Green Thoughts Then White City
How strange to be driving across the Erskine Bridge this morning with no toll barriers at the other end. I felt a bit guilty at not having to hand over my coins to the collectors in their little booths. And even more guilty listening to Gary Robertson's callers on Morning Extra as he asked how far we're prepared to go to pursue an environmentally friendly lifestyle. One man described how he was buying a windmill and solar panels for his home. I, on the other hand, was heading for the airport where a fuel-burning, ozone munching jet would take me to Heathrow.
After my last trip to London one diary reader suggested I should travel by train instead. I investigated this and it turned out to be a more expensive option because it entailed an overnight stay. However, these green thoughts were in my mind when I reached the airport and bought a newspaper. I refused the offer of a plastic bag to go with it. Best I could do. Sorry.
I got to the Ö÷²¥´óÐã Media Centre at White City way too early for my meeting with the other Heads of Radio, so sauntered around the foyer looking at an exhibition of paintings, each portraying a former Director General. They all looked pretty chuffed with themselves, I have to say, and I soon turned my attention to an adjoining exhibit which told the stories of various colourful characters in the Ö÷²¥´óÐã's history. It was good to see a photograph of the late and much lamented Kenny McIntyre, former political correspondent for Ö÷²¥´óÐã Scotland. The accompanying text told how he was once refused an interview by Prime Minister John Major. As the PM walked away. Kenny had shouted after him "I hope your cricket team gets gubbed" . Major heard this, laughed and returned to give the interview.
I looked at my watch and realised I had better head up to the meeting room. This was given as room MC4 B2M1. This not-so snappy name is like a secret code, but easy to crack. You have to go to the fourth floor of the Media Centre (MC4) and then section B1 of the open plan office area and look for Meeting Room 1 (M1). Peasy. I got in the lift, pressed for level four, got out, wandered past a life-size Dalek and opened the door of the meeting room. There were two people inside the room who, judging from their startled expressions, shouldn't have been there. They apologised and made a hasty exit. The table was strewn with tea-cups and glass tumblers from a previous meeting so I made myself useful by tidying-up. This took a good five minutes and when I sat down I was still alone and beginning to suspect all was not well. Perhaps the meeting had been cancelled. Perhaps I had deliberately been told to go to the wrong room so that everyone else could gossip about me behind my back. Then I thought about the Dalek. I hadn't seen that on the fourth floor before. Hear that metallic noise? It's a penny dropping.
I raced from the first floor, back into the lift and, this time, made sure it disgorged me three floors higher. I was cheered by the site of Susan Lovell, Head of Radio Ulster, hovering outside the door of the correct meeting room. We arrived together, five minutes late, but still in time to watch the usual antics as a PowerPoint presentation was being installed.
A good meeting, chaired by the Director of Nations & Regions, Pat Loughrey. We discussed the implications of the last week's Creative Future announcements. At the risk of sounding like a man from the Stone Age, I argued that we shouldn't get carried away with new technology. I wondered aloud what we would be saying about radio if it had only just been invented.
"Just think...it's a real-time platform able to respond to events as they actually happen. You don't even have to download the programmes You just switch it on and you have immediate audio...amazing."
This got a few laughs but I might not have to worry about losing my way in the Media Centre next month. I probably wont be invited. Unless they need someone to clear the plates.
