Some Of Our Bees Are Missing

Ben Norris (Ben Archer)

It was a bit of a mixed week for Ben Archer; Jill keeps finding jobs for him to do (payback for the car birthday present, no doubt) and on Monday we find him in the orchard at Brookfield, reflecting on the fact that he really should have added a super in one of the hives a week or so ago and things are getting a bit crowded in there.

If you found that last paragraph totally incomprehensible, don’t worry; you are not alone, as I for one didn’t have a clue either. Good old Google to the rescue! (Other search engines are also available). Stop me if you already know this, but ‘super’ is short for ‘superstructure’ and is basically a box in which wooden frames (usually 8 or 10) are hung and on which the bees build their honeycombs. The usual size is 6 5/8”, or 9 5/8” if you are particularly strong (a full honeycomb is quite heavy, apparently). Never let it be said that the Archers, or indeed, this blog, fails to educate listeners and readers!

So, we have Ben wandering the orchard and he notices that the bees are swarming and have taken up temporary residence in an apple tree. Just then his phone rings and it’s Chloe, the Junior Doctor with whom Ben had a one-night stand. She asks if this is a good time to talk and, lying through his teeth, Ben says of course. We learn that she is going to allow him to cook a meal for her, which is big of her, but when the call ends, Ben notices that the bees have obviously got bored and flown away.

Disaster! Ben says that Jill will kill him if the bees are lost - she could have used the swarm to start another hive. Even worse, Ben will be ostracised and probably never again get to taste any of Jill’s cakes and pastries. When you find yourself stripped naked, covered in honey and lashed to a post outside a beehive by a vengeful Grandmother, that will be the least of your worries, my lad.

Perhaps we should pause and take time to ask why is Chloe bothering to get in touch? After their ‘hips that pass in the night’ moment, she told Ben to go away and do some growing up and to work on his technique. In addition, she is seven years older than Ben, is reportedly drop-dead gorgeous and, as a Junior Doctor, presumably quite intelligent, so why is she bothering with someone who doesn’t even notice when several hundred (or maybe several thousand - my apiarist knowledge isn’t that in-depth) bees decide to go awol? I do hope that she isn’t pregnant, as Ben already has a rather inflated idea of his own self importance and to land a catch like Chloe, if you will pardon the phrase, will do nothing to dampen his ego.

The bees were definitely the stars of last week’s episodes; even getting a mention on Susan Carter’s Radio Borsetshire show. Ben phoned in to report the loss of the swarm and gave his mobile number in case there was any news. As a consequence, he is now something of a figure of fun and Rex and Toby make buzzing noises whenever they see him (oh, the wit!). Even worse, he keeps getting calls from Barry whenever he (Barry) sees a solitary bee. Barry, who doesn’t have a speaking part, seems to have taken over from Tracy’s thicko brother Gary as the resident Village Idiot and obviously doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘swarm’. Strange that neither Gary nor Barry have speaking parts; ‘dumb’ in every sense of the word, you might say.

Susan’s radio show is going through something of a crisis and Danny the producer is concerned; he thinks the listeners are losing interest. Susan, however, thinks that they are just busy doing something else (like intently watching paint dry, maybe?) and perhaps she should talk about more controversial things. It probably doesn’t help that someone with a name like Thelma Deeply-Boring of darkest Borsetshire has sent a list of her favourite records, one of which is Paddy McGinty’s Goat by Val Doonican. I swear you could hear the sound of people lapsing into comas over the airwaves.

In an attempt to enthuse her listeners, Susan wants to hear their experiences of ‘disappointing dates.’ Personally, I’ve never thought that July 23^rd has ever been very exciting, but it turns out that this is not what Susan means and she launches into a story about this anonymous girl who once grabbed hold of her boyfriend’s dad’s leg in the dark (father and son had swapped chairs). This led to all sorts of complications and misunderstandings.

I said the girl in the story was anonymous, but halfway through, Susan refers to “my sis-” before stopping herself and Tracy, listening at home, recognises herself as the heroine (if indeed that is the word I want) of the story. Tracy is not best pleased - in fact, she is just the other side of incandescent - and rings up the radio station to have it out with her sister. Tracy’s language, we gather, was somewhat intemperate and she is cut off for swearing. “That wasn’t proper swearing” she says to herself, still in a temper and vows to take revenge on her sister. “You’ve asked for this, Susan” Tracy says and her weapon of choice is social media, which she promises “to be all over, like a latex onesie.” Her first post is about Neil, who Tracy says has always had the hots for Shula for the past few decades. “He’d jump into her jodhpurs like a shot” Tracy says, typing furiously. She is doing this outside and we suddenly hear a scream - the swarm has invaded the garden and Tracy, who is terrified of bees, beats a hasty retreat, still screaming.

Meanwhile, back at Radio Borsetshire (or at least Susan’s converted attic room studio) Mrs Carter is blissfully unaware that, as far as her sister is concerned, Susan is living on borrowed time. Susan thinks that Tracy’s call livened up the show nicely - “Pity about the swearing, but when Tracy’s calmed down, she’ll see the funny side” Susan says, confidently. Oh yeah? Want to bet, Susan? If I were you, I’d carry a swarm of bees around with me just in case I ran into my sister.

And what of the bees, I hear you scream? Are they doomed to be homeless wanderers for ever? Far from it - they have taken up residence in Josh’s baler, which he discovers as he is checking it over before selling it. It turns out that he gets stung twice, but the bees are rehomed safely and Jill puts away the thumbscrews. The only consolation for Josh is that Ben turned up at Tracy’s to collect the swarm, resplendent in “my bee suit” and Chelsea (Tracy’s daughter) filmed him and posted it on social media. When he says “my bee suit” I am assuming that he means the full protective gear with hat and veil, rather than something with black and yellow horizontal stripes and a pair of fake wings.

