I'm writing this on the plane. Nice is one of my favourite cities, with a setting that has the best of both the mountains and the sea. I've spent happy times there, but my mind is once again drawn to that week in London, almost exactly eleven years ago, when the atmosphere changed from jubilant to terrified.
My Nanna was very worried for her sons, and it took an awfully long time to find out if they were okay (they had tried to phone as soon as possible, but every phonebox from Sheffield to Manchester had a queue). Eventually, word came through that they were, having been in the fateful Leppings Lane end where the crush happened.
I managed to grab a word with a few famous faces at the start. Chris Evans was playing it exceptionally cool, while Judge Rob Rinder was casually talking of going sub-three hours. Sprinter Iwan Thomas was a ball of energy. It was rather bizarre to bump into MP Simon Danczuk, who's been suspended by the Labour party, along with his estranged wife Karen.
With the exception of the increasingly deranged Hilton, most of the people in the house are pretty normal, and I never thought I'd say that about Calum Best. But if the programme can't keep hold of its guests long enough to evict them, then the public doesn't get its say and that's not the premise of Big Brother.