Return Of The Bad Penny

 

Tim Oatey (Carl Prekopp)

Life never seems to get much easier for Ed Grundy, does it? On Monday he finds that a lot of rubbish has been fly-tipped in one of his fields and that a ewe has a nasty cut on her mouth. Clearing up the mess and treating the injured animal makes Ed late for a baling job in Little Croxley. He vows to put a stop to this sort of thing and buys a new padlock and a length of chain - that will teach them!

Sadly, Ed is mistaken and, a couple of days later, he is in the same field, surveying a pile of fly-tipped rubbish. To rub salt into the wound, the fly tippers have removed his padlock and replaced it with one of their own, making it difficult for Ed to get into his own field.  As he clears up this second mess, he decides that he and Will will stake out the field that evening, in case the miscreant(s) return. He makes the mistake of telling Emma of his plan and she is terrified that there will be a violent confrontation.

As it turns out, the two brothers are a bit late in taking up their positions, as a load of pigs have escaped and are trashing the garden (see my earlier comment about life not being easy). It is getting dark when Ed sees the lights of a vehicle coming down the lane. As the driver steps out and is caught in the lights, we hear Ed gasping “Oh my God! I don’t believe it!” in his best Victor Meldrew impression, and thus Wednesday’s episode ends on a cliffhanger.

Who could it be? Sgt Burns? Peggy Woolley? No, nobody so unlikely - the driver is, in fact, Tim Oatey; the person who lured Ed into delivering dodgy chemicals and pesticides for his illegal operations. The repercussions of this were far-ranging, as Adam sacked Ed from his job at Home Farm (Adam couldn’t risk getting involved in another scandal about illegal chemicals), which meant that Ed and Emma lost the house they were hoping to buy on the Beeches estate, plus the pair separated and almost split up permanently. As you can imagine, Tim does not feature highly on Ed and Emma’s Christmas card list and, when Emma learns from Ed that Tim is back on the scene, she urges her husband to grass him up to the police - or, at the very least, inform Crimestoppers anonymously.

Ed is reluctant, as it goes against the grain to inform on a mate -“doing the police’s job for them” -  as Dad Eddie puts it and Ed seems to have forgotten the loss of the house, the loss of his job and the fact that Tim made some very-thinly-veiled threats against Emma, saying that he knows where she works and which way she goes home at night. In the end, sanity prevails and Thursday’s episode ends with Ed giving Crimestoppers Tim’s name. You never know Ed; you may even get a reward.

Emma is involved on a one-woman crusade to get the village to hold a Virtual Flower and Produce Show (VFPS) online. Unfortunately, Clarrie won’t let her anywhere near the vegetable patch (that was Joe’s speciality) and is vehemently opposed to the idea. Emma is surprised, but consoles herself with the thought that Bert Fry, at least will be up for the chance to display his veg online.

Except that he isn’t - Emma thinks that he is worried about the technology, but the truth is that Bert is missing the cut and thrust of his annual competition with Joe Grundy, as Joe’s death has taken away the rivalry that existed between the pair. Never mind - Emma has a plan B and that is for her to bake the Harvest Pie that was Nic’s favourite and get the children to write little notes to accompany a slice of said pie, delivered to the villagers. These notes would promote the VFPS and they proved very successful - both Bert and Mrs Woolley agreed to enter the show online, and Emma thinks that Bert shed a small tear when he got a note from Poppy.

Over at the house of Chris and Alice Carter, times are hard; Chris is in dispute with Thandi - a client who goes in for dressage - over her horse. She says that Chris pricked her horse’s foot when shoeing her, plus she thinks that Chris has been spreading gossip about her affair with a married man. Thandi is very influential in Borsetshire equine circles and is, in Chris’s words, “a formidable keyboard warrior” so she has the potential to do considerable damage to Chris’s business - and this at the time when Alice has chucked in her job.

