I'm sure there are all manner of excellent reasons for the move, just as there are for vacating Television Centre. But I can't help feeling, just a little, that something else rather special has been lost.
Knowing it was about to shut its doors forever I tried to have a snoop around earlier this year. I was very polite but the burly men in uniform on the reception desk were having none of it.
'There is an open day, once every year' said one with what I initially thought was a smile. 'You should come to that.'
'Excellent!' I said. 'When is it?'
'Er... July,' he smirked.
'Yeah. You missed the last one last year.'
But soft! What light from yonder window breaks?' There may be hope yet, in the form of an online auction. You see, the Beeb is selling off the contents of Bush House lock, stock and revolving turntable and there's a chance for prospective buyers to book an appointment to view the lots. In truth I'm unlikely to make it before the auction closes on July 27th (bidding opens tomorrow) so the closest I'm going to get to this little bit of broadcasting history is my vain entreaties with the guards in the Bush House lobby combined with my almost nightly listening in the small hours, lying in bed and imagining the lives being lived in the exotic places where the other 160 million regular listeners are hearing the words I'm hearing.
So I was keen, for old times sake (over 70 years of them, containing the likes of George Orwell, Charles de Gaul, and Paul McCartney to name but three) to listen in today to the final ever moments to be uttered from those hallowed portals. If you missed this little piece of radio history, here it is taken 'off air' as it happened:
It's hardly likely to make the top ten archive broadcasts of all time, but it is in its own small way, history. As, now, is Bush House - at least as far as the BBC is concerned.
And so, it seems, is Lillibullero. I really thought I'd hear that strange, archaic jingle as they faded out from Bush House for the last time. But no. As a station ident it seems to have been replaced by a rather bland chord sequence over which people recite 'BeeBeeCee' in a variety of foreign accents.
All rather strange. But then so, in its way, was Lillibullero - an odd song about Irish nationalist ambitions and hardly the stuff of nations speaking 'peace unto nation(s)'. But a comforting tune to millions in its World Service incarnation, over many decades and in hundreds of distant lands. If they won't play out with it, I will...