London Calling
"Where are you calling from?" asked Mrs Z.
"I'm standing on the Star Terrace at Television Centre," I told her, "and I'm looking straight across at that bit of the building you always see on the telly."
"Oh. What's that like?"
"To be honest, " I said, "The building reminds me of my old comprehensive school. It has that sixties look about it. Tiled exterior wall. Windows wedged open by books. Flaking paintwork. Seen better days really."
"You've just been spoiled by Pacific Quay," said Mrs Z. She's probably right. What am I saying? She's always right.
Along the road at White City and the Media Centre, things are very much in the 21st Century. Even the tea-bar feels like something out of a science fiction movie, with TV pictures being screened onto a huge split globe in which you can sit and have creative meetings.
I was actually between two such meetings so I took the opportunity to pop up to the offices of Ariel - the Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú staff newspaper - and introduce myself to reporter Laura Scarrot. She recognised me immediately, she said, because she reads this blog.
"You're just back from France aren't you?" said Laura.
"Er...no, you must have been reading someone else's blog."
"Oh. Maybe I was."
So fickle, these Beeb people.
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