Father Brian is musing on all this when he is combining the barley - he is doing this to help Adam out “and to prove that I’m not ready for the mobility scooter just yet.” Fat lot of good that would do you in a field of barley, Brian. Brian was amused when, earlier in the day, Alice told her parents that she had an announcement to make. Jennifer, apparently, was all a-quiver, expecting news of a pregnancy and seeking out her ‘I’m going to be a grandmother again’ badge. When it transpired that the news was that Alice has resigned form her job, Jenny was very disappointed and had some harsh words to say about the wisdom of giving up a good job in the current economic climate.

Alice has apparently been hitting the bottle quite hard over recent days and she thinks the time is right for her to start trying to find new clients. “A drink will help clear my head” she says, reaching for the vodka - this is just before lunch, incidentally. She gets a call from Brian, who says that he’d like to talk to her and he’s on his way over. Panic! Alice spills her drink and, as the doorbell rings, she hides the voddie bottle under the sofa.

Brian wants to know the ins and outs of why Alice gave up her job and his daughter eventually admits that she was on the verge of being sacked and decided to jump before she was pushed. Brian’s response to this is to offer her a job at Home Farm (doing what exactly was not revealed) and to suggest that she has a stiff whisky, as that always makes things look better. Especially after a few vodkas as well, I reckon.

Being a dutiful daughter, Alice pours herself a slug and downs it, offering a toast to her father, who has just left; “To my wonderful dad - at least he has faith in me.” For his part, on the drive home, Brian says that he’s glad that Alice came clean, but he’s not convinced that lying to Chris is a good idea. “She’s a chip off the old block - she’s got that Aldridge grit.” 

Chris, meanwhile, is wondering how to counter Thandi’s online messages, slagging him off, and he asks Jakob’s advice. Jakob’s answer is simple - apologise. Maybe Chris didn’t make a mistake and prick the horse, but better to admit to it and thus stop Thandi’s campaign in its tracks. He takes Jakob’s advice and rings Thandi up to say ‘sorry’ and the conversation, says Chris, went better than he had expected.

Back at home, Alice is experiencing a major crisis - the two bottles of burgundy that she has been keeping back have vanished, as Chris gave them to uncle Gary for a belated birthday present; consequently, the house is now an alcohol-free zone. Disaster! Alice gets into the car and drives to a petrol station/store, where she buys a couple of bottles. Sabrina Thwaite is there and apparently she made a pointed remark about alcohol consumption and early afternoon.

This is all water off a duck’s back and, once back home, Alice cooks Chris a nice meal. “Time for a Rioja break” she tells herself, as she awaits her husband’s return, but she is in for a shock; “I can’t believe the bottle is empty” she says, in amazement. Alice, my dear, I fear that you have the beginnings of a problem and, if not careful, you could well end up like your auntie Lilian.

  

A Real Peacock And Bull Story

Richard Attlee (Kenton Archer)

Potential conflict at The Bull? Jolene gets a message from Elizabeth; the peacocks and peahens have had chicks and Lizzie is looking for somewhere to rehome them - would Jolene and Kenton like one? The answer to this is ’yes please’ (Jolene) and ’thanks, but no thanks, sis’ (Kenton). Jolene admits that she misses Eccles - the pub peacock that Kenton fatally ran over - and a replacement would be a good idea. Kenton, too, misses Eccles, but in his case, it’s more the early morning screaming and, quite frankly, he can get along without that din. “The Bull is a peacock-free zone” he texts his sister.

Jolene has already said ‘yes’ and Elizabeth is confused; especially when Jolene tells her to ignore Kenton’s opinion. Kenton suspects collusion between his wife and his sister, but is confident that he can thwart their plans. “Let the peacock wars begin,” he says, confidently.

I’m surprised that he and Jolene have the time for this sort of thing, as they are not exactly beating customers off with sticks. True, they are operating a delivery service, but a couple of ciders for Sabrina Thwaite is not going to keep the wolf from the door for long. Also, the furniture in and outside the pub has been rearranged with screens on most tables and strict attention being paid to social distancing. 

