A Last Christmas at Chrysalis

14/12/2007 01:48am

I’m moved to blog now, because I’ve had a bit to drink and I've just got back from my last Chrysalis Radio works Christmas party in Birmingham. Or not Chrysalis Radio, but the company that took them – us – over.

All of the Arrow staff and presenters have been made redundant with a weeks’ notice and on Saturday I’ll record my last ever Arrow radio show. And I suppose I’m moved to write because I think it is the last time I shall see many of those people I was with tonight and the night was quite nice - apart from the end. The bash was a free bar and nice finger food and as always, I was struck by the youth and beauty of most of my colleagues. It's ironic that the venue for this last bash is the very same venue where I attended my first Chrysalis radio party some 6 years ago. Many of the regular radio people working on the other stations are sympathetic about the Arrow's mass sacking, particularly as some of the people who have been laid off were the talented management that established the other Chrysalis radio brands in the first place. Some of my Arrow colleagues won’t go to the party because it’s too painful. But I tell myself I have the theatre and I should be magnanimous.

I spend some time talking to a lovely bloke who looks about 12 and does the drive time show on the top youth brand radio station in the Midlands, even though the station plays R&B and he used to work at a rock station. Right on cue, he freaks out and rushes to the dance floor when the party DJ plays Nirvana.

The night finishes and we all move to the main street from the venue and, although we talk loudly about maybe going on somewhere else, it’s not really going to happen for me. So I say good bye and walk to the street. I see a cab and the cabbie opens the window. I tell him where I want to go and he waves me in. As we move off I look up and I see the 12 year old R&B DJ with a girl whose name I don’t know, although she was at the party and looks very pretty, with a long dress and a thin black hair band. I smile at him. He’s obviously looking for a cab too, because he looks at me outside the roadside door and I hear him say, “How did you get in this cab?” We’re moving off, so I think about asking him where he wants to go and maybe we can share. But as I think about gesturing to them and asking the driver to wait, sweet young girl looks at me.

“You smug, fat, fucking wanker”, she intones with a snarl on her face, and flicks me the fingers. My smile freezes. It’s horrible and then we’re gone. I don’t know why I find it so upsetting. I don't know her and I'm assuming she's very drunk. But she doesn't know me either. Maybe it’s a lesson in real life. I’m trying to be nice and honourable about a company that’s just sacked a whole radio station for the bottom line. More profit. Maybe the incident reminds me how fickle some people can generally be. It feels brutal and a mass sacking is brutal too. End of careers. On the scrap heap. How can that girl be so abusive to someone who’s invested so much time in her profession? I imagine, although I think its fancy, that 12 year old turns round and says “Take it easy. He’s a nice bloke that’s been made redundant and why should you feel so much anger about him being in a taxi? There are more taxis to come and we’re trying to cheat anyway by jumping in from the middle of the road”. But I doubt he will.

Around round the corner we stop at traffic lights and I see my boss walking down the deserted street. He cuts a lonely figure and I think about winding the window down and asking him if he needs a lift or wants to share the taxi, although we don’t live near each other. He’s a hugely talented radio programmer and manager, now out of a job too. But I’ve fastened my seat belt and can’t reach the window easily. And maybe he feels like the walk? After all, he’s been full time at the station for some thirteen years of his life. What if he needs some time on his own? I hesitate. That's rubbish. I should just undo the seat belt, wind down the window and see if he wants a lift. But then the lights change and it’s too late. I guiltily watch his retiring back. But then I think, after the incident with the sweet young girl, maybe I’ve been too honourable about too much shite already. And maybe it’s time for me to allow myself to feel put upon and a bit sad and a bit angry and look after number one for a while. So I banish all thoughts of guilt and stare ahead into the dark, cold night and allow the taxi to whisk me home to my new, radio-less life.