Archie Christie was bold and brash and as loud as ever.

You always know when he’s around and Wednesday lunchtime was no different. A one-man Tour de Force blowing across the bar.

We were sat in a corner table of the Cedar Court Hotel – or Archie Towers as it became known by staff both at the club and working in reception.

The hotel at the end of the M606 had been Christie’s home twice a week for nearly six months.

He was part of the furniture; a very vocal, outgoing sofa of a presence.

A permanent guest who was even willing to help the staff on occasion and throw out the odd boozy straggler if required. A Tony Soprano character sprawled out in City polo shirt, mismatching shorts and flip flops.

But there was something else about our meeting.

Behind the forceful phone manner with agents, the winding up of the bar staff and the cringe-worthy gags, I sensed that something maybe wasn’t quite right.

We spoke about the influx of players that he had brought to Valley Parade. How pleased he was to see Ritchie Jones establish himself in the fulcrum of the midfield; how convinced he was that Mark Stewart and Chris Mitchell would still prove their worth given the opportunity.

He talked of the hush-hush offer of a new senior role to become the football chief executive officer and the increase in power that would entail.

Then he introduced me to another potential acquisition from Brazil and reminded the young player that he had to finish breakfast by 9.15am. “And drink lots of water. You’ll need it …”

I assumed this was business as usual for the man of many titles and positions.

A day just like any other, talking to anyone who wanted to listen and maybe a few – like the businessman he reprimanded for putting his feet on a nearby table – who didn’t.

But Christie seemed a little pre-occupied; a bit distant even when eagerly describing the Youtube footage of the striker he wanted to sign. Something was gnawing away.

The following day, of course, we discovered what it was. Christie and Bradford City had gone their separate ways.

It’s not the first time that he had threatened to walk away. I’d heard of a couple of previous occasions at least.

But this one was for real. His desk was empty, bags packed and the keys for room 403 were handed back to the front desk.

Given his strength of character, the sudden departure should come as no surprise.

But it leaves questions unanswered. Speak to five different people and you’ll probably get five different versions of why he has gone.

Christie had health issues and recently spent a week in hospital. But he maintains that his decision was based on the fact that the new role “wasn’t for me.”

Then there were internet rumours that sprung up of rows behind the scenes with Mark Lawn – stories which brought a bewildered reaction from the joint-chairman.

It’s not hard to imagine two strong personalities rubbing each other up the wrong way on occasion.

But would it be enough for one to walk away?

Christie, a former soldier, didn’t strike me as the type to be upset with a bit of name-calling.

But perhaps beneath the bluff exterior there was a more sensitive soul, who felt that his work was not being appreciated. His pointed reference to only one of the chairmen while saying his goodbyes alluded to the perceived conflict of characters behind the scenes.

We may never know for sure. Even in the soap opera that is Bradford City, it seems strange that such a big full-on character should walk away so quietly.