Too Much Information

 

Carole Boyd (Lynda Snell)

Lynda has a plan; she is preparing a surprise meal for Robert - coq au vin – followed by a bit of hanky and, if he’s really lucky, some panky as well. She spends all the afternoon trying on various items of clothing and jewellery and bemoaning the fact that her hair hasn’t grown back and that she still has scars from her injuries.

The meal progresses, but it is punctuated by long periods of silence. Robert is quite comfortable with the situation, but Lynda is finding it all a bit of an ordeal and chides herself for hiding in the kitchen and behaving “like a silly girl going on a first date”. Eventually she decides on a plan of action – she will march into the lounge, kiss her husband and drag him upstairs. Never mind dessert; love is on the menu, or, as Lynda puts it “We’ll let our bodies do the talking.”

Yuck! Way too much information! Fortunately for us, Lynda’s cunning plan goes badly awry and, when she suggests to Robert that they could have an early night, nudge, nudge, he assumes she has tired herself out cooking the meal and he says that he could take her up a cup of cocoa. As for letting their bodies do the talking, it seems that all Robert’s body wants to say is ‘goodnight, sleep tight. See you in the morning.’

As seductions go, it could have turned out better and, the following morning, Robert is congratulating himself on showing restraint, as he is convinced that Lynda still needs time before they start thinking about “resuming normal relations”, whereas she is, in fact, not to put too fine a point on it, gagging for it.

All this has put Lynda in a bad mood – never before has Robert ignored one of her euphemisms and she cannot remember ever having been rejected. Oh come on Lynda – surely you must have been. She notices that Robert is looking at her over the top of his newspaper and this annoys her even more. Robert is just being so damn nice about everything and it is driving Lynda mad “The man’s a saint” she says, crossly, and admits to herself that she has been extremely difficult to live with. “I just want to be treated normally” she complains.

In the end, she challenges Robert to write down everything that he doesn’t like about her, which makes me think that the demand for paper will lead to widespread, worldwide deforestation, not to mention terminal writer’s cramp. Go on Robert, drag her upstairs, rip her clothes off and – I’m sorry, dear readers, but my mind is filling up with images that I just know are going to haunt me, so I will stop here before I am ill.

One positive thing to come out of the Lynda episode is that Emma is delivering a cake as part of the surprise for Robert and she remarks on how beautiful Lynda looks. Is the meal for a special occasion? No, replies Lynda – she just wanted to do something nice for Robert. Emma is impressed that she still feels this way after so many years of marriage and Emma resolves to do something similar for Ed when he gets home. So it is that Ed is (we hope pleasantly) surprised when he opens the front door and his wife leaps upon him. Makes a change from a cup of tea.

Emma is having her own troubles (and I don’t mean the format of the Flower and Produce show). Fallon, whose wedding anniversary it is, runs into Natasha. Fallon is having a meeting with Helen, to discuss the possibility of extending the rent reduction period. If not, Fallon fears that she will have to let Emma go, but she’s not giving up without a fight. As Fallon walks off to her meeting, Natasha mutters that she doesn’t much fancy Emma’s chances.

Helen is adamant that the rent reduction holiday is over and Fallon meets up with Alice (I thought she was working all hours at Home Farm?). You will not be gobsmacked to learn that strong drink is taken and Fallon ends up at home, slightly mellow (as the newt) and says that she ought not to open the bottle of champagne that she has bought so that she and Harrison can celebrate their second anniversary. This seems a tad hard on Sgt Burns, but being a policeman, he’s probably used to the odd incident of crushing disappointment. 

Emma meets up accidentally with Natasha, who sympathises with her and says that she is sure that Emma’s record will look good on her CV and wishes her all the best for the ‘potential restructuring’ in the future, and that Fallon “has to concentrate on what is best for the business.” It may be that Emma thinks that ‘potential restructuring’ means putting up another shelf in the tearoom, but Natasha is away to host a webinar, organised by a couple of friends of hers, who have brilliant jobs, glittering careers and an idyllic marriage. As Natasha makes ‘got to run, sorry’ noises, Emma is floundering, having belatedly realised that, for ‘potential restructuring’, read ‘potential P45 for Emma’.

