So here am I, barging back into your life after a radio silence of almost two months, without so much as a word of explanation. Rest assured I'll bore you with many of those over the coming weeks and months (essentially just busy times at work to blame). But now, onward...

Today marks an important personal anniversary for me; if it's not seven years since the actual conception of my broadcasting career, it's certainly seven years since the foreplay began.

I remember the morning of July 4th 2000 very well. For a start, I'd made the very bold exception of missing the opening few minutes of Wake Up to Wogan; knowing me at 17, probably for the first time in years. Instead, at precisely 0734 (keen by a minute), I arrived at the Hallam Street entrance to Broadcasting House in London, on a promise of this:

It's not my back you see, but that of the great Alan Dedicoat, chief announcer of Radio 2, and the well chosen recipient of a letter from a dear school friend of mine, begging a chance for me to visit the radio station I loved best. Busying myself with exam stress, I knew nothing of the letter until the shock arrival of an email, purporting to be from one of my great radio idols, offering "lunch and a look round... If you pass".

(I gathered a few well observed special requests had probably been made by my friend, as there was also mention that I'd "probably get to see Ken Bruce".)

Nervously suppressing his over-enthusiasm, 17-year old Sheppard proudly announced his appointment to see the Voice of the Balls, and like a grown up, was invited to call the internal number himself. Like a proper anorak, I still remember it.

I spent the early part of the morning with Deadly in Studio 1D, watching his side of the notorious exchanges with Wogan and Walters, and soaking up every detail. I even got to wiggle my first fader - the one for Studio 1F, then Ken Bruce's studio - at 0930, to a fanfare from Wogan on the off-air studio talkback, saying he "liked the lights"...

I was soon whisked upstairs to Studio 1J to meet Wogan and Walters in person, receiving the characteristically warm welcome that made me feel like the interesting one. And, above and beyond in true Dedicoat style, I not only got to meet Ken Bruce, but sat with him for the final chunk of his show.

"17 years, of Ruscombe in Berkshire?", he asked, on being introduced. It was how I signed my letters to the show.

I didn't win the 'Headline Hunt' that day.

It's exactly seven years since I decided a career in radio needn't be just a dream. Everything I'd seen had confirmed that what you hear on the radio is real; somewhere, albeit in strange dark rooms, there are real people making the stuff. Human beings, and some very decent ones at that. Why shouldn't I be amongst them?

Seven years on, I still struggle to believe it earns me a living. So did my Bank Manager for a while; but it now does, just. I now spend more of my time in studios than I do in my bed, and yet it's all still every bit as entrancing as it was seven years ago. It's a fine career, but it'll never be work.

Speaking of careers, I'm pleased to say that my parallel role in the bus industry became official at the beginning of the month: I'm now Transport Manager to ThisBus.com, the fully licensed operating wing of the Broadcasters' Bus Consortium. My business partners and I will soon be hiring out the Routemaster for weddings, day trips and the like, a fact cannily picked up on in this piece from the Daily Express a couple of weeks ago:

Wonder what David Sheppard, 17 years, of Ruscombe in Berkshire, would have made of that?