Away from the bees, Kirsty is a bit down - David has told her that, when the Brookfield wedding venue barn is back up and running, the priority will be wedding bookings, pushing Kirsty and Phil’s engagement party booking to the bottom of the list. Of course, David doesn’t know that the engagement party is really a secret wedding party and Kirsty cannot tell him the truth.

She thinks that the news will make Phil even more depressed and grumpy, but she tells him anyway, regretting the action almost immediately as he slopes off in a mood. Helen realises that her friend is down in the dumps, but what can she do to cheer Kirsty up? Her first thought - a group chat - is greeted with only lukewarm enthusiasm, but then Helen has an idea; a virtual Hen Night. Kirsty thinks it sounds great and even Philip laughs out loud when he hears of it. Helen is pleased, as it means that Kirsty can spend at least one evening without worrying about Philip.

Helen has lined up all Kirsty’s friends and come up with a number of games to keep the bride-to-be amused and occupied. As an example, there is a charades game called ‘guess the animal’, which involves Pat wearing a wok on her head and a hose from the vacuum cleaner (it was an elephant in case you hadn‘t guessed). Other highlights of the night included a 70s music play list, organised by Roy and Phoebe - it was a busy night for Roy, as he also fixed Kirsty’s dodgy Internet reception.

Kirsty is getting stuck into the wine and is quite mellow by the time that we rejoin the virtual party. The last game of the night is Tracy’s dare, in which Kirsty is dared to get Philip’s phone and make a prank call to the person that Phil last called. This turned out to be a slightly bemused Kenzie and, when Philip found out about the dare, he was not happy. So unhappy was he, that Kirsty was surprised at the shortness of his fuse and an argument ensued. On the plus side, it meant that she and Phil had a long chat and he agreed to spend less time on his phone. Kirsty reflects that the evening has done her the world of good and she really wants to get married. “As far as I’m concerned, it can’t come soon enough” she says to herself. This contrasts with her mood earlier in the week, when she learned of Brookfield’s decision to ‘demote’ her engagement party. “Look at my track record - me and weddings; it’s like a curse.”

Earlier on, we questioned Chloe’s sanity regarding her relationship with Ben, and it seems that we are not alone in this, as Josh is baffled too. In fact he says “He’s so far below her in the food chain.” Talking of food, Ben has been experimenting - largely without success, according to Josh - with making Thai meals. The reason for  this is because Chloe is very enthusiastic about Thai cuisine and Ben plans to serve up a Thai dish when he cooks for Chloe, but he just cannot get it right. As it turns out, it doesn’t matter, as Chloe says she’d be very happy with pizza. Just as well, thinks Josh as, going by results so far, Ben has definitely inherited the cooking genes of his mother. Ouch!

However, let us end this week by going back to Kirsty’s virtual Hen party - specifically the ‘guess the animal’ charades. Personally, I would have got Tony to empty his trouser pockets and turn them inside out. The animal in question? An elephant with cloth ears, of course.

The Customer Relations Could Use Some Work, Jakob

Paul Venables (Jakob Hakansson)

Jakob is bored - Kate is self-isolating at The Lodge with Peggy (semi self isolating?), leaving Jakob at something of a loose end - he has tidied his desk drawer and taken advantage of Kate’s absence to re-order his wardrobe. As happens so often in the new-lockdown format, he is talking to himself and running over a telephone conversation he had earlier that day with a child, whose pony was limping. Jakob interrogated said child - which foot was the horse limping on? Was there any swelling? 

Jakob admitted to himself that Alistair would have handled the situation more sympathetically - indeed, Jakob’s bedside manner makes Doc Martin look like Florence Nightingale - and he further admits that perhaps he shouldn’t have said to the child that limping could have a number of causes, including laminitis, which can be fatal. “Animals don’t require chat - that’s why I like them” he says to himself.

His latest attempt to pass the time is as a guinea pig (or perhaps that should be a guinea-dog) for Kate’s latest idea, which is virtual yoga classes. Kate seems to have taken on board some of Jakob’s customer relations philosophy, as she tells him not to over-think everything and to stop talking. “Switch off your analytical brain” she tells him when he asks which breed of dog he should be envisaging during the downward-facing-dog exercise. In the end, Kate gets so frustrated that she mutes Jakob.

Things aren’t helped when the Internet signal keeps going down. During one of these enforced breaks, Jakob analyses his relationship with Kate - he says she looked very sexy doing the exercises and he misses her. Kate is looking for a USP to differentiate her from Lucy (the manager at Spiritual Home), who is offering a virtual yoga programme. Kate is annoyed because Lucy introduced this when Kate was away in South Africa recently and she (Kate) thinks that Lucy has stolen her thunder somewhat.

The Internet connection is restored, only to be halted by a piercing scream from Kate; apparently Hilda, the killer feline, brought her a present of a live rodent, which was not appreciated. Peggy thinks that it was a field mouse, while Kate is convinced it was a rat and starts sanitising the Persian carpet and the room in general. Now I know that Kate’s knowledge of the animal kingdom is limited, but there’s a considerable size difference between a rat and a field mouse. Kate is further exercised when Peggy uses bare hands to pick up the rodent - she’s an old lady and Kate is trying to keep her safe; she already has to stop her chatting to neighbours and others.