Natasha assumed (wrongly) that Fallon would have discussed all the ramifications with Emma. Emma is incensed and all for sending a nasty e-mail to her employer. Her draft doesn’t actually start off with ‘Hello Judas, you traitorous bastard...’ but it comes close. Fortunately, she runs it past Ed before sending and he suggests that she moderates her vitriol by something like a factor of ten. After all, Emma, you never know if you might need a reference to get your job back at the chicken factory.

Eventually, the inevitable happens and Fallon and Emma meet up to talk about the situation. Emma has a big speech prepared about how much she loves her job and how much commitment she has shown to the Tea Room, but Fallon forestalls this by bursting into tears and saying how hard she has looked to try and save Emma’s job and that Emma is a good, true friend. 

As Emma says to herself later, this pulls the rug out from under her feet and she devotes herself to dreaming up ideas to generate extra income, sending them to Fallon, who realises that most of them are pie-in-the-sky. These schemes include serving coffee in a lay by, or selling people ‘ingredient boxes’, which allow them to make a meal from scratch. Fallon scotches this latter idea; pointing out that this is essentially what Bridge Fresh offers.

But Emma’s not one to give up and she reasons with Fallon that, while the Tea Room has no shortage of customers, the trouble is that they have no room to accommodate them. But wait! What about the unused bit of orchard next to the Tea Room? You know – the one in which Jill keeps her goats? While the few tables that they have at present are out the front, near the car park, they could add more tables in the orchard and they would be beating people off with sticks. Evening meals too, maybe!

Fallon agrees that this could be a good idea, but Bridge Farm would have to agree – and what if they thought that they could charge for this land, which is doing the square root of sod-all at the moment in generating income? “What we need is someone to broker the deal” says Fallon. Cue the mad (because she married Tom) Welsh lady; Natasha.

Natasha has had a nasty knock to her confidence recently; her webinar was cancelled 15 minutes before she was due to go online (and she was really upset, as she had spent ages getting dressed and made up for it). Added to this, the ‘golden couple’ referred to earlier have hit a bump in the road – not only was the webinar cancelled at short notice, but the couple’s business is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Oh yes – they are also on the verge of getting a divorce. Apart from that, everything is hunky dory.

She thinks that Emma’s idea of using the orchard could be a goer and she’s surprised that it never occurred to her. She’s surprised – I thought that Natasha’s business involved growing fruit trees for her Drinks Empire – what part of the word ‘orchard’ is she having trouble in getting her head round? To be fair, she does describe the plot of land as ‘a field with a few fruit trees’, so perhaps we shouldn’t judge her too harshly.

Let’s hope that the Bridge Farm mob don’t think that they have overlooked a potential revenue stream and that they go along with Fallon’s idea that offering the unused orchard should be included in the rent rise, rather than charging more for the land. I’m sure that, if they raise objections, Natasha could make their lives a misery, although, to be honest, with Tony, Pat and Tom in the family, it is difficult to see exactly just how it could be much worse…

Robert Turns Cyber Detective

Graham Blockey (Robert Snell)

Robert Snell is in the bird hide, waiting for Jim Lloyd, but when Jim turns up, there is a surprise – he’s not alone. He is accompanied by Edmund; a newcomer and, if his stories are to be believed, a red-hot birder who has seen all sorts of rarities, and who is not shy in telling his companions about them.

Robert is a bit put out by Edmund’s presence; not only is he boastful, but Robert was looking forward to spending some time alone with his friend Jim and Edmund’s presence means that the three of them in the hide cannot properly maintain social distancing. A disgruntled Robert returns home, where Lynda is surprised to see him so soon. Lynda has her own problems – she was enjoying a spot of peaceful gardening, when her back went suddenly and she was laying on the ground, unable to move. So great was her pain that she let out a yelp that scared off Monty.

By a supreme effort of will, Lynda manages to get herself upright and, when Robert turns up, she makes an excuse and locks herself in the toilet, determined not to spoil things for Robert. “I can manage on my own” she says, through pain-clenched teeth.

Meantime, Robert is engaged in unmasking Edmund as the fraud that he believes him to be, forensically examining Edmund’s website and blog. Jim has challenged Robert to prove wrongdoing on Edmund’s part and Robert accepted the challenge eagerly, utilising all his IT know-how and the latest software. Eventually, Robert discovers a photograph of a spoonbill that he believes has been faked (be honest Robert – it was the picture of a pterodactyl nest in Edmund’s apple tree that put you on the right track, wasn’t it?).