Let’s leave the peacock situation for the moment (I know there’s only so much excitement you can stand) and look for a moment at Sgt Harrison Burns. He is on the horns of a dilemma, as he has been invited by Susan Carter to appear on her Radio Borsetshire programme to talk about rural policing. He accepted (with the blessing of his superior) and only then realised that the date of the show was the day that he and Fallon had set aside as their ‘date night’. He is working all the hours God sends and has hardly seen his wife much in recent weeks, so he suspects that she will not be doing handsprings when she learns of the clash.

Sgt Burns has other problems; notably that sod-all (well, sod-all of any interest) happens in Ambridge, so what will he talk about? Take today - he is on his way to sort out a dispute between neighbours over a hedge. Mrs Lynch accidentally removed some of her neighbour’s hedge and he retaliated by cutting into her topiary. SgtB thinks that he has mediated the dispute, and is getting ready to leave when he sees Mrs Lynch pick up the hedge trimmer for, presumably, another round of garden-related antagonism. He tells her (again) to put the trimmer away. How can he make this sort of incident sound gripping, or even slightly interesting, on radio?

We can help here - let’s imagine a sexed-up version of the story, as it could be related by Sgt Burns: “My tyres squealed in protest as I swung into Windy Ridge. I took in the situation with a single glance - Lynch was threatening her neighbour with the hedge trimmer; I noted that it was plugged in and I could see that the circuit breaker was switched on. I motioned to the other squad cars to stay back; this was something I had to handle myself. ‘Put the hedge trimmer down and move away from the Leylandii’ I said in a calm voice, spreading my arms wide so that she could see that I was unarmed. It was now a battle of wills and I never let my gaze waver, as I slowly approached her. She faltered and I moved forward and unplugged the extension lead - another crisis had been averted. My colleagues, the spectators - and, yes, I myself - breathed again.”

But back to reality (or such as it is in Ambridge). Kenton cannot understand why SgtB was picked to go on the radio when there were more obvious candidates - such as the landlord of a local hostelry and whose first name begins with K - available. As it is, Kenton gives Harrison the benefit of his experience in handling the media, which, to be blunt, amounts to very little.

However, I know you are desperate for the latest news on the Peacock War (I think it merit’s the initial capital letters). Jolene has stolen a march on Kenton by letting it be known on social media that The Bull will be getting a replacement peacock and, furthermore, there is a competition to choose a name for the new bird, with a prize for the winner. If Kenton had his way, the prize would be a roast peacock dinner.

But Kenton isn’t beaten yet and he formulates a strategy to thwart his wife - he will appear to agree with getting a new bird - even better, he will volunteer to construct an aviary for it, thus ensuring that it doesn’t wander off. The cunning part of this plan is that he will specify materials that are on extremely long deliveries - I remember avocado wood (16 weeks), but for all I know, he could also have ordered panda fur and unicorn tails as well. It doesn’t take long for Jolene to see through this and she mutters to herself “very clever - shame that I’m one step ahead of you; I just need to make a few calls.”

The upshot is that she has had 175 suggestions for names (‘John’ was a particularly unimaginative one - presumably sent in by someone called John, do you reckon?) and Kenton is startled when brother Dave turns up with a shedload of wood, ordered by Jolene and dumped outside the pub, so that Kenton can get on with constructing the aviary.

As we have just mentioned David, let’s examine his part in last week’s stories. It wasn’t the best of weeks for him, as he was waiting around for Josh’s latest hen house to be delivered and he got a message that it wouldn’t be first thing, as had been promised, but sometime on a day whose name ended in a Y at some unspecified time in the future. David was at a loss to understand what was so important about delivering eggs that his eldest son couldn’t be at Brookfield to oversee his own delivery. Perhaps you should have asked him that before you let him go, David.

Things took a turn for the worse when Brian phoned up - he was on the combine, harvesting the barley, when he ploughed into a pile of fly-tipped rubbish. This included some glass and it turned out that particles of glass were found in the harvested grain and the whole batch will have to be dumped. To rub salt into the wound, as the landowner, David is responsible for clearing up the mess, which he does, amid much grumbling.

