I've had three significant women in my life - a brunette, a blonde and a red-head. All have been very influential unions. I suppose my first time doing it was the hardest - how to pace it; how to compliment her; how to look. You see, she'd got a head-start on experience. Well, that relationship ended and I moved on to the blonde, and then I was asked to try the red-head.

Sorry Ed, What did you say? The editor's shouting at me... Oh no, nothing like that. Oops, gosh heavens, apologies. I should make it clear that I'm talking about the women with whom I've PRESENTED. OK? Judith, Sally (she's in the south, so you northerners won't know her), and now Firsby.

TV unions - I've had a few!

You see, they're in my mind because my first and lasting partnership with Judith came up last weekend, during an horrendous journey. I was trying to reach the Sheffield Wednesday v Southampton match - being played in Southampton. England were also playing France in the Five Nations and Newcastle United were down in London, so the train to King's Cross was sardine-like, even the standing room was taken. It was also half an hour late as it set off....

We arrived even later than the 'late' schedule - probably the wrong type of fans on the track. A mad dash across London to Waterloo saved me a few minutes, but all was truly in vain as I had to sit for another 45, three miles from Southampton station as the conked-out train in front of mine was removed....

Life can be more than frustrating at times and as I contemplated my by-now ultra-boring navel, someone spoke to me. If I can just set a little more of the scene for you. On one side, I had 20 red-wigged schoolgirls distraught because they should have been inside the Southampton theatre happily watching Annie (hence the wigs). On the other were at least 20 distraught, fully-grown men desperate to get to the Southampton game and all wearing Number 7 shirts (Le Tissier fans, poor things).

And now, I can return to my opening tale because, as I lifted my eyes to talk to whoever was there, the three women of television flashed in front of me.

It was the first boss I'd ever had in the BBC. Visions cluttered my mind of stern reprimands when my football commentary had got rather opinionated, or my jibes at Judith hadn't been acceptable to Mrs Longjaw of Cleckheaton. I felt life had at last delivered me the one image to keep me going. Remembered for all his wise and authoritative musings he may have been, but now, dressed in a red wig and clutching an 'Annie' doll and T-shirt, I felt I might just get through the day.

But as we finally left the train with echoes of the Citizen Charter in my ear, a waft of disappointment fluttered over me. There, at the front of the exodus was my old boss, holding the tiny hand of a little girl.

So, the red wig had really been for her...

26/03/99

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.