Leicester-born Tony Elsby trained as a journalist with the Leicester Mercury and was later sports editor of two Leicestershire weeklies.
He gained a broad spectrum of experience on local, regional and national newspapers including the Peterborough Evening Telegraph, Nuneaton Tribune, Sunday Sport and Birmingham Post & Mail in such roles as reporter, feature writer, investigative and specialist columnist, and sub editor. He recently enjoyed a season as editor of the website, Vitalfootball Leicester City.
A keen sportsman Tony played, managed and coached in part-time professional football, was three times Northamptonshire County Squash Champion and long time county captain, later becoming a successful county, regional and national level coach, concluding with a tour preparing players, teams and coaches in Holland, France, Switzerland and Italy.
He ghost wrote the column of 1975 British Open squash champion Qamar Zaman for Squash Player International magazine and was privileged to play against both Zaman and the legendary Jonah Barrington, six times British Open champion.
Since running his own squash complex at Overstone, Northamptonshire, Tony has been an antiques dealer, auctioneer, and is now an increasingly wincing market trader, whose knees constantly complain about years of playing sport and standing for so long on unforgiving concrete. Ouch!
Married with three grown-up sons, he’s a keen but “sightseeing” golfer, long-suffering Leicester City fan and devotee of a certain Belgian honey beer, two pints of which, he says, have the effect of making lamp-posts look attractive and the wallet look empty! .
Readings, and “An Evening With” sessions undertaken with pleasure
http: //tonyelsby.com/
No journey would be too long,
No effort would be too great,
No call would go unheard,
No sadness would remain uncomforted,
...
One day I sat on Santa's knee,
And he asked me what I'd like
If perhaps I wanted football boots,
Or a brand-new two-wheeled bike,
...
She rode it through the city street,
In a mask to fight the smog,
Slower than a motor car,
But faster than policeman plod.
...
Would that I could walk with you,
Along some distant seashore,
Leaving only footprints
To mark our passing
...