If he can find out who dumped the rubbish, he vows, he will empty his slurry pit through their kitchen window. But then he has a stroke of luck - there is a junk mail envelope with a name on it and Hercule Archer is on the scent and goes round to confront the miscreant.

It was not a very satisfactory confrontation, as the name was that of Joy Horville and, as David went through his well-rehearsed speech about fly tipping, it became obvious that she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about - she had been approached (“by a very nice man”) who had agreed to take her domestic rubbish away and then disposed of it illegally. Joy was distraught at all the trouble that had been caused and, for his part, David felt a bit of a heel for upsetting her. Later on, he did think it was hysterically funny that they were shouting to make themselves heard at a socially respectable distance. Joy even offered David a cupcake.

Another Archer who featured last week was Elizabeth, who is toying with the idea of getting into online dating and fills out a dating profile, which she sends to Jolene to check over. Jolene is pleased that Elizabeth has made this move, but she is not impressed with some of the answers, especially one that says ‘describe yourself in three words’. 

Jolene says that it’s good to see Elizabeth is “getting her sparkle back” but J thinks that the profile could do with some pepping up. However, she describes Lizzie as “definitely my favourite Archer - and that includes Kenton” (bet he’d be pleased to hear that) and she sets to to add a little pizzazz to what appears to be an otherwise somewhat tedious document. 

We learn later that Jolene’s three-word suggestion for a description of Lizzie is ‘Sophisticated - quietly wild’ and Elizabeth sends off the form, with just one amendment, when she deletes the bit about looking for excitement in the bedroom. We await reactions from possible suitors with interest - and no, Iftikar, don’t bother replying. 

We return to SgtB’s radio debut. Kenton is listening in The Bull and, when SGtB comes on the air, Kenton says “Come on Harrison; knock ‘em dead, son.” However, it does not go well to start with, as Harrison, much to Kenton’s disgust, plays down rural policing. He than talks about why he got into policing - it appears that he was badly bullied at secondary school and it was only when he went to 6^th form college that he blossomed and got some confidence back, branching out into acting and singing.

He vowed that he would never ignore anyone in trouble, as he knows what it’s like to be powerless. This is why he joined the police - he “could give a voice to the voiceless and power to the powerless.” Back at The Bull, Kenton is impressed, saying: “Honest, vulnerable and brave - good on yer, mate; what was I thinking? You didn’t need me.”

Kenton wasn’t the only one to be impressed, as callers to the radio station ask if they can do some front door applause for Harrison after the show? “Of course we can” mutters Kenton and urges everyone to gather on the village green and applaud their local copper. This they do, and Kenton leads the clapping. He then says that he’ll move the wood into the beer garden and start on constructing the aviary. Then he’ll “help Jolene pick the winning name for our precious peacock - who knows; I might even learn to love the thing.”

Back in the studio, Harrison, who has been wracked by worries all week about his relationship with Fallon - they have not been talking since he double booked their date night with the radio broadcast - finishes his broadcast by paying tribute “to my beautiful wife” who has had to put up with his long hours and extended absences. He calls her “amazing” and that he loves her more than ever. As he leaves the studio, he is aware of the sound of clapping and realises that it is in his honour. Even better for Harrison, he sees that Fallon is enthusiastically joining in the applause and she is grinning widely, with just the hint of a tear in her eye.

The Aldridges Take Centre Stage

 

Tamsin Greig (Debbie Aldridge)

Last week’s episodes prominently featured the Aldridge family and it was especially nice to hear so much from Debbie, stranded in Hungary by the coronavirus outbreak. The week kicked off with Brian delivering a monologue to young Xander - Jennifer had decided that Adam and Ian could do with a decent night’s sleep and so she offered to have her grandson over for a sleepover. However, as we learn, nobody explained to Xander exactly what a sleepover entails and Jenny was up and down all night looking after him.

Brian tells Xander that the Aldridges are “a funny old bunch, but somehow it seems to work.” He then goes off on a tangent about the various family members and tells his grandson that he really misses Debbie - he wishes the rest of the family were as sensible as her.

