Last Saturday, I attended a retirement bash at The Grand in Clitheroe. I was expecting it to be one of those tedious, formal affairs and I, at least, half expected a dusty old man, in a grey suit, to present the victim with a mantelpiece clock and for everyone to sit down to eat a big plate of rubber chicken.

It was not like that. In fact, in the modern way, it was a surprise party. Presumably in order to shock the victim into moistening her handkerchief, we were all sitting silently, in the pitch black when she arrived but, though we burst into applause at the appropriate moment, she dealt with the situation with natural aplomb.

There was much that was unexpected for me. The food was delectable, I bumped into many friends and, even by the high standards of Clitheroe, the ladies were a delight.

At the junior end, my colleague Faiza Afzaal was a picture. Local businesswoman, Jooles Walsh was stunning. She confused me by saying she was going to hit a half century on Thursday. I naturally assumed she was predicting that one of her tribe of admirers planned to buy her 50 long-stemmed red roses for her 21st birthday today but, unaccountably, she told me I was mistaken. And then there was our mayoress, Phillipa Hill. What can one say about perfection?

The party was to celebrate the career of the former editor of this newspaper, Vivien Meath, who has just taken very early retirement.

We are all fortunate she is so persistent. At 16, when she first sought a job as a journalist, she was rejected for having committed the cardinal sin of being born a girl, but she would not take no for an answer and broke down the barrier.

The staff made a video of her career which we watched, with rapt attention, and offered a speech of thanks. It was entirely free of platitude and told the story of a woman who loves the English language, who loves disseminating the truth, who loves Clitheroe and the Ribble Valley and who loves – and therefore enforced – the highest standards of journalism.

John Lancaster spoke movingly of her attachment to the truth and how she had nursed him through the attentions of the national media at the critical moments of his career.

His speech echoed around the room, in private conversations, and it became clear that, just as the staff loved her for imposing the highest of standards, those about whom she had had to write loved her for precisely the same reason. We are all privileged to have been touched by her career and Roy Prenton has a very hard act to follow.

And then her husband Michael gave us a story to treasure. Next time you meet Vivien, don't let her lock you in the lavatory!