NEWS At Ten was screened for the final time last night. After 32 years it was a national institution which will be sorely missed by thousands of viewers as well as the people who worked on it. Newscaster Carol Barnes, who lives in Roedean, worked on the programme in the Eighties. Here she recalls some of the most memorable moments on and off screen.

A JOVIAL figure in tennis kit walked into ITN with me on my first day as a reporter for News At Ten. "What ho," he said. "Just won 6-2, 6-0." The face was familiar - good God, it was Reggie Bosanquet!

Does he usually play tennis on duty? I asked someone on the newsdesk. "Only when he hasn't had too good a lunch," was the reply. And that was my first glimpse behind the scenes of News At Ten.

Reggie and Andrew Gardner were the newscasters back in 1976, both larger than life characters, working hard and playing hard - particularly Reggie!

Iremember being quite overawed and overcome by the fact that I had finally achieved my ambition for several years - to work alongside people such as these.

Of course, Reggie could take things to excess. On one occasion he was mid-bulletin when the studio cameraman noticed him slipping slowly to one side after a lunch which had gone on to early evening drinks.

The loyal cameraman angled his camera in the same direction until someone crawled along the floor behind the desk and propped poor Reggie up again.

Reggie was unique and somehow got away with it. Of course, it's all very different now.

When I started newscasting on News At Ten, Sandy Gall and Alastair Burnet were my partners. Anna Ford, a good friend, had left and I took her place.

Alastair had a formidable intellect, while Sandy was the consummate gentleman and diplomat.

He'd answer the phone and say: "Hi, Zia old boy. I'm sure I could fit in a spot of golf before News At Ten." He was speaking to the then leader of Pakistan.

Both he and Alastair were great to work with: Alastair for his great fund of knowledge, Sandy for his sense of fun, and being slightly in another world. After the programme we'd always go up to the bar and have several drinks to unwind.

But if News At Ten sounds like a permanent party, nothing could be further from the truth. There was a tremendous sense of awe as the programme broke the news on any number of stories and as a newscaster I was always aware there were up to ten million people watching.

Iwas on duty throughout the Gulf War, when my then husband was a cameraman in Kuwait filming with the British Army. Every day was a day which could have brought bad news for me personally. It was both stressful and emotional reading the news throughout that period.

Perhaps the toughest story to read for me personally, however, was the story of a hospice full of dying children. It brought a lump to my throat because I thought of my own two, back at home safely tucked up in bed.

And the day Princess Diana died was something else. The whole News At Ten team was just as shocked as everyone else, but had to go about the business of bringing the news to the country as well.

It was quite bewildering for me. I knew the princess quite well (she had sent me a congratulations telegram on the birth of my son, and we had met at lunch subsequently). So to reel from the shock of her death and report on it at the same time was a very odd experience.

But the sad moments were frequently matched by something bordering on hilarity, particularly over communications between the newscaster and the director in the gallery behind the studio, transmitted via an earpiece.

On one famous occasion, Alastair Burnet was interviewing a cardinal. The director asked him, via the earpiece, to ask the cardinal to move to his left. Alastair couldn't hear, but for some reason everyone else in the studio could.

She asked again "get the cardinal to move left, please". Still Alastair didn't hear. "Tell the fat bastard in the purple frock to move to his left," she fairly yelled. The cardinal looked up. "Does she mean me?" he asked.

Like many people I'll sorely miss News At Ten - for me it's part of my life, something I've grown up with. Now long live the 6.30 - and who knows, in 30 years' time, someone may be reminiscing about that!

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.