Adam appears to have spent most of the night worrying about the state of Home Farm the cherries are ready to harvest and he is desperately short of pickers, with none being available from Eastern Europe. No-one could ever accuse Adam of being a glass-half-full person and he gloomily reflects that they are in danger of losing half the cherry crop. He decides not to mention his problem to Brian, who would probably only blame his stepson.

Thinking of Brian leads Adam off on a tangent of his own and he thinks Brian could “show a bit more humility, the way he’s fouled things up over the years.”  Adam adds: “I could have killed him over the Siobhan thing” and describes the way that Jennifer reacted and coped with all that as “amazing.”

Meanwhile, over in Hungary, Debbie is on the phone to Elaine, the wife of Roger Travers-Macy; her father and the man who brought Adam up when Roger married Jennifer. The marriage didn’t last and Jennifer and Roger split up, although Adam had taken the surname Macy. Roger, it appears, had contracted coronavirus and was recovering, but since then he has taken a turn for the worse. Debbie feels frustrated, as she is stuck in Hungary and unable to return to the UK because of the pandemic. Nevertheless, she feels that she ought to tell Adam. 

Adam wonders what does Debbie expect him to do? He’s facing an acute labour shortage and he’s got a baby, so there’s no way that he can drop everything and shoot off to Scotland with so much on his plate. Privately, Debbie thinks he’s unfeeling, as Roger raised Adam as his own. “Why is it always me who has to sort these things out?” She ponders.

Debbie isn’t the only Aldridge female who has problems - incidentally, if you are wondering how come Debbie’s surname is Aldridge, instead of Travers-Macy, Brian wanted his stepchildren to take his surname, but Roger objected, so Adam and Debbie simply dropped the ‘Travers’. Later on, Debbie started to call herself ‘Aldridge’, but she has never formalised the change, as far as I’m aware - but back to the family.

Alice is not a happy bunny - she is working from home, but keeps getting nit-picking e-mails from Arun, her manager. What makes it worse is that both she and Arun were up for the manager’s job, but Alice was overlooked - something she feels very bitter about. Even worse, Alice has ordered a case of wine online and today is the scheduled delivery date, so where the hell is it? Calls and e-mails reveal that it is in transit, but that’s not quick enough for Alice, who needs it NOW!

I won’t say that Alice is obsessed with alcohol, but she contacts Adam and asks him if he has any rejected cherries that she can have in order to make some home-brewed cherry brandy. In answer, Adam tells her about his shortage of pickers and asks her if she can ring round local families and try to round up a team of pickers. Alice is not sympathetic and thinks that Adam has got it easy - he should try working for Price Baumann (her company).

However, blood (or even half blood) is thicker than water and she is so fed up that she does ring round as many people as she can think of. The result is uniformly disappointing, as everyone is too busy. Even Freddie cannot make it - we assume that he is still looking for parts to fix the toilet (see last week’s blog) or that he realises that, with no foreign workforce, there’s no-one to sell drugs to. That was unkind and I am ever-so-slightly sorry.

Emma Grundy was particularly sharp with Alice and, at the end of all these calls, Alice has managed to recruit the grand total of (drum roll) - one person. And that one person is Molly Button, who is probably not the best worker in the world; or even in Ambridge, come to that. Alice decides to concentrate on her paid employment and she receives and e-mail from her MD, who wants a video call at 3pm. However, it’s an ill wind, as they say and, shortly after getting this message, the wine turns up and Alice is so eager to get her hands on it that she practically leaps on the person delivering it, to the extent that he takes a couple of startled steps backward as this frenzied woman opens the front door and lunges at him. Whatever happened to social distancing?

While Alice is getting into the wine, her husband Chris is contemplating getting into a possible new income stream; for Harrison’s and Fallon’s wedding, he made a wrought-iron garden ornament of a tree sculpture. One of their friends (Louis) was so taken by this that he commissioned a tree sculpture to mark the arrival of his new baby and Chris foresees the chance of branching out (pun intended) into a new business. But what type of tree? Eventually, he decides that an oak would be good, but Louis’s father-in-law (who is paying for the sculpture) thinks that a birch would be better, as it is a symbol of regeneration.

