Although the building has been here much longer than any of us, it's the last 30 years -- all right then, 28 and a half -- that is our real concern tonight. Those years have seen a lot of changes -- in the occupants, in the house, in the world we live in -- but from its ramshackle hippy commune beginnings to its perhaps nearly as ramshackle end, this place has remained a steady focal point in the turbulence of most of our lives: home, at one time or other, for many; and even for those who never lived here, still somewhere anchored, reliable; somewhere important; somewhere with meaning.

I am biased, of course, as one product of the social experiment this place (among other things) represents. I spent most of my formative years here, in the company of you all at one time or another. I count you -- and so many others who wandered through -- as my extended family; and that is a great privilege. I am -- and we are -- part of the fabric here. Perhaps that doesn't count for much in the grand scheme of things, but it means a lot to me, and I suspect it means something to you too.

Pyrland Road is an institution, a nexus of so many lives over so many years. It has been significant, one way or another, for everyone here tonight, and to plenty more besides. Its passing is the end of an era, one that will be sorely missed. I'm not sure I'll know what to do without it, and I am sure I'm not the only one who feels that way.

But it is the duty of eras to end.

We will all, of course, move on. There will be other addresses, other foci, other stories to come. We'll find and constantly remake our extended families and our homes. And this house will go on too, to be the core of some other -- albeit less sprawling and ad hoc -- albeit less exciting -- family. That's all for tomorrow, and we won't know how it will play out until we live it.

But for tonight, for one last (and probably, since we tend not to think of these things until they're going, first) time, I give you: Lesley and Mandy and Peter and Tierl and Nicky and Sara and Judi and Gill and -- well, basically, all who sail in her. Let us drink to them, and us, and to the random geographical location that binds us all together.

Cheers.