Peggy tells Kate to call the doctor, as Kate has been acting oddly - she’s moody and sleeping badly (sounds like normal for Kate, if you ask me). For herself, Kate is concerned - what if there is something seriously wrong with her? “Who’s going to look after Gran if I’m not here to do it?” she asks herself.

To save you worrying, I’ll tell you now that Kate’s health is fine and her symptoms are due to early onset of the menopause, or as Kate puts it “I’m now officially past it” and “I’m never going to be pregnant again.” She is worried about how Jakob will react - she recalls how pleased he was when they both thought that Kate was pregnant - perhaps will he leave her now?

Kate canvasses the thoughts of some female relations, though strangely not from mother Jennifer, nor sister Debbie, who has herself experienced early menopause. Auntie Lilian is all for getting stuck into a course of HRT and has horror stories of women who didn’t do so, but Kate is reluctant to fill her body with chemicals and is determined to stick to natural remedies. Lilian’s pro-HRT advice is given because Jakob wouldn’t like it “if you turn into a sweaty, balding, emotional mess.”

Peggy’s reaction is that the news makes her feel really old (newsflash Peggy; you are really old), to which Kate asks her Gran how she thinks it makes Kate feel? Jakob, it turns out, thinks that it is a perfectly natural human process - “Of course I still love you” he tells her over the phone, prompting her to wish that she could be with him, as his advice is much more helpful than that of her female relatives. Even better - Kate has a light bulb moment and says excitedly that she has found her next niche and her USP: “Yoga for the menopausal woman!”

Lilian’s answer to the menopause (assuming she can remember that far back) can be summed up as ‘G&T’. In fact, she takes part in one of Kate’s virtual yoga lessons - somewhat unsteadily, it has to be said - leading Kate to muse that most people tend to take their refreshment after the exercise is finished, not before. Still, maybe Lilian is a bit depressed, as she reflects on the fact that Dan phones Shula at least once a week, whereas Lilian has not heard from her son James since lockdown began. OK, I know that any right-thinking person with an IQ larger than that of a retarded gnat would fall to their knees and thank God that they hadn’t heard from James, while reflecting that lockdown is not all bad news, but there’s no accounting for a mother’s love, I suppose. Whatever, there’s always the G&T therapy for Lilian to fall back upon.

Lilian and Justin were at the centre of one of the major stories of last week; Lilian is pleased that her animal weight loss programme is going so well, and Amir, Aziz and even Ruby are slimmer and fitter. However, she fears that this does not apply to herself, as Justin has taken over the kitchen and is regularly producing highly-calorific meals from a variety of cuisines. If she cannot find a way to stop him, thinks Lilian, she will be a dress size larger by tomorrow teatime.

Her cunning plan involves buying matching his-n-hers purple tracksuits (or sweatsuits - both phrases were used) and dropping unsubtle hints about how the grass needs cutting. Justin is incensed - he will wear the tracksuit only over his dead body - plus he is angry because Lilian has dug out a family tree tracing book that James bought him for last Christmas. The irony of this is that Justin and his family are not exactly close - his relationship with his sister involves sending a Christmas card (what? Every Christmas?) - and could best be summed up as ‘not giving a toss’.

Lilian shouts out of the window (Justin is mowing the lawn sans tracksuit) - does he fancy a tipple? The answer is an inaudible growl; “That’ll be a ‘no’ then from Grumplestiltskin” Lilian says, smugly and goes back to her in-depth examination of her collection of box sets - both DVDs and chocolates.

Lilian is encouraged when Justin begins to get interested in his family’s history. Indeed, Lilian hears him in his study, chortling loudly; it appears he is reading Parish records and came across notification of a cousin being declared bankrupt, which tells you a lot about Justin’s character.

Lilian then goes to see to the horses and gives Aziz some exercise. As she leads him round in circles, she thinks how good it is that he and Amir are losing weight and keeping fit. She goes further, resolving to lose some weight herself. “No carbs, no chocs and slimline tonic in the gin” she promises, but more of this later.

As the saying goes, ‘be careful what you wish for’, as Justin’s genealogical interest quickly turns to obsession. He has found a long-lost (female) relative and is spending a lot of time on the phone to her, with much laughter on both sides. If truth be told, Lilian is getting a teeny bit jealous and she is looking for a way to distract Justin from his family - perhaps Kate might be able to help? So it is that Justin hears the doorbell ring and realises that Kate has left him something on the doorstep. What could it be? I’m afraid I am going to keep you in suspense a little longer.

Justin is perfectly aware of how Lilian is feeling and, when she returns from the horses, he decides to tease her about his relative. Her name, it turns out, is Justine, but when he was younger, Justin could not pronounce this properly and referred to her as “Tinny”, and the name stuck among the family. The reason he is spending so much time with her is that he is advising her on her business - she bakes celebration cakes and Justin is formulating a revised business plan for her.

He is surprised that this is giving him as much of a buzz as working for Damara. Lilian, he thinks to himself, just doesn’t get it “but this is me; this is my work and my play; it’s what I’m good at - what makes me tick.” It gets worse for Lilian, as Justin has discovered Kate’s present, and it is an interactive game of golf on the TV. While Justin is practising his swing downstairs, a dejected Lilian lies awake, dressed in her special nightie, but all to no avail - Justin shows no sign of coming to bed any time soon.

“Well done, Lilian,” she says to herself, “hoist by my own petard once again.” She debates whether or not to go downstairs and get stuck into a box of chocolates, but she couldn’t face the look on Justin’s face. What makes it even worse is that Justin is playing the game, in front of the TV, dressed in his purple tracksuit, which he describes as definitely the most comfortable attire he has ever worn for golf. Poor Lilian’s day is now complete.