As Chris is pondering this, Alice rings and says “I’ve got some brilliant news!” What is it? A BOGOF at the wine bar? No; she’s packed in her job. In fact, as she tells us (while pouring a wine, naturally) “they can take their job and shove it where the sun don’t shine - I’m taking my qualifications, my expertise and my contacts elsewhere; I’m done.”

Chris remarks that she sounded happier than she has been for months (that’ll be the wine) and the pair celebrate with a bottle, or more, of bubbly. The following day, Alice is up bright and early and, in a call to Debbie, she tells her about jacking in the job, and asks her not to tell Brian or Jenny yet - she doesn’t want them to worry. Debbie notes that Alice is knocking back the vino and she wonders whether to have a word about it with Chris, or to keep out of it. Well, what do you reckon happens? Spot on - she calls Chris and he says that, yes, Alice enjoys a drink (a drink?) but so does he and he’s never seen her happier.

How much of this happiness is a façade, though? Alice is assailed by doubts - has she burned her boats? What if P-B won’t give her a reference, or they give her a bad one? Chris knows nothing of this and he is convinced she has done the right thing, as she looks peaceful and as happy as the girl he married 10 years ago. What? Is it really 10 years? Chris’s thoughts turn to his sculpture commission for Louis’s new baby and he wonders if he and Alice might be celebrating a birth of their own this time next year. “I won’t mention it; not yet” he says. 

Good call, Chris, especially as you and Alice do not seem to have decided when, or in Alice’s case, even if, you want to start a family. Alice has always used the excuse that she wanted to establish her career first, but as she has just told her MD to stuff his job, this might not be a tenable excuse any longer. It might be worth remembering, too, that Alice will be 32 in this September. Having said that, I cannot really see her giving up the drink for the duration of a pregnancy.

Let’s go back, more or less, to where we started, with Adam’s worries about having no fruit pickers. Brian learns of this and wonders why didn’t Adam ask him to help? That’s recruiting pickers, not doing any picking himself, I should add. “Maybe I can rustle up a crew” he asks himself.

As it turns out, it’s not so much a crew, as a whole navy - Adam is apportioning jobs and, among the names mentioned are Kenton, Jolene, Fallon, Kirsty, Tracy and the entire Grundy family (Eddie, Will, Clarrie, Emma and even Ed, whom Adam sacked a few months ago - the two men shook hands when Ed arrived). Alice was there too, telling Adam and Brian that she was pulling a sickie from work. This turnout is little short of miraculous, given Alice’s conspicuous lack of success in recruiting workers, and I can only assume that Brian has left a few loaded shotguns ostentatiously on display. Even Ian is picking, which gives Adam the chance to spend a day with Xander. How thrilled everybody is to be given their orders and then to see the boss go off to play with his son, we aren’t told.

We are told that Adam and Xander have a wonderful time cooking and playing with edible paint, making a complete mess of the kitchen. When Ian returns from the polytunnels, he sees the mess and just laughs - I tell you, the man is a saint.

Debbie has had a long conversation with dad Roger, who told her that the Aldridges have always been chaotic. It was nice, she thinks to have someone ask her about her life and thoughts for a change and not expect her worry about others in the family. Adam, meanwhile, is undergoing a period of introspection and resolves to do more with Roger and to help Debbie with him.

Adam adds that Brian has really been a star today and he really came to Adam’s rescue. Adam is ashamed of his earlier thoughts when he blamed Brian for the affair with Siobhan “Cheating is cheating” Adam says, and admits that his behaviour with Pawel and then Charlie was as culpable as Brian’s with Siobhan. “If Ian hadn’t forgiven me, I wouldn’t have a marriage or a son.”  Adam realises his family is unique - “a mad mix of parents, grandparents and children; but somehow, despite everything, it works.” And this note of self-realisation from a male member of the Aldridge family, dear reader, is where we came in…

What More Could A Man Want In A Wife?

