SO the new hubba bubba has begun at Meeja Wales and, as had been predicted, it was pretty chaotic, though perhaps not as chaotic as was first anticipated. The main problem has been with people's phones being moved. Others have been unable to pick up calls coming to different numbers. Still, the Echo's special "Cardiff City reach the FA Cup final (I NEVER thought I would write those words)" special came out as planned. I also never considered my immense talents and skills would be utilised in collating the Echo letters page. Ow!
With things changing so rapidly, Friday night was the chance for everyone to get together for a "ring out the old, ring in the new" party. Kempy and the Robot had a joint leaving do and there was a huge gathering of past and future colleagues. It gave the Wonderful Withers the chance to whip out his camera and become Pap for the night, clicking off a number of pictures of the great and the good. Included in the rogues gallery was the Fabulous Baker Boy, who regaled us of wonderful tales from the crypt (or should I say the Sunday Peeps).
One of them included how he had to engage Brucie Forsythe in a 30-minute conversation as he tried to present the bon viveur with a mock front page to celebrate his 80th birthday. The problem came about because the photographer taking the pics couldn't get his camera to work. Sound familiar?
In the end Brucie could wait no longer. "Nice to see you... now f*** off!"
The Great Peter Corrigan, father of Coggsy, was also there in all his glory, telling stories of past days of greatness on the South Wales Eggo.
Wren came over for the night and I was told afterwards by all in sundry what a wonderful person she was, while others asked: what the hell is she doing with you? Nice.
Sunday was a lazy pre-hub day but at least I got a chance to throw the plastic around, buying numerous dvd's like the first series of Gavin and Stacey - a masterpiece - the fourth series of 24 and some other films that came highly recommended. I could be spending a few nights in - particularly as I have to get up by half past sparrow's fart every morning to work on the Evening rag.
At least on arrival this morning I was greeted with the sight of a Cadbury's Creme egg - a present from the editors to all our journos. It's all gone now.