The Lilian Bellamy Diet: How to Lose Weight, the Lilian Bellamy Way

1. No carbs

2. No chocolate

3. Only slimline tonic to go with the gin

The theory works like this: 100ml of ‘ordinary’ tonic contains approximately 41 calories, while 100ml of slimline tonic only contains 1 calorie. Therefore, every time Lilian takes a drink, she is saving 40 calories.* Consequently, a (for her) modest 15 single gins in a session, each with 100ml of tonic, means a total saving of 600 calories, or approximately one-third of the Public Health England recommended daily calorie intake for women in the UK.

This takes no account of the calorific value of the gin which, let’s face it, is the same colour as water, so it cannot be that much, can it?

No Use Crying Over Unspilt Milk

Louiza Patikas (Helen Archer)

Helen is drowning in undelivered milk. Not literally, you understand, but the bulk tank is full and the stock room is filling up with cheese wheels. It would be nice to sell the excess milk, but the dairy doesn’t have enough bottles, plus they are short of labour since Susan and Clarrie were stood down. Helen is missing Lee, who is spending every hour at the hospital, and she cannot see a way round the milk problem - it would break her heart to have to throw so much good milk away.

By contrast, things are going very well for Tom and the Bridge Fresh enterprise; the lockdown situation means that the app is extremely successful - so much so that Tom is crying out for extra delivery drivers. In addition to Bridge Farm produce, they are also selling Josh’s eggs, Toby’s gin and cakes from the tearoom and, to show how big-hearted he is, Tom is only charging them on a wholesale basis. Pat thinks that he should charge them commission only, but Tom takes the stance that why shouldn’t Bridge Fresh make something out of the current situation? He can always adjust the pricing when the pandemic is over. 

What is really bugging Helen is the fact that Susan has asked her to go on Susan’s radio show. Helen is annoyed, protesting that she hasn’t enough time to spare, but deep down, she is annoyed at herself for passing up what she admits would be a great opportunity to promote Bridge Farm and its products. Helen admires Susan for the way she has seized her opportunity over the radio programme and she (Helen) starts beating herself up - what is there to be afraid of? Just pick up the phone and tell Susan she will do it; Helen admits that Tom will think she’s mad for passing up such a chance.

Eventually, Helen admits to herself that her fear is that listeners will recognise her name from the Court case and the thought of all those listeners reminds her of how she felt in court. The spectre of Rob still haunts her and she tries to persuade herself that things have changed. “I’ve moved on,” she scolds herself, adding; “I’m not Helen Titchener any more.” So what’s the matter with her, she asks - surely she’s not going to let it beat her now?

Meanwhile, Tom gets a call back from Eddie, agreeing that Eddie will join the team of Bridge Fresh delivery drivers, but only on the condition that Grange Farm cider is added to the portfolio of products available. Tom agrees, then turns his mind to the subject of providing fresh produce for veg boxes. He comes up with a brilliant solution - Johnny can harvest what vegetables are needed tomorrow; Tom thinks he (Tom) is working quite hard enough.

This news is certainly not music to Johnny’s ears, as he thinks that Tom is already working him fairly relentlessly and, what with getting earache from Tom and also Tracy (about keeping fit for cricket) he has more than enough on his plate. Talking to the cows (lockdown has some strange effects on some people) Johnny bemoans his fate - what does Tracy know about fitness; she probably lights up a fag as soon as her latest instruction video is finished? Why, asks Johnny, couldn’t Sgt. Burns have won the team captaincy contest?

If it’s any consolation to Johnny (and you can bet it isn’t) at least one person appreciates how hard he works, and that is Tony. Tony has an ambivalent approach to lockdown; on the one hand, social distancing means no more hard-to-get-out-of invitations from Jenny and Lilian for Sunday lunches, but on the other hand, he is suffering from a lack of barbering and is sporting long hair and a beard. This begs the question why has he stopped shaving? People are beginning to notice and Pat called him “a yeti”, while Henry refers to him as “granddad Hagrid.” Either the beard or the hair has to go, Tony decides, and he chooses the former, sending Pat a photo of his newly-shaven face. This does not satisfy her and she messages back “I mean it Samson - get ready for a trim.”

Good old Tony can be relied upon to cock things up and he decides to give himself a DIY haircut, with predictable results. Fortunately, Tom manages to rescue him, but the only way to do it was to shave his hair off. “From Hagrid to Voldemort” was how Johnny describes the result. However, this gives Johnny an idea of how he might handle his own problem of a receding hairline - if he shaves his head he will never have to cover up again. This is a big decision for Johnny and he debates long and hard with himself, but Tuesday’s episode ends with the buzz of an electric razor.

Someone who is definitely not enjoying lockdown is Natasha, who, instead of getting out and getting on with her Summer Orchard business, is stuck in the office, processing paperwork and getting increasingly frustrated. To cap it all, a warning light shows her that the refrigeration unit is on the blink and the engineer cannot get there until tomorrow. Natasha is really down, and Tom’s not much use, as he’s working so hard. “It feels like everything is slipping through my fingers” Natasha moans, as yet another call to Tom goes to voicemail - all she needs is a hug. There is an added complication - a call to her mother reveals that her father is acting strangely; he is clearing out room after room and Natasha fears that his old Bipolar behaviour is returning. She is worried - if only they didn’t live so far away.

