Susan Gets The Wrong End Of The Stick – Again

Gareth Pierce (Gavin Moss)

Kirsty goes to see Susan, to thank her for having Philip and Gavin on her radio show – it has already had some positive effects; Philip has been contacted by a firm of builders who want him to quote for a job, plus Jennifer has made them a steak pie as a ‘thank you’ to Gavin for driving Alice to hospital. Susan says she should be thanking Phil and Gavin for making the show so interesting. However, there is something that she would like to talk to Kirsty about “in the spirit of neighbourliness.” 

And that something is whether or not Gavin has got a gambling problem – Susan overheard Gavin on his phone saying something about ‘having trouble with the horses’. In Susan’s experience, this sort of thing needs to be nipped in the bud as soon as possible, as “we don’t want that nice young man going astray.” Kirsty thinks Susan has got the wrong end of the stick, as Gavin never goes near a bookie’s, but Susan points out that it’s so easy to bet online nowadays and, although Kirsty tells Susan not to mention it to anyone (as if!) the seed has been planted.

So it is that Kirsty has a word with Philip and we have a situation where she is talking about gambling, but he thinks that she has twigged his dodgy dealings with his three labourers (the ‘horses’ to which Gavin was referring) and we have the two of them talking at cross purposes about different things. Philip eventually cottons on and is relieved that his secret remains undiscovered, although it means that he has to go along with the Gambling Gavin scenario.

Kirsty says Gavin needs help and she wonders why he started gambling. Philip suggests that it could be that he needed the money to pay for the extravagant dream wedding that Gavin and Kelly (now his ex) had originally planned.

The atmosphere in the Moss/Miller household has subtly changed and Gavin picks up on the general mood of disapproval and asks what has he done now, and why is he in the doghouse? Kirsty replies that if he needs help, then she and Philip are there for him. Gavin is totally mystified and Phil tries to give him a hint by saying that they are talking about the gambling. “What gambling?” asks a still-bemused Gavin, but then he catches on, much to Philip’s relief, and he pretends that yes, he did have a problem, but it’s all in the past now. Kirsty is pleased that he has owned up and tells him again that they are there to support him and that the three of them will see this through together. The plot thickens and it looks like life for Gavin is going to get a bit more complicated.

Going back to the ‘horses’, Philip thinks that Blake is becoming a liability – since the explosion, he has been unable to do any heavy work, but he is costing them money in food and drink. Philip contacts a builder friend to see if he can sell Blake on to him as a painter/decorator, but when Gavin gets to hear of this, he is dismayed, saying that, if Blake goes, they won’t get much work from the two remaining horses.

Gavin is, in fact, becoming ever more-disillusioned with his life in Ambridge (or “the goldfish bowl” as he calls it) and wishes he could have a fresh start somewhere else, away from prying eyes. He runs into Alice, who is sitting on the bank of the Am, also contemplating her future. The pair talk and Alice mentions that she is considering a termination, to which Gavin says that, if she goes ahead with it, to make sure she takes somebody with her. He reveals that his ex had a termination last year, so he knows what he is talking about. He also recommends that Alice talks to Chris.

This she does, interrupting his boring account of Grandad Bert’s dinner at Susan’s (more of this later) with a bald “I’m pregnant.” Chris is overwhelmed and doesn’t seem to notice Alice when she says she doesn’t know what to do, telling her that she is going to be the perfect mum. “This is going to be so right for us – I know it.” He burbles happily, adding that they should crack open a bottle, but then he checks himself, saying “but we can’t now, can we? We have to start as we mean to go on.” This is not likely to improve Alice’s mood any.

But back to Susan’s special dinner for dad Bert. On her radio show, she is celebrating the ‘special bond’ between fathers and daughters and tells her listeners that she is having her dad over for a bonding meal. The result, as she tells Tracy later, was a disaster – he spurned the honey-glazed pork and dauphinoise potatoes and demanded chips. Halfway through the meal he turned on the TV and put his feet up on the coffee table. Furthermore, every time Susan went into the kitchen, he would tap his fork on his plate to summon her back “like a waitress” Susan tells her sister, indignantly. His behaviour was extremely weird and it cannot just be about his shoplifting. “We need to have a chat about it” Susan tells Tracy. 

Personally, I reckon that Tracy got at Bert and told him to behave badly, so that Susan appreciates just what hard work her father is and what Tracy has to put up with every day. As for the ‘special bond’ between father and daughter, Susan’s message to Tracy ends with the observation that Neil is driving Bert back home “and it couldn’t have come quickly enough.”

And now it’s time for last week’s moment of pretentiousness. I say ‘moment’ but it actually lasts a lot longer than that and seems destined to go on for another week at least. Regular Archers listeners will have instantly realised that, if we are talking pretentiousness, then that must mean the Snells – and Lynda in particular. They have resolved to enter their garden in the upcoming virtual Flower and Produce Show, but Lynda is having doubts – have they been bold enough? Do they have a coherent vision? There’s less than a week before the show. “If we are going to win, we must subvert the form” Lynda tells her husband. 

Yes, I didn’t have an idea what she was talking about either, but it seemed to involve trellis. Apparently, there’s lots of it in the shed and it won’t take Robert long to get it out and clean it up, will it? He protests that he already has a lot to do and he needs to keep the slugs away from his begonias. The discussion gets a bit heated and the pair cannot agree on what form the garden should take, subverted or otherwise.