Robert is ecstatic and says out loud “Got you Edmund, you fraudster!” Later, he rings Jim and leaves a triumphant message on his answerphone. I never had Robert down as the vindictive type, but he positively gloats when he says (to himself) that, with Robert’s proof, Jim can report Edmund to the ornithological society and they might kick him out.

Why stop there, Robert? For so heinous a crime, why don’t they stake Edmund out in the open and let an eagle eat his liver, as happened to Prometheus as punishment for giving fire to humanity? Admittedly, Prometheus’s liver regenerated overnight, ready for another session on the morrow (we are never told if the eagle thought ‘bloody hell – not liver again’). Of course, perhaps they ought to keelhaul Edmund first – some crimes are beyond the pale, after all.

Over at Honeysuckle Cottage, Adam spends half his time in pain and, when he is forced to take his painkillers, the rest of the time away with the fairies. He bombards Alice with e-mails, requesting the latest data and situation reports. Adam resolves to go over to Home Farm to see for himself, but he doesn’t even make it to the front door and, anyway, Ian refuses to drive him. Ian also makes Adam take his painkillers, and Adam admits that his leg has stopped throbbing – the clue is in the name ‘painkillers’, Adam.

Alice isn’t enjoying herself much at Home Farm; she needs someone to drive the tractor to get the barley harvest in – Josh is down  on the rota, but he has cried off. Who can Alice get, bearing in mind that we are in the middle of the harvesting season? Consequently, all her contacts are busy. But wait! There’s always Ed. Never mind that Adam sacked him when he was running dodgy chemicals for Tim Oatey, nor that losing that job meant that he and Emma lost their chance of buying a house on the Beechwood development – Ed’s not one to bear a grudge, is he?

Er, apparently he is, as he politely tells Alice to do one. Actually, that’s unfair, as he tells her that he’s doing work for someone else and cannot let them down. When Alice rings off, Ed says (to himself, of course) that he doesn’t need Home Farm. Remember the proverb about cutting off noses to spite faces, Ed. An increasingly-desperate Alice rings him again and asks him to name his own price. This is a dangerous thing to say to a Grundy – lucky it wasn’t Eddie she was asking (and where is Eddie by the way – why wasn’t he asked to drive the tractor?).

Anyway, Ed is somewhat taken aback and, daringly, asks for double time. He is taken aback even further when she snaps his hand off and tells him to start right away. Adam is a tad mystified when he gets a message from Brian, saying that Ed is doing a great job driving the tractor. “What else are they keeping from me?” he wonders. Why not hop over and ask them, Adam?

The barley is safely gathered in, but Adam still has reservations – “The harvest is a marathon, not a sprint” he says, wondering whether Alice has the stamina to see it through. He admits that Alice did well to get Ed to do the work, describing him as “the best tractor driver in Ambridge” and that Alice did well to persuade him. Wait till you get the invoice, Adam! He is also surprised when he gets an e-mail from Alice, containing data about the spring barley. Even better, apparently it is top quality, ideal for malting. One is tempted to say that, if anyone knows about malting quality, it would be Alice, not that malt is used much in vodka production. 

And that brings us, rather neatly, to what might be termed ‘Alice’s attempt to become Auntie Lilian’, or possibly ‘Alice the Lush’. While she was having her mini crisis over trying to persuade Ed to drive the tractor, Alice was muttering things like “I know dad always keeps a bottle in the office – where is it?” before unearthing a bottle of Scotch and tipping some into her morning coffee.

The subject of alcohol looms large in the Carter household – Alice and Chris have made this pact (although Alice is in denial) that there will be no mid-week drinking. Chris is beating himself up, as he went to see Ed, who pressed a can of lager upon him. Chris tried to refuse, but to no avail. He was full of remorse and even left half of it (I bet Alice would have finished it off for him), little knowing that Alice is having a daily service to take away the empties (well, maybe not every day).

