End of an era

We're hurtling through Hertfordshire on our way to Thaxted. Nathan is off to Europe, specifically Holland, again tomorrow, and we're staying with the parents in an attempt to make the shit o'clock plane pill that little bit easier to swallow.

I've just been to the leaving do of a colleague at the BBC. He opted to have his party at television centre on what appears to be the very last day of activity in that hallowed place. Another party, a much bigger one, was being held simultaneously in one of the television studios. This one was expected to be a star-studded and highly boozy event. Everyone wanted to go to the extent that 4000 BBC staff members went into a lottery for 1000 places. I've no doubt that it will end with the entire building being looted by drunken people looking for souvenirs. I kept looking out of a window to see them setting up an enormous band stand in the car park. The thing I found most distressing was the sight of a giant letter C - mounted on a white cube - being slowly separated from two enormous letter Bs. A physical representation of the BBC being torn apart.

The whole place was buzzing, but make no mistake, this is the absolute end of an era. We've known it was coming for some time, but this genuinely is the wrap party for a British institution. Sometimes change for the sake of change makes me feel very sad.