Throughout all these odd happenings, Tom moves, wondering whether he is the only sane person left in Ambridge, what with Natasha not telling him what it is that’s bothering her, Helen refusing to go on Susan’s radio show and Tony skulking around like a pariah. The reason for this last is that Joy compared Tony to Yul Brynner and, consequently, Pat told him to keep his hat on whenever they are outside. On this subject, I admit that I felt old when Tom made a mental note to look up the name Yul Brynner - has he never seen The Magnificent Seven or the movie version of Westworld? In the end I consoled myself with the thought that perhaps Tom is just no good at General Knowledge.

Whatever, Tom is pleased, as Will has agreed to help with deliveries. He has also learned that Natasha has had a heart-to-heart with Helen and, as a consequence, both women feel a whole lot better about themselves. Natasha says that Helen is the strongest person she has ever met, while Helen realises that she has so many people on her side, supporting her. Natasha’s mood is buoyed by the fact that the fridge engineer turned up and the fault was only a minor one, like a faulty bulb or similar.

Tom is on his way home, bearing a wheel of cheese and a bottle of wine from Helen as a ‘thank you’ (be grateful, Tom; you could have been given 500 litres of nearly-fresh Montbeliard milk.) While many of us would argue that Tom isn’t always the quickest on the uptake, something must have worked its way into his consciousness, as he realises that Natasha and Helen have been speaking to each other. Even more surprising, he deduces that Natasha must be feeling a long way from home and he sends her a text, saying that he will be back by 6pm and that he will be bearing cheese and wine. Furthermore, he suggests that he and Natasha should message, or Skype, or whatever, her parents after supper. Natasha realises that the best way to support her father is to show him that she’s doing fine, and she goes to have a shower and put her face on.

Helen drew great encouragement from her talk with Natasha, and she was further boosted by a meeting with Lee. This was not a meeting as such, as they were on opposite banks of the Am and waved to each other. Lee left a couple of presents for the boys in the middle of a bridge and Helen was full of how nice it was to see him in the flesh. Later on she says that being apart from Lee has clarified how she feels about him and she is looking forward to their being together again more often when this is all over, as she has come to realise that twice a week is just not enough. Wash your minds out with soap and water; she was referring to the fact that this is how often they communicate online.

Before this happened, Helen’s new-found confidence led her to contact Susan and arrange an interview (this will be done remotely, with Helen staying at Bridge Farm). It was a great success and, speaking afterwards, Tony is relieved. Past events, he thinks, have eroded a lot of Helen’s trust in people and he credits Lee with a big part in helping to restore this.

Helen, Tony goes on, was very relaxed and confident, which is more than can be said for him as, at the end of the interview, he came into the kitchen to congratulate Helen, not realising at first that he was live on air. Susan waylaid him by referring to his haircut (she had been told about it by Joy). Thinking quickly (for him, at least), Tony told Joy that he was doing it for charity and, when taxed with this by Susan about who it was for, he said the Borsetshire General Burns Unit, as a tribute to their care for Lynda. Apparently, people are shaving their heads left, right and centre (I thought the idea is that you sponsor the person, not necessarily having to join in?) Money is rolling in and Tony is delighted. “I said I was a trendsetter” he says, smugly. I suspect that Pat might have another word for it.

All in all, it was a very positive week for a lot of people - Tony made a lot of people laugh; Johnny seems to have overcome his Trichopathophobia (or Peladophobia, or Phalacrophobia - they all came up on Google); Tom said that the last few days have taught him that there’s more to life than how the business is doing and that the call to Natasha’s parents did them all good. 

Finally, after much soul-searching, Helen enjoyed doing the interview and, because of it, she received an offer of milk bottles, so Bridge Farm milk can go on sale again, plus she got some orders for Borsetshire Blue. More important, she regained her confidence and the week ends on a positive note as she says to herself: “These small steps forward are leading to somewhere - somewhere new and better.” Let’s just hope that the writers don’t do the dirty on us and that Lee, being a front-line, key NHS worker, keeps well and returns home safely.

Bonus Posting - I Never Meant To Be Cruel

Hi, I notice that a couple of comments about last week’s blog (‘Definitely The Face For Radio’) accused me of being cruel and insensitive when I suggested that Susan Carter had the ideal face for radio. It was also suggested that it was not nice to illustrate the blog with a photo of Charlotte Martin, who plays Susan.

Let me try to put things in perspective. You have to remember that I was writing about how I imagine Susan Carter looks and, in my mind, she isn’t the sort of person I would want for a neighbour (or a relative, come to that). Be honest; she is a total busybody and a gossip, who almost invariably gets the wrong end of the stick and jumps to the wrong conclusion. Don’t get me started!

It is a tribute to Charlotte Martin’s acting ability that she can inspire such feelings and the last thing I would want to do is to insult her appearance - it is my vision of Susan that I vent my spleen upon, not Charlotte, who I have no doubt is a very nice person.

I do wonder if the fact that Susan can provoke such emotions in me is because Charlotte has a PhD in psychology and is a Senior Research Fellow and obviously knows which buttons to push. Whatever, it obviously works, as there are times when I find myself shouting at the radio (such as last week, when she said “I can’t abide gossip” and made poor Neil say sorry for daring to suggest that she is a gossip).

We must not let ourselves get real life and fantasy mixed up, and I will continue to bang my head against the wall whenever Susan (or any other character, come to that) comes out with something that makes me see red, but please rest assured that I have nothing but admiration for all cast members - yes, even those (and there are quite a few) whose characters drive me insane!