 

Emerald O’Hanrahan (Emma Grundy)

Let’s hear it for Emma Grundy. Husband Ed is away in deepest Wales, shearing sheep with Jazzer, but part of his mind is back at Grange Farm, worrying about the hay harvest. The hay has been cut, but needs turning regularly to dry it out and it needs to be got in before the weather breaks. This job has been delegated to Eddie and Will and Emma has been tasked with making sure that they get on with it.

Easier said than done - she gets in touch with them, but they are too busy to do it today. On the plus side, we learn that the tedder is ready to be hitched up to the tractor. In last week’s blog, we learned exactly what a ‘super’ is, in relation to beekeeping, and I commented that we like our blog to be informative and educational as well as (hopefully) amusing. In this vein, let’s explore what a ‘tedder’ is, and what it does. Agricultural experts may wish to skip the next few lines.

A tedder (or ‘hay tedder’) is a machine used in haymaking after cutting, which uses moving forks to aerate, or ’wuffle’ (I’m not making this up, I promise) the hay and speed up the haymaking process. It allows the hay to dry better, which, as I am sure you will appreciate, significantly improves aroma and colour. I thought that everybody knew that, but back to Emma. She realises that Eddie and Will are about as much good as an ashtray on a motorbike and if the hay is going to be turned (tedded?) then it is down to her and George.

To cut a long story short, the pair do a sterling job (although Emma notes that her son seems to have a disconcertingly comprehensive knowledge for his age of how to drive a tractor, until Emma takes over). The hay is turned and, when Ed returns from Wales, he takes a rest in the hayfield and is delighted with the job his wife has done, saying to himself that he is so glad that he never lost Emma and that they are all back together on Grange Farm. Emma, he thinks is “beautiful, clever and can handle a tractor - what more could a man want in a wife?” I can make one or two suggestions, offhand, but whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

The only cloud in Ed’s sky is that, when he returns from Wales, totally knackered, he finds that Will has, despite Ed’s express instructions, parked his car inconveniently, making it difficult for Ed to get his machinery and equipment into the barn. Ed lost his rag with his brother, but it was soon smoothed over and both men had a good laugh when they saw their children imitating them arguing with each other.

And now, a word of advice; if you ever want your broken toilet repaired, then don’t call Freddie Pargetter. Why not? Well, to paraphrase Winston Churchill, ‘give him the job and he will finish the tools.’ Monday sees him talking to himself, as is happening so often with the denizens of Ambridge nowadays, as he manages to get the cistern to fill up, then panicking when it won’t stop. Elizabeth wonders why Freddie didn’t get one of the maintenance staff to do it, but Freddie seems to think that a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do and this job is down to him.

This is bad news for everybody else at Lower Loxley; especially for Elizabeth, as the other family members are using her en-suite. Now, I find it hard to believe that a place the size of Lower Loxley has only one functioning bathroom and toilet - didn’t Jill have a bedroom and bathroom when she stayed there for a while a few years back? Whatever, Freddie is determined to see the job through. 

Given that, it is surprising that we next find Freddie on the treetop walk, which starts him thinking about his late father. Freddie has something else on his mind, which is that Lynda has written him a letter, and which he is trying to pluck up the courage to open - with his gift for procrastination, it could be a long time before Lynda gets a response.

But, back at the toilet… Freddie’s search as now taken him to the Lower Loxley attic, where Reg assures him that he ought to be able to find a blue bag containing various tools and bits of toilet paraphernalia and spare parts. Instead, Freddie finds a box of toy soldiers, which takes him back a bit, and a pile of paintings, which is yet another distraction. All thoughts of plumbing are now banished, and Freddie resolves to read Lynda’s letter (altogether now: GET BACK TO THE DAMN TOILET, FREDDIE!).