Chris has found an empty vodka bottle in the shed where Alice has been secretly drinking and sent his wife an accusatory message, suggesting that perhaps she has not been adhering to their ‘no drinks in mid-week’ agreement. Personally, I cannot believe that, when he opened the shed door, he was not buried under a what-could-be-fatal avalanche of empty spirit and wine bottles. No drinks in mid-week? Alice hasn’t even been sticking to a ‘no drinks before getting dressed’ policy.

There is a slight disagreement, and Alice says (again to herself) that the bottle could have been there for years and she is very disappointed that Chris assumed it was her bottle, ignoring the fact that, in fact, it was hers. If I were Chris, I’d get Sgt Burns to run a fingerprint check. I suspect the story about Alice’s drinking will run and run.

Let’s return to Honeysuckle Cottage, where Ian is playing with Xander; Ian has got out the toy farm and they are having a great time. However, Adam notices that there are one or two discrepancies; Xander has not set up the cow sheds near to the milking parlour, for God’s sake, plus he has put the lion in the same field as the sheep and placed the shark in the duck pond. The more astute among you will have gathered that the farm set has been amalgamated with the zoo animals.

Adam puts things right and starts thinking that he has been having a great time at home with his son. This view is reinforced when Xander takes his first-ever steps and a delighted Adam videos the occasion and sends it to practically everyone in the Western world. He starts thinking further ahead about how he could spend more time with his son – perhaps Jill could be persuaded to be a child minder?

Her reaction is ‘occasional babysitter yes, childminder, no’. Adam wonders about an au pair, nursery and boarding school (I made that last up) but Ian is implacably opposed to anything that eats into time spent with their son. Good job you didn’t mention that you’ve put his name down for Eton, Adam! For God’s sake, he’s only just started walking!

Bearing in mind that Adam is definitely a control freak, it seems quite a volte face that he is, in effect, looking for someone with whom to have a job share with his responsibilities at Home Farm. But whom can he trust? He tells Alice of his dilemma, and reveals that Brian refers to her as his “golden child” and is full of praise for her efforts so far. It is during this conversation that Adam drops his – for want of a better word – bombshell; has Alice considered taking on more management of Home Farm, thus allowing Adam more time with Xander? He adds that he has run the idea past Brian and he is all for it. Alice immediately replies “absolutely not” but Adam urges her to at least consider it.

On her own later, Alice says “Work at Home Farm permanently? He’s got to be kidding.” Over a drink (yes, I too raised an eyebrow) she says “Farmer Alice – I don’t even know if that’s what I want.” She adds that working at Home Farm has been exhausting and she doesn’t know if she can do it. “Sooner or later, I’m going to let them all down!” Alice says, morosely. Tell you what Alice, why don’t you mull it over over a little drink? You know how things always seem so much clearer when you have had a quick snifter - or two…

Alice To The Rescue – Reluctantly

Hollie Chapman (Alice Carter)

Are things starting to get back to normal in Ambridge? I ask this because last week we actually had two characters (Fallon and Emma) meeting and having a conversation of sorts, instead of a monologue or a phone conversation where we only hear one end. Perhaps the shape of things to come?

Before we talk about that, let’s start at the beginning of the week. Brian is out looking for Adam, whom he is going to meet as they are going to start combining the wheat. Adam is nowhere to be seen and Brian is annoyed. “During the whole Ruairi thing I never missed a day’s work” he says, rather self-righteously. From this we deduce that he only bonked Siobhan on his days off, or Bank Holidays and, given the choice, I cannot help thinking that Jennifer would have preferred her husband to have taken some time off, rather than suddenly present her with his love-child and pointing to his exemplary work attendance record. 

But back to Adam, who is laying in a field, with a leg at a rather unnatural angle. We learn later that he left the handbrake off the Land Rover and, when it started to roll downhill, he tried to leap into it and stop it, with a singular lack of success, as it ran over his leg. Brian calls for an ambulance. At the hospital, they perform surgery on the ankle, plus Adam has snapped his cruciate ligaments. But Hey! Look on the bright side – he could have been run over by the combine harvester and that would have been so much worse.

Adam, trouper that he is, is worried about the harvest; who will do it? Well, it won’t be you, will it you Muppet? Brian says he can cope with the combining, but he will need help in the office – to whom can he turn? On Tuesday, Alice reveals that her father has asked her to take up the reins and she is not keen. “I have my own work” she pouts. True; those bottles of Pinot Grigio won’t remove their own corks you know, “Besides I’m not a farmer” she adds (this is all monologue, by the way) and she resolves to tell Brian ‘thanks, but no thanks’ later on.