Definitely The Face For Radio…

As we continue in lockdown, Radio Borsetshire launches a competition to find a new presenter for a daytime show, and who is prepared to work from home. The competition is first mentioned by Ben Archer, who prays that it won’t be his dad, as he couldn’t bear the thought of Disco Dave getting down with the kids. Don’t worry Ben, as I am sure that David is much too busy on the farm. To save listeners and our readers too much in the way of apprehension and anxiety, let me reveal now that the competition was won by Susan Carter, who just edged out Jolene Archer. My thoughts on this are perfectly expressed by the title of this week’s blog.

Perhaps Susan agrees, as she says to herself that she has all the qualities that make her ideal as a radio host, though she didn’t mention anything about having the ideal radio face. Her show begins with a reading from Jill’s memories of her life during the war - memories dictated to, and typed up by, Jill’s grandson Ben. Susan describes this as “sweet”, which makes Ben curl up with embarrassment.

So caught up in Jill’s stories was Susan, that she missed her cue to come back on air and had to be reminded by Danny, the show’s producer. Before beginning to broadcast, Susan had a quick swig to calm her nerves of Ron Miel (Honey Rum) that she brought back from holiday. This proved so efficacious that she had another swig or two. By this time her nerves were so calm that she was virtually flat-lining and she was - not drunk exactly - but had reached the stage where everybody was her best friend.

Susan then launches into a bit of a ramble about her role as shop manager and village Postmistress, and proceeds to thank all the essential workers in every possible role and profession until Danny cuts her short, presumably before she starts calling them by name. Not content with this, Susan then starts bigging up Neil, referring to him as “a pillar of the community” in his role as Chairman of the Parish Council and as an executive at Berrow Farm.

As part of this speech, she goes on about how she makes chilli to keep Neil happy and, as we learn later, she goes into excruciating details about the effect that certain spices in her recipe have upon her husband. Fortunately, we are spared the grisly details, but we are told later that Emma is acutely embarrassed and Ed was so shaken by what he heard that his sheep shearing was disrupted (“I was so shocked that I totally lost my mojo and couldn’t get it back”) and, as a result, Ed slipped way behind Jazzer in the contest that the two lads were having about who could shear the most sheep.

We shall return to Susan, but let’s look at what has been happening elsewhere. Ben is pondering on his future - it seems that A-Levels are off the agenda and he is wondering about whether or not to apply to the local Uni. Having said that, his immediate ambition appears to be staying in bed late and then binge-watching Netflix. One thing he doesn’t want to do is to keep taking notes of his Gran’s reminiscences and typing them up, so he is mildly alarmed when he learns (from Susan’s programme) that Jill is seriously considering turning her childhood memories into a book. However, it is an ill wind, as they say, and Ben recounts how he and Jill fell about laughing as Susan became more and more indiscreet about the aphrodisiac effects of her chilli on her Neil. Personally, I reckon she must lace it with Rohypnol.

Ben is not best pleased when Emma, who is making cakes in the Tearoom kitchen, runs out of eggs and Ben is the only person on the farm who can be spared to deliver a load to Emma. There is much moaning because the eggs are Josh’s business, so why can’t he take them?, but Ben is press-ganged into it. Ben muses upon how the doctors etc. are risking their lives daily and he says that he couldn’t do it. His thoughts then turn to junior doctor Chloe, with whom he had a brief, one-night stand after his 18^th birthday. On impulse, he sends her a text, wishing her luck and saying he’s thinking of her. To his surprise and delight, she replies instantly and says “see you when we’re out the other side x.” Ben is ecstatic, saying “Yes! Result” and then musing: “I wonder if she likes chilli?”

Meanwhile, Emma is wondering about whether the kids are doing their schoolwork properly at home - the way these lockdown episodes are structured, there is a lot of musing and talking to oneself - and she is alarmed when Helen reminds her by text that the class has a project to complete in four days, talking about how things were in the war. Emma is surprised, as Keira is usually so good at telling them about these things and deadlines (we learn at the end of the week that Keira was upset because Joe wasn’t around to ask about it). 

This sets Emma off on another train of thought - how come Helen always manages to cope so well with two children and running a business? “Helen does poise; I do banana skins” Emma sighs, and she is surprised to learn at the end of the week that Helen/Henry haven’t completed the project. Not only that, but it seems that Helen doesn’t  appear to give a toss about not doing it, while Emma was determined that Keira would submit something on time. No doubt about it, Emma thinks, Helen is definitely cool.

Having lost the sheep-shearing competition with Jazzer (there were 10 pints riding on it, which presumably would see Jazzer through an average lunchtime, were the pubs open and serving) Ed is not in the happiest of moods. His temper is not improved when he keeps tripping over Emma’s prized coffee table. It is prized by her because, when she sold off all her possessions when she and Ed split up, he approached brother William and gave him the money to secretly buy it back for her. The burning question is ’why?’ as all we know about it is that it is blue in colour and, instead of feet, it has dolphins. The word ’grotesque’ springs to mind.

Emma is in a bit of a tizzy, as, before going to work, Ed told her that he wants to discuss something with her when he comes home. She is concerned - perhaps he is having second thoughts about the family living together in the mobile home? Why should he have to make an appointment to talk to his wife? Whatever, she is on tenterhooks all day and, when Ed comes home and takes her outside for a talk, she is nervous. “Em, I don’t think this is working” her husband says” and she notices how pale he is looking. There is a pause and he adds: “I really can’t stand that coffee table” and bursts out laughing. Emma picks up said item of furniture and smacks him round the head with it. Actually, she doesn’t, but I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.

