Quite a week.

Monday and Tuesday, updates. Wednesday, former Chief Commissioner of Police Christine Nixon was in the witness stand at the Bushfires Royal Comission, recalled to explain her patchy evidence from last week. Turns out she left emergency HQ to go to dinner with frinds at a pub in North Melbourne. Steve Carey sends me in to replace poor Lundy, who would have done an excellent job, but doesn't have my experience in the Commission (plus Steve wants what he calls "a heavy hitter", which is flattering).

Counsel Assisting, Rachel Doyle SC, fairly shredded Nanna. I have covered a lot of legal proceedings, featuring some masterful lawyers, but rarely have I heard myself involuntarily gasping at the audacity of the questioning (and the incompetence of the responses).

Intriguing, though, that Doyle SC left unexplored two parts of Nixon's Black Saturday that weren't detailed. A 90 minute slot from 9.30am and another period spent in her office from 1.30pm - both described simply as "personal business". The first seemed likely to be a hair appointment. (Subsequent video examination of Nanna's hair before and after Black Saturday added weight to this theory)

I was allowed 3 and a half minutes for the story - what a luxury. Plus a live cross from the VPC. Great feedback from colleagues.

Thursday, a Nixon follo, with grabs from a range of stakeholders telling of their disappointment. Thursday evening, we shot the first part of a story about a restarateur being forced out of his Southgate premises by the redevelopment of the Arts Centre.

Friday, I put together the Arts Centre story although I won't be able to get a cmment from them on-camera til tomorrow. Then! at 5.20pm, a phone call to the news desk from Nixon's advisers. She will hold a media conference at 6pm.

We scramble to get there through Friday night traffic, not really believing that she'll resign after toughing it out for two weeks, but puzzling over what else she could want to say. We find a park, run across Collins St and into the foyer of No. 55. A news crew and reporter from Seven is already there among a throng of media. This leaves me free to cross into the bulletin from the forecourt outside. We only have one portable microwave link, so we can't switch live from me to the media conference. It has to be one or the other.

Nixon is yet to appear. The crew throws a live link together in seconds flat. We are still hooking up as Mitch begins his throw. I explain that we haven't been told what the announcement will be, and that we'll cross back as soon as any firm details emerge. Behind me, camera flashes can be seen. Nixon has begun the news conference.

I race back inside and pick up the key points: she was at the hairdressers, then meeting with her biographer in the afternoon. But she had capable people doing the hands-on work and was contactable at all times. And she won't be resigning.

Why has she called us at 6pm on a Friday to let us know these details? Because, as we discover later, the Herald Sun was planning to tell us the next morning.

I run back outside ready to relay the news but the link fails and we have to wait another minute or two. I complete the cross by topping and tailing a couple of grabs of Nanna. I don't stumble over my words, despite, or perhaps because of the pumping adrenalin.

Back inside, a few more lines from Nixon and she withdraws. Another cross to me just before weather. This one is the neatest of all. I sum up, throw to an appropriate grab, and sign off. Forty seconds, as requested. Text messages and phone calls congratulating me - very gratifying indeed.

Now that is News. Like it used to be.