Time for one of our famous digressions; I live in a village where the local pub is a meeting place for Young Farmers and, periodically, they descend like locusts. I have no doubt that they are hard-working sons (and daughters) of the soil, but they do have one outstanding talent and that is to get outside as many drinks as is humanly possible in whatever time is available. Their success in this ambition can be gauged by the steadily-rising level of background noise and occasional shrieks of laughter. I submit that Alice Carter would blend seamlessly with this environment. As such, she is probably as much of a farmer as at least half of the swarm who regularly block up our bar. She could even qualify for Regional Chair or whatever the higher-ranking officials are called.

Back to the story – Chris Carter is annoyed, as he has a tricky shoeing tomorrow and he wants to be at his best to counter the negative comments being put about by Thandi; a dissatisfied customer. Trouble is that Alice has decided that she needs some time to celebrate (celebrate what, for God’s sake?) and the noise they are making (see earlier regarding Young Farmers) is keeping him awake. Even worse, he and Alice have an agreement that there will be no drinking on weekday nights (I bet she had her fingers crossed when she agreed to that). As it is, she tells him that she was drinking tonic water, which is probably partly true.

Chris, Alice decides, is in danger of becoming boring and it will be cocoa and jigsaws before you know it. “Work can be fun” she tells herself, which begs the question ‘how would she know?’ Alice says that Chris cannot handle temptation, and so the logical thing to do is remove it from his sight. She, on the other hand, is in total control and “I can say that this will be my last vodka,” adding as she drinks it “If I wanted to.” To save Chris from temptation, she has found a disused shed in which to stash her stores of alcohol. Presumably she’s hoping that Chris won’t notice that the house is half-empty when he returns. Belatedly, Alice remembers that she was going to tell Brian ‘no thanks’ to the job and she starts to text him. Too late! Brian has pre-empted her and messaged that, as he had no answer, he assumed she agreed. Home Farm needs her, her father says.

She is hiding in her shed when Brian turns up, but he doesn’t find her. No matter – he sends her a message: “See you at farm 8am tomorrow. No excuses.” On reflection, she thinks that at least she will have use of Adam’s eco-office, which has got to be better than a shed (presumably it has a wine cooler). Wistfully, she remembers when she and Chris were on holiday in Valencia and sighs “I wish we were there now.” Bad idea, Alice; if you were, then on your return, you would both have to self-isolate for a fortnight, which would bugger up Chris’s work with the horses and mean no money coming in.

Alice’s first day proved to be quite successful – she managed to placate an irate customer who wondered where the combine was yesterday (by the time she’d finished explaining about Adam, the man was almost in tears and promised to send a card). The idea, Alice tells herself, is to appear to be in complete control (just like the drinking, then Alice?) or, as she puts it “Fake it till you make it.” You will not, I am sure, be surprised to hear that she celebrated her triumph with a drink.

Chris rang her at work to see how she got on and he says that he will cook something special for tonight. He even buys some sweet peas (I assume for decoration, rather than consumption). He wants to celebrate the successful delivery of Louis’s tree sculpture as well as Alice’s first day at work (the words ‘for quite some time’ remain unspoken). 

Chris is wondering if it is too early to light the candle, when the phone rings. It is his wife, who says that she has got to work late and, when Chris asks if there’s anything he can do, Alice quickly says no. In truth, she has decided to arrange a celebration with mates – every time she files something correctly seems to be a cause for a party. “You haven’t done anything special, have you?” she asks, adding that she’ll get a sandwich when she gets home and see you later. Chris says to himself that he will leave it in the oven and leaves the table set for her, with the sweet peas in a wine glass near her plate. “She’ll like that” he says confidently. That’s as maybe Chris, but I’m willing to bet that she would prefer a nice, large Shiraz.

Having spent a lot of time on Alice’s drinking habits, I propose to rush through the story concerning Fallon and Emma, mostly because it’s bloody boring and concerns whose vision of a virtual Flower & Produce Show is the better idea. Girls, it really, really doesn’t matter and nobody really cares that much - you’d be better off finding something more important to talk about.

