Former editor Jackie Fowle has fond memories of her time at the paper. During the 1970s and 1980s, she worked in various roles, including those of junior reporter, sub-editor and editor. Here she tells her story.

I was 17 when I joined in 1969 at the premises in Railway Road, Sheerness, as the lowliest person on its payroll - a very junior, wet-behind-the-ears reporter.

The editorial office overlooked the railway line, by which there were piles of coal and a tethered goat.

We in editorial would sometimes watch the trains hurtling in to the end-of-the-line station and I remember saying: "One day, one of those trains is not going to stop."

That pessimistic prophecy came true in 1971 when a woman died when Sheerness experienced its very own train crash.

There was an extraordinary sight of a train sticking upwards out of the station frontage.

It must have happened on a Thursday night, because Thursday was the STG's press day, and we had just printed a paper.

But we rushed out a special train crash edition, using the paper that had just been printed as a base and changing the front and possibly some inside pages.

Although I was too inexperienced to be involved in the coverage of that event, I remember Lynn Johnson, a senior reporter, did an excellent job.

It was in the days of hot metal printing, and there was a big melting pot which provided the metal for use in the linotype setting machines.

I remember dedicated printers, loyal to the company, who in turn benefited from the bosses taking an interest in their personal lives.

The press manager, who I remember as Norman, was in charge of the press, which I think was a Goss.

One press night Norman had an accident, trapping his finger in the machinery of the press, and it seemed to me his finger was hanging off.

But although urged to go to casualty to have the wound stitched, Norman insisted on completing the press run before finally giving in and going to hospital.

A couple of days a week Conservative councillor Bill Rule would come in and write his sports copy by hand.

I met my husband Roger working at Newspaper House; Peter Coleman met his wife Maggie working at Newspaper House and I believe another reporter married someone from advertising there. Carole Sayer met her future husband at a Times Guardian event.

In their way, the Colemans were expansionists, as they bought the Faversham News, then at its base in Court Street, Faversham, where I believe there was an old flat-bed press, a piece suitable for a museum today.

I enjoyed some time there as district editor, until I became pregnant with my son Mark.

I abandoned work for motherhood - but not for long, as the Colemans then decided to launch the Sittingbourne News Extra in Sittingbourne - where Roger and I lived.

They could not afford an office, so we offered them the use of our telephone and house as a kind of base. I did some leg work building up contacts by pushing my pram around the town and meeting people.

At that time, Geof Malone, a friend of Peter Coleman, was also involved with the launch of the Extra.

Later, when I had two children, I was given the chance to become editor of the Sheerness Times Guardian, when Peter and Maggie were thinking of escaping abroad and leaving the paper ticking over in trusted hands.

So I accepted, although I knew it would be a demanding task, not only involving the layout and subbing of the papers, but also an ambassadorial role.

My first front page involved a couple of youngsters getting stuck on the cliffs at Warden Bay, I recall. I was new to the business of writing a comment, and have to admit I alienated all the teachers in the area with some harsh criticism.

But now I am older and wiser, I appreciate how tough a job teaching must be.

I did not want instability for my sons, so chose to resign from the job of editor to look after them.

I felt the paper wasn't missing much if I resigned, after all I had alienated the teachers and probably made other mistakes. And one job I could do well was be a mother.

Quite soon after, I heard that the Kent Messenger Group had taken over the papers.

Duncan Marsh, who was brought in as editor of the STG, rang me up, saying: "Do you fancy a trip down memory lane?"

I accepted part-time work as a sub-editor and later joined a desk at the KM's Larkfield base, but working as a sub-editor only during school hours so as to be able to meet my son from school.

I did make it to the heady heights of chief sub of the KM at one stage, when my children were grown up. Until recently I was a part-time sub on the Larkfield production desk (but still secretly think the STG is my paper).