In the Picture: Greg's train of thought

In a brief encounter, Greg Dyke, Director General of the BBC, reveals his aspirations for the Corporation.

We met on platform four at Darlington Station. Not for a romantic Brief Encounter, but to chat about one of the most famous brands in the world - the BBC.

Director General Greg Dyke was in the North-East to open a video journalism centre in Newcastle and new TV facility at Darlington College. It's a region where he spent his early working and studying life, as a journalist on a Newcastle morning newspaper and a politics student at York University.

Much has been made of Dyke's bullish manner during his years in both commerical and now public service broadcasting. So you don't expect to find him, unencumbered by minders (apart from a press officer) and drinking coffee out of a polystyrene cup on the platform. He can also, away from the London-led media circuit, pass unrecognised despite being the boss of one of the most powerful and influential organisations in the world.

He cheerfully talks of the big changes on Newcastle's Quayside and, when I mention I come from Watford, of how he was once sacked from that town's Marks & Spencer store. M&S's loss is the BBC's gain. His contempt for pomposity and the class system has been noted by others, and is reflected in his friendly, approachable attitude. If the BBC were looking for someone to bring a breath of fresh air to the musty old corridors of the corporation, you can't imagine anyone better than Dyke, or Dr Dyke as he is. He had the honour bestowed on him by York University after, as he puts it, he gave them lots of money.

Once aboard the train - I've been alloted the 30 minutes journey to York for the interview - it's down to business. Refreshingly, he doesn't resort to trotting out the same old cliches about public service broadcasting. Or, if he does, he makes them seem as good as new. Inevitably, he produces figures - cutting overheads has released £250m for programme making - to show he's not wasting licence money, but he has the ideas to go with them.

The phrase "man of the people" may be over-used and cliched, but he seems keen to listen to what both BBC staff and viewers have to say. After three-and-a-half years as Director General, it's appropriate to ask if he's happy with the way things are progressing. His answer refers back to a question, "How do you want it to feel?", he was asked on taking up the post: "I always said I want it to feel smaller because the bigger the organisation the harder to get their comradeship," he says.

He tells of a recent event, The Big Conversation, where they linked up the whole of the BBC and 1,200 people sat for two-and-a-half hours talking about the BBC. Setting up a management college is the result of feedback that staff don't, on the whole, feel they are very well led.

"One of the things I set myself was that I hope the BBC is a lot happier place when I leave than when I came," he says.

He accepts that he's in a no-win situation. Before he arrived, critics moaned that the BBC was in decline. Having delivered a slimmer workforce and bigger ratings, it's accused of being too big and too powerful. "It's the only job in the world where you get crap for winning and crap for losing," he says.

Being Director General is "bloody hard work". He was 56 this week and he doesn't expect to be there beyond 60. Before that he's leading the BBC Charter renewal campaign, which basically means it has to justify continuing with the licence fee. He agrees that this is something of a diversion from the business of running the BBC. "The real danger is that during the renewal period, the organisation stops looking at the audience and spends all its time looking at itself," he says.

"There's nothing wrong with, every ten years, thinking about who you are and what you are going to be, but not as a navel-gazing exercise. That would be disastrous because it will stop you looking outside.

"Only listening to the politicians or the decision-makers living in London is a real danger. One of the things I've done over the years is give the division we call Nations and Regions a lot more confidence and feel that it's valued, and put a lot more money out there. ITV was the regional system but can't afford to be now. Therefore, it's much more incumbent on the BBC to take its role outside London much more seriously."

His management style is to take bold decisions. The trouble with public sector organisations, he argues, is that they don't take risks. He calls himself a "perverse optimist", someone who doesn't weigh up the downside of something because he doesn't think there's going to be one. That may be because - as he suggests - he "made quite a lot of money before I came to the BBC, so I could leave" if it all went pear-shaped.

He owns up to the BBC making mistakes with programmes (Saturday night flop The Murder Game earns a mention), while sticking up for decisions, such as moving the evening news to 10pm, that were much criticised at the time but have worked out. A new BBC2 current affairs show and more arts programmes are seen as necessary future improvements, although he knows it would be a miracle if all departments hit their peak simultaneously. In drama, he's aware of hanging on to popular series too long at the expense of new ones.

Uppermost in his mind are viewers and listeners. Too much time is spent worrying about politicians and not the audience. "The BBC is not in decline, and audience appreciation has reached a record high over the past six years. They like what we're doing. That's not to say all our output is right. It's not. The challenge now is going up a gear in terms of programming," he says.

"The BBC is an interesting place because it's an organisation stuffed full of interesting people and if you can get them working in certain directions and together, you can achieve a lot."