Our mate Moods.

How do you go on and broadcast when you've lost a great broadcaster?

How do you pay tribute to a man who was a legend behind the mic, from behind your own?

Graeme Moody once, during a rugby commentary had all his gear give up on him. He broadcast an entire Wellington Lions home game from a cellphone, when the battery in it gave up, without missing a beat, he grabbed another one, put the first one on charge and carried on.

Yet, now that we have lost him, I am struggling to do anything more than sit next to his desk thinking about what an awesome guy that he was.

We gave each other shit. Relentless shit. We both preferred the same cubicle and there was much glee if he, or I beat the other to be the first to use it at 5 o'clock.

The 5 O'Clock Club. Us who get here at 5am every morning, me, Camille, Polly and Grant down the hall, Katrina in news, Marras in Traffic, various others, depending on the day of the week. And Moods.

I saw his arse once.

Graeme used to bike to work from Miramar. Every day, rain or shine, he was a very fit man, his muscles were huge! We used to joke about how everyone had to step to the side because Moods had his guns out. After sports bullies, the running gag was that he'd get on his bike and whip up to Levin and back for fun.

It was a rainy day, and his spot for changing out of his bike shorts was his little studio, and often, if you timed it right, or wrong, you saw his arse as he got into proper pants.

I sat by his desk for a time today. I wanted to be where my strongest memories of him are. Him, chucking shit with his mischievous grin.

He surfed. A lot. He loved the ocean. I'm not sure if it's a blessing or not, but he was surfing when he was taken from us.

Here's the news story from this morning.

Bev is his wife, they didn't have kids, there was a sadness there because he was such a father figure in our building and today, we grieve.