As promised, we return to Susan, who is going through agonies of embarrassment. “What a prize idiot I am” she says, and there’s no argument from me. In a breathtaking moment of self-deception, she adds: “I can’t abide gossip” and goes on to say that the shame means that she and Neil will have to move out of Ambridge and Neil will have to resign from his posts as PC Chairman and Churchwarden, as well as resigning from Berrow Farm. 

Susan also says that she can tell that Emma is still in a mood with her and Neil says that it’s all forgiven and forgotten, and besides, it’s only all gossip. “As if I’d gossip!” Susan says indignantly (see earlier comment about self-deception) and says that she has forgiven him, which is very magnanimous of her. Nevertheless, some inkling of remorse must have percolated through her thick hide, as she says that she wishes that she had never opened her big mouth and five million listeners nod in eager agreement.

It takes her back to the time when she came out of prison 26 years ago (for aiding and abetting brother Clive) and everybody was talking about her. I reckon that she is now getting her revenge, by her talking about everyone, but she feels as if she has let everyone down and is convinced that Radio Borsetshire is going to sack her.

There is a knock on the door of her temporary radio studio (doubling as the broom cupboard) and it is Neil, bearing news of the reaction of listeners. Emma has already told us her thoughts - she thinks her mother’s talk “was a cross between a nature documentary and Love Island” - but it seems that she is in a minority. Far from calling for Susan to be flayed alive, burnt at the stake or hung, drawn and quartered, we are given an insight into how empty and joyless the lives of the inhabitants of Borsetshire must be, from the largely positive feedback that has resulted from her broadcast.

Danny says that people cannot get enough of it and Radio Borsetshire has offered Susan a regular slot. She is trending on Twitter and one comment was along the lines of ‘how good it was to hear someone talking so frankly about sex in later life’. Neil also has his own fan club and there are messages saying “When do we get to meet Neil?” (presumably to get a look at the man who has so patiently put up with Susan for so many decades). There is one letter that Susan reads out, “from a Mr. B. A., asking for the recipe for Susan’s chilli.”

Suffice it to say that Susan’s Olympian self-confidence has returned and she toasts herself with a tot of Honey Rum, saying “Here’s to you, Susan Carter and to your new career - they’ll be hanging on your every word!” Of her new career, she says, triumphantly: “I was born to be an anchorwoman!” What a bloody good idea - has anybody got a spare 50 yards of cast-iron chain that I can have?

[While we listeners appreciate that the cast, writers and producer are all doing their level best to sustain our interest in our favourite village, may I raise a note of complaint? Am I the only one to think that the new arrangement of the title music to the Sunday Omnibus is absolutely horrendous? I can only hope that it has replaced the usual theme for the duration of the pandemic only. Having said that, I was never a great fan of the old Sunday theme anyway (whenever I heard it, I always thought of the old joke: “welcome to Hell - here’s your accordion”) but I have to say that the old arrangement was infinitely preferable to the current offering.]

Welcome Back!

Timothy Bentinck (David Archer)

After being off the airwaves for a few weeks - well, with new stories, anyway - last week saw the welcome return of the Archers. The format differed from what we have been used to, with episodes consisting of one or two cast members recording what were, in effect, monologues, which were then spliced together.

The reason for this (in case any historians are reading this blog decades from now and wondering what all the fuss is about) was the global corona virus pandemic. The UK has just undergone 10 weeks of lockdown, with schools, shops and sporting events shut or cancelled, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to suspend belief that things were carrying on as normal in Ambridge. By the end of May, the global death toll from the virus topped 367,000, while fatalities in the UK exceeded 38,000.

Across the nation, workers were suspended (or ‘furloughed’), people were encouraged to work from home and government guidance discouraged and restricted travel and fraternisation - at least in theory. Against this background, the everyday story of country folk was becoming more and more unrealistic. The cast was suffering too, and the stories that made up last week’s offerings were recorded by actors in isolation at home and, more often than not, beneath duvets to exclude outside noises. The week began with David Archer soliloquising on top of Lakey Hill…

David has had a run-in with son Josh (“I don’t know where he gets his temper from” David muses). There is the sound of a car in the distance and David tells us that it is Kirsty on her way somewhere. Poor Kirsty and Philip - their so-called ‘engagement party’ (really a secret wedding) was one of the first events in Ambridge to fall foul of the lockdown.

It turns out that the Home Farm forage harvester broke down when Josh was in it, on the way to collect the silage at Brookfield and David blamed Josh. Cut to Josh, who is aggrieved at being told that it was his fault and he blames Home Farm for not having a complete set of spare parts. “Of course, it’s easier to blame me - as usual” says an embittered Josh. He is convinced that David has more empathy with his siblings than with Josh - even their names are traditional Archer nomenclature (Pip is short for Philippa, named for granddad Phil, while Ben is named after Dan Archer’s younger brother, John Benjamin, usually known as Ben, and who died in August 1972). Josh, on the other hand, was christened Joshua Matthew - where did those names come from, he wonders? 

Josh’s mood improves, and we learn that this is because Adam says that he is not to blame for the forage harvester debacle. In fact, Adam has offered Josh more work on Home Farm and Brian has suggested that he tries to qualify for a spraying licence. Should Josh phone David to gloat (he cannot wait to see his dad’s face). No, best to wait - after all, Josh might need a loan. Speaking of Brian, Josh reveals that Brian and Adam have been at odds over the spring barley - it seems that Brian drilled too early and the rooks got the seed. Adam was not pleased.

