hearing her voice again. And if I fell asleep sad and alone and frightened I knew that I would wake up in the morning to the sound of her voice and everything would be OK again.  Suddenly night time held no fear for me. I listened to her every morning for eight years. A lot of things changed over that time, but she stayed pretty much the same.  She was a constant source of stability in my life. A reference point for my happiness. Sometimes she would go on holiday and I wouldn't know what to do.  The man who replaced her seemed like a nice chap but he wasn't her.  I always felt he tried a bit too hard to be funny, and he seemed much more interested in flirting with the lady listeners than talking to me. When she was off, night time became difficult again.  I would struggle to sleep and sometimes morning could feel like an eternity away. When she came back it was such a relief.  I would listen to the stories she would tell about her holidays and I'd be happy that she had fun, but deep down I always felt a bit betrayed that she had gone off and left me in such a state while she was enjoying herself. Then one day she said she had another announcement to make. She was leaving the Breakfast Show, she said.  Only this time she wasn't just leaving the show, she was leaving the radio