Lynda’s letter is an apology for the things she said when Freddie visited her in hospital (she had told him that she wishes he had never saved her after the explosion) and he says that he will write back to her. Perhaps you could ask her if she knows anything about plumbing, Freddie. I know you are all on tenterhooks, so I’ll tell you now that, miraculously, Freddie does manage to fix the toilet - a feat which, in his eventual letter to Lynda at the end of the week, he compares to painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling. He tells her that he realises how much he loves his home and he looks forward to showing Lynda the hidden secrets of Lower Loxley - well, you’ve certainly visited most of the place looking for parts for the toilet, Freddie. He signs the letter “love, Freddie.”

A big story last week was the virtual pub quiz at The Bull and the deadly rivalry between sisters Susan and Tracy. I do not propose to go into too much detail, but suffice it to say that both are trying to poach villagers for their respective quiz teams. Ed is getting calls from both Susan and Tracy to join their teams (just what you need when you are shearing sheep in Wales) and he isn’t really interested. He decides to toss a coin, but eventually thinks that he cannot be bothered and ducks out of the quiz altogether. 

Susan is using her radio show to try and poach members of the cricket team, but Tracy imposes a three-line-whip. Susan plays a record for her sister, but Queen’s ‘We are the champions’ is a tad tactless, to say the least.

It turns out later on that the teams have to be re-jigged and Susan finds herself in a team alongside Neil, Brian and Jennifer Aldridge and - Tracy. Susan, rather unwisely, fortifies herself beforehand with a couple of gin and tonics and, by her own admission, is “a bit tipsy”. 

Fast forward to the morning after and Susan is hungover. Her memory is somewhat hazy, but she remembers a couple of questions that she got right, including one at the expense of team-mate Jennifer. She also remembers that Neil poured her another G+T. Tracy recalls things differently; Susan apparently called Jenny ’a snotty-nosed cow’ and this sparked a lively debate among the team, to the extent that Lilian (quiz organiser) muted Susan for the final 20 minutes of the quiz.

Things are coming back to Susan, and she is worried; she hopes that she didn’t say anything too outrageous, but recalls “Mum always said that, when I was a kid, I should have had a brake fitted to my mouth.” Regular readers of this blog will not be astonished to learn that I think that I think Susan’s mother was obviously a very perceptive lady.

The quiz drew the two sisters together and there were many comments along the lines of ‘blood is thicker than water’, although Tracy is still of the opinion that Susan is herself a stuck-up cow. Nevertheless, there are protestations of sisterly love by both sisters.

Love, or the possibility thereof, is on the mind of Freddie’s mother Elizabeth, as she watches (and takes part in) one of Kate’s online yoga lessons. Elizabeth has Kate muted, which sounds totally logical to me, and her mind is wandering. One of the participants on screen is Iftikar; the erstwhile maths tutor of Freddie, and Elizabeth cannot help thinking that he looks pretty good. 

When Ifty was giving Freddie extra-curricular lessons, there was a suggestion that he might also like to give Lizzie some extra-curricular tuition, but not in mathematics. As it turned out, Elizabeth didn’t feel that she was ready for a relationship (or even a night of passion in a tent - and yes, I do mean you Roy) so Ifty sank without trace. 

Coming back to the present, we learn that Ifty has requested a video chat and that it’s good to be in touch again. Elizabeth’s mind seems to have flown off to another planet, as she wonders how her children would react if she and Ifty got together? She can’t remember what it’s like to share a bed (presumably this does not apply to sleeping bags). From here her imagination takes a massive leap and she says (to herself, of course) that, if they got married, she wouldn’t want to change her name. What? Talk about looking ahead - she hasn’t even agreed to the video chat yet.

Talking of which, she eventually decides to go ahead (only to the video chat, I should add). This throws up a whole new set of complications - what to wear? Smart or casual? Make-up or not? Should she do something about her greying hair? In the end, she ended up with just a hint of make-up and a semi-smart get-up. On the other hand, Ifty was scruffy and was cooking and eating on screen and Lizzie found the whole date - and, indeed, Ifty - very boring and not at all attractive. She admitted (to herself, of course) that she had been getting quite excited at the thought of getting dressed up and what might happen, but: “Now I’m thinking ‘do I want to be on my own for ever? [pause] I don’t know if I do.” Memo to Roy Tucker - get the tent out and give it an airing.