However, there is another potential disaster looming at Brookfield, when we learn that Rooooth has volunteered to make lasagne for supper and David is bitterly regretting not stopping her - perhaps he should have offered to cook instead? David describes lasagne as “one of Rooooth’s signature dishes” although it appears that it is less of a signature and more of a scrawl. Nevertheless he is optimistic, saying that “one day she will find the sweet spot between burnt to a crisp and slimy as snails.”

That was Monday, and on Tuesday the protagonists are Tracy and Sgt. Burns. Tracy is bored out of her skull, as Grey Gables is closed for lockdown and she embarks on her scheme to become the Ambridge cricket team Captain and to wrest power from Harrison Burns. Bert Horrobin (Tracy’s dad) is at a loss to understand what Tracy is moaning about - after all, she is getting paid not to go to work, so what could be better than that?

Sgt.B realises that he has a fight on his hands and there will have to be a vote among members - he thinks that Tracy has no idea of what is involved in being Captain. Tracy launches her manifesto and says that, if you’re not playing to win, then there’s no point playing at all. She also slags off the other teams in the league and adds - a trifle unnecessarily, one might think - “I am a bit competitive.” Ha! That’s like Mohamed Ali saying ‘I’m a bit useful, sometimes.’

Despite himself, Sgt B is impressed, until he realises that Tracy’s manifesto is in fact a mish-mash of clichés, cut and pasted from speeches by , among others, Martin Luther king Jnr and Winston Churchill. Be this as it may, the comments from others in the team are generally favourable, which speaks volumes for the intelligence level of Ambridge cricketers. However, Tracy has left her master stroke till the end - she promises that she will not only replace the somewhat manky equipment and kit, but she will also come up with a sponsor for the team. It turns out that the new sponsor is Casey Meats and Sgt B decides that he needs to make a few phone calls if he is to maintain his current position as team Captain.

One person avidly reading both manifestos is Josh, who has yet to decide for whom to vote. He is also facing something of a personal crisis - Adam is offering him more work and Brian keeps pushing the spraying qualification route. Both would bring in extra money, but is that enough? He asks himself “do I want to be ‘Josh Archer, Agricultural Contractor’, or ‘Josh Archer, Rural Entrepreneur’? I know which one I like the sound of.”

While this is going on, the Cricket Captaincy votes are counted and Tracy is the winner, by a single vote. Reflecting on this, Sgt Burns says “a majority is a majority” and adds that Tracy doesn’t really know what she’s let herself in for. Always the sportsman, he raises a glass to the (absent) Tracy and says “Best of luck lass, because you’re going to need it.” It’s not all bad news for our favourite copper, though, as earlier he was attending what looked like a wild goose chase when he came across some lads acting suspiciously on a trading estate; he challenged them and they immediately confessed to every crime in Ambridge over the past decade, including the stolen trailer that Josh was suspected of fencing.

Buoyed by having his name cleared, Josh decides that the time is right to start a new business, so he tells Adam and Brian ‘no thanks’ for the extra agricultural work at Home Farm, because he doesn’t want to be a hired hand for the rest of his life. He even tells David of his new plans to expand the egg business by getting a new shed, two or three times the size of his current enterprise. To Josh’s surprise, David thinks it’s a good idea.

Mind you, everything seems to be going right for Josh at the moment; David told Adam that, if anyone can get new parts quickly for the still-stricken forage harvester, it will be Josh, as he has the gift of the gab “in spades.” Josh gets on to one of his contacts (‘Miserable Mick’ - don’t you just wish you had him on speed dial?) and he does indeed manage to source parts, at a reasonable price and thus save the silage harvest.

David also says that if anyone can make a go of upsizing the egg business, it will be Josh. If I may pause here, when Josh was talking about his new enterprise, I heard him say that he wished that he had moorhens. ’That’s a pretty niche market’ I thought, and wondered how many moorhen’s eggs you’d need for a decent-sized omelette? I then realised that, for ‘moorhens’ we should read ‘more hens’. Well, anybody can make a mistake. David did add the caveat “just as long as he does his books properly this time.” He admits that Josh has given him some hard times, adding; “but it doesn’t stop you praying that your children’s dreams will come true - I might even remember to tell him that sometime.”

Incidentally, Josh asks Rooooth where did they get the idea for his Christian names? His mother says that, when he was a baby, Josh looked very much like David at the same age - so much so, that David referred to him as ‘Junior Me.’ As time went on, this was shortened to ‘J.M.’ and they had to find names to fit these initials, eventually coming up with ‘Joshua Matthew,’ Sounds fishy to me - and begs the question, how old was Josh before he was christened?

Josh and David spent some time on the forage harvester and David reveals his latest ambition, which is to get his old guitar out of the attic and perhaps play a few gigs at the pub and wedding receptions in the Barn. Josh is appalled and reckons that his father is having a mid-life crisis (“It’s the leather jacket all over again.” he thinks, but, wisely says nothing). For his part, David is just pleased that Josh didn’t burst out laughing and mistakes this for a sign of approval, saying that maybe he will try out some tunes later that evening. If anything will end lockdown in Ambridge, I reckon that ‘Disco Dave’ (as either Josh or Rooooth nicknamed him) prancing around with a guitar will do it.

Of course, David may not survive to see the end of lockdown, as he is musing about the family’s reaction to Rooooth’s latest culinary efforts and is wondering if his verdict - “not quite as bad as your last lasagne” was really the most tactful thing that he could have said.

Well, that’s the end of the first week of Ambridge in Lockdown (which is only broadcast on four evenings a week, incidentally). We hope you have enjoyed it and Neil and I are delighted to welcome back old friends and, hopefully, lots of new readers to the blog.