I Fallon’s case, this could conceivably be trying to stop the Ambridge Tea Shop from becoming the ‘Ambridge ex-Tea Shop’. Times are hard and Helen has told Fallon that the rent holiday that she has been enjoying (the ATS is sited at Bridge Farm, so Helen and Tom are technically its landlords) will have to come to an end soon. Fallon desperately needs to come up with a plan to save the business and Helen suggests that Fallon asks Natasha for some ideas (how about ‘can you give me some money Natasha?’) for one?

Fallon is narked because husband Sgt Burns found a winning scratch card blowing around the Green, but he is unwilling to cash it in, saying that it either goes to the rightful owner or to a community project. Just beat him over the head and cash it, Fallon – after all, the ATS should surely qualify as a community amenity? Just don’t mention it to Johnny, who, by an almost unbelievable coincidence, has lost a winning scratch card. Failing that, Sgt B could issue a notice and ask anyone who has lost a scratch card to form an orderly queue outside the police station, although I doubt that such a building exists in the village.

Natasha’s analysis of the ATS problem is succinct and full of marketing hype, not to mention clichés, and Fallon is less than impressed. We have heard from Emma how lucky she feels to have a job and with a boss with whom she is good friends. Emma says Fallon knows that she can rely on her – indeed, Emma is more of a partner than an employee. 

Natasha has reminded Fallon that “there’s no room for sentiment in business” and Fallon is in a quandary – if she cannot negotiate a continuation in the rent reduction, then it looks very much that it will be ‘goodnight Emma’. Fallon sincerely wishes that Natasha had never stuck her oar in. This is especially true when Natasha recommends that they stop doing the upcycling – a business that is dear to Fallon’s heart, and one in which Sgt Burns invested some money before he and Fallon got together. 

Let’s consider for a moment – pre covid 19, there was more than enough work for Fallon and Emma and, should things return to near normal, they will still have the same workload; not enough for two, perhaps, but more than enough for one. And this is ignoring the fact that they supply cakes etc for Ambridge Fresh; Tom and Natasha’s online business. Come on Natasha – cut them some slack; at least for a while – you’re hardly going to have to sell the farm, are you? Sometimes there is room for sentiment in business.

Let us finish where we began, with Brian, who is reflecting on what a successful day it has been. He congratulates himself on a good day’s combining and says that it was a masterstroke to install Alice in the Home Farm office - how he told Adam what a good job she has done, and how it will be good for Alice’s confidence too. He pours himself a drink, saying “I’ve earned this” You can see where Alice gets it from, can’t you?

 

Costa del Ambridge

James Cartwright (Harrison Burns)

So another week of The Archers crashes in with Bellowhead’s folk-rock version of Arthur Woods’ Barwick Green. Not a pleasant way to start a Sunday if like me you prefer to rise late and in near-silence. I never thought I’d be nostalgic for the previous accordion arrangement (by The Yetties if you must know) but I’ve been listening to the new theme for so long now it’s become to define lockdown for me and let’s just say I’ve not warmed to it. By the way, I’ve got nothing against Bellowhead or folk-rock per se and I’m sure there’s a time and a place for it - just not at ten o’clock on a Sunday morning.

Harrison’s in the middle of turning Woodbine Cottage into a European all-inclusive staycation destination something-or-other for Fallon when he gets a message on his phone from a courier, Duane, about to deliver a parcel he’s expecting. “Handsome fella” he says. Is that a thing - getting a photo of your courier? I had a parcel delivered today and my courier’s name was apparently Igor. It would have been useful to have a photo of Igor, as the image that first sprung to mind was Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein and I couldn’t wait to see what he really looked like (perfectly normal as it happens).

I didn’t realise the gardens at Woodbine Cottage were so extensive as Harrison talks us through what Fallon’s going to experience. Cocktails under the pergola, nibbles in the games zone whilst playing Twister and Mega Jenga, followed by lounging and a massage by the pool, before dinner on the patio.”She’ll be stoked” apparently!

Meanwhile Fallon’s at the tea room clearing up after a day’s baking and all she’s worried about is whether Harrison’s remembered to make something for dinner. She’s quite liking the attention he’s getting through his radio appearances and that people are appreciating what he does, and feels guilty that she was so miserable about it in the beginning. She sounds quite loved-up and doesn’t even mind that he’s asked her to make her own way home.

