Like so many of you, my experience of James Valentine was almost entirely through radio. I’m an ABC broadcaster in regional New South Wales, many hours drive from the Sydney studios where he conjured radio magic out of thin air every weekday and, as I’d sit in my studio preparing for my own show, I’d listen to Afternoons – a masterclass in quality talkback.

The thing I most admired was how comfortable James was with silence, secure enough to let a moment breathe where other announcers might rush to fill the air. He knew that it was in that space that a caller might land the killer line, or offer the surprisingly touching reveal. It’s been a huge influence on how I make radio.

At 2.55pm each day he would throw to my statewide Drive show and I would strive to bring something of that same spirit and generosity to my own listeners.

I find myself grieving him the same way his listeners are. He was someone who felt like a friend, because when a voice has kept you company every afternoon for years, friend is the only word that fits.

When the news broke on Thursday that James had died, something struck me about the outpouring that followed. The public grief was real and enormous but it kept giving way to joy, to moments of hilarity that had stayed with listeners for years. If you were lucky enough to hear the tribute put together........

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