches. On the first page was a drawing of the matinee idol Clive Brook under the title "Film Criticisms 1932". It had been sent from south London by the 97-year-old Zoë Di Biase. She'd been a regular Observer reader since the age of 18, she said, and this was a gift to mark my retirement. "I've always enjoyed the cinema and you were a great follow-on to CA Lejeune," she wrote, referring to my predecessor who was this paper's critic from 1928 to 1960. "Turning out the other day,
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