We fast forward to Fallon enjoying a cocktail having previously been ‘frisked’ by Harrison dressed as an airline pilot. She’s lying on a sun lounger idly fiddling with her hair wondering where he’s got to and whether he’s changing into another costume, and realises she’s got icing in her hair (you sure it’s icing Fallon?). Harrison’s upstairs in the bathroom adding those truly authentic holiday touches like mini bottle of toiletries, adjusting the shower so it either runs scaldingly hot or ice cold, and hanging up the ‘help us save the planet’ sign (ok I made some of that up). 

Paradise is interrupted when Harrison’s brother Marcus calls for an urgent request for them to look after his 2 year old daughter, Daisy. Out goes an evening watching Reservoir Dogs (in which a policeman is tortured and gets his ear cut off with a razor - good choice Harrison that won’t give Fallon nightmares will it) and in comes Rupunzal on repeat. We’re not told the exact nature of the emergency, but Harrison says it sounded really bad (we hear later that Marcus’ wife is in hospital having gone into labour early).

Over at Bridge Farm Tony’s been ordered to clear out the attic. He comes over all nostalgic when he finds an old model of the Flying Scotsman that he and Pat had bought for John. As if Tony couldn’t get any more boring he starts reminiscing about model railways - life in miniature as he calls it - including little models of Friesian cows and presumably a 1/76 scale grumpy farmer being crushed by a Bull. Next thing you know he’s set it up in the sitting room and is trying to get it to work. The only thing he does seem certain about is that his grandson Henry’s not getting it! Apparently “it’s not just about little engines going round in circles”. Yes it is Tony, it really is.

Joy Horville however is obsessed with a Spaniard’s R’s. She loves the way Eduardo, her Spanish teacher, rolls his R’s during their webcam sessions. It’s a wonder she can stop talking long enough for him to do any teaching but it sounds like she probably just sits there open mouthed and drooling. She is feeling lonely though and is even ordering vegetables she doesn’t need just so she can grab a few words with Tony. 

Johnny makes the next delivery though and is forced to listen to Joy reading him is horoscope. We don’t hear what it says, but Johnny does have a bit of good news - he’s got over his hair complex and has decided against a transplant in favour of a buzz-cut - which means he can put the money he saved up to much better use, such as buying a car. And no Johnny, your idea of buying a load of scratch cards is not a good idea. But he doesn’t listen to me and goes ahead anyway blowing £50 in the process - turns out his horoscope said he was going to be lucky. Don’t worry Johnny, Tony’s going to give you cash for your birthday. Oh hang on, he’s just said you're getting that train set instead - the one that was your Dad’s. Never mind, if it’s in as good condition as Tony says it should fetch good money on eBay.

Johnny turns it down, which is just as well as the train set seems to be Tony’s Rosebud (see Citizen Kane - do I have to explain every film reference to you?). We leave Tony in his workshop with his beloved car, tractor and the sounds of little engines going round in circles…

Johnny’s about to phone Tony to say he doesn’t want the train set when he finds another scratch card in his pocket. He gets 3 cars and a flower and checks to see whether 3 cars win him anything. It doesn’t but that flower’s not a flower it’s a clover, and he remembers he had 4 clovers yesterday - if only he could remember what he did with it. Cue Johnny tipping out his wheelie bin all over the green to try and find it. Joy sees this as she was on the green helping to look after Daisy. Joy’s been angst-ridden about being accused of fly-tipping, so the sight of Johnny allowing his rubbish to blow all over the place is too much so she goes over to him and pointedly picks up and returns some.

Finally Joy sees her chance to make amends when Tim Oatey (the real fly tipper) calls on her again to see if she needs any more rubbish disposing. She decides to launch her own sting operation by inviting him back and letting Harrison know when he’ll be there. Harrison goes straight over, calling for backup on the way, and they end up arresting him for fly tipping, intimidation and false number plates. The week ends like an episode of Dixon of Dock Green with Harrison leaving the listeners with a few nuggets of philosophical police wisdom.

So now we look forward to next week, when the theme tune will change to something more calming - a rendition of Barwick Green performed on the recorder by a three year-old.