Eventually it dawns on them that their ideas are fundamentally different and the solution is to divide the garden in half and both enter their own. As Lynda points out, this will give them two chances to win with two distinctive styles.

Ah, if only it were that easy! The first point of contention is how to divide up the garden. Lynda has drawn up a map, but Robert isn’t happy, as he has been allocated the part that is in the shade. He re-draws the dividing line, which prompts a gasp from Lynda. “You’ve defaced my map” she tells her husband. 

Things go downhill from here on – Robert tells Lynda that her plans are unworkable; flowers out of season and suchlike. “It’s not a garden – it’s a stage set” he says, dismissively. Then, when Lynda argues that it is “a concept”, he comes back with “all show and no substance.” Lynda is worried about ‘weedcreep’ as she maintains that Robert never weeds properly and her plot could be “overrun with weeds.” “What, in a week?” he replies, incredulously. I tell you what – I reckon the Snells’ gardens will cause more trouble than the Garden of Eden.

 

Isn’t It A Bit Early To Wet The Baby’s Head?

Martyn Read (Bert Horrobin)

Let’s kick off with Bert Horrobin for a change – let’s face it, the poor sod hasn’t got much going for him, what with being a Horrobin and all. Once a Horrobin, always a – well, ‘thief’ sums it up pretty well, I suppose. And not only a thief, but someone who takes advantage of his fellow villagers, as Susan reveals to Emma; her and Tracy’s cunning plan to clandestinely film the phantom shoplifter has revealed Bert to be the one who is nicking custard creams and light bulbs (an odd combination, to be sure).

Susan asks Emma if she would accompany her to confront Bert, which she does. We are not privy to the conversation, but we can gather that it didn’t go well, when Emma says “he played you like a violin.” It seems that Emma was all for stringing up her grandfather, or tarring and feathering him at the very least, but Bert spun Susan a real sob story. “You should have given him a real rollicking” Emma says, but Susan is convinced that Bert is a sad, lonely old man under stress and the thefts were “a cry for help.”

Help for what, for heaven’s sake? Susan is convinced that her new-found stardom on Radio Borsetshire has made Bert think that he isn’t good enough for her, hence the descent into crime – Bert was on the verge of tears. Emma says that was just because he was scared that Susan would call in the police and Susan is mega-gullible. Nevertheless, Susan accepts that she hasn’t been pulling her weight as far as looking after Bert is concerned and, from now on, she resolves to have her dad over to Ambridge View for lunch and some quality time. “Good luck with that” is Emma’s comment.

Susan’s estimation of her own importance is way out of touch with reality; when Emma berates her mother for giving Jolene and Kenton a hard time on the radio regarding the attack on Sgt Burns by Prospero the peacock, Susan replies loftily “I have a duty to my listeners.” What, all three of them? Emma is apprehensive, as she needs the bar work at The Bull and she is worried that Kenton and Jolene might reduce her shifts, especially if the negative publicity over the radio interview results in fewer customers patronising the pub. “It’s the adrenaline when you are broadcasting” Susan explains, but when Emma voices her worries, Susan promises to be more careful about what she says in the future. The words ’shutting’, ‘stable door’, ‘after’, ‘horse’ and ‘bolted’ spring, unbidden, to mind, while the rest of us sit back and wait for the next faux pas, confident that it won’t be long in coming. And we are right, as later Susan is interviewing Philip and Gavin, as Gavin has been a bit of a hero (more details later) and bangs on about the Grey Gables explosion.

Phil is worried that Gavin “is getting too pally with the horses” (that’s what being thrown together throughout lockdown does for you) and reminds his son that he is due to take Blake (one of the horses) for his physiotherapy this afternoon. Philip warns him to be careful, as Blake is not supposed to be working. Not only that, but the people of Ambridge believe that Blake is convalescing at his parents’ home in Norfolk, so Blake must not be seen, which is the reason that his physio appointment is somewhere 20-odd miles from Ambridge. In a phrase with which I am sure Philip would strongly disagree, Gavin tells him “Dad, I know what I’m doing.” Yeah, right.

Later in the day, Philip is queueing outside the village shop (let’s hope he’s not looking for custard creams) and runs into Chris, who is buying wine for Alice – they are going to have a film night. There is talk about Chris and Alice’s wedding in Vegas ten years ago and Chris says he still cannot understand “what an intelligent, classy girl like Alice saw in a bit of rough like me.” That’s what your mother-in-law thought at the time, Chris. “Tell me about it!” says Philip, but we assume that he is referring to the similarity of the situation between himself and Kirsty, rather than just agreeing that Chris is a bit of rough.

Meanwhile, the classy and intelligent Alice is by the side of the Am, waiting for Fallon to join her for a drink, unaware that Fallon has phoned and texted to say that she can’t make it. Alice leaves a message on Fallon’s phone, saying that, if Fallon isn’t there in five minutes, then Alice will finish off the Prosecco by herself – it’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it and, let’s be honest, there’s nobody better qualified than Alice (with the possible exception of her auntie Lilian).

As Alice gets progressively drunker, she leaves an abusive and spiteful message on Emma’s phone. She also doesn’t go home, but goes out running.  Her absence worries Chris, who keeps trying to contact his wife, but gets no answer. Eventually, Chris contacts Harrison, who launches a missing persons search.

By this time it is 9pm and Gavin is on his way home, with Blake in the back of the van. Gavin rings his dad to say that he’s on his way home. But wait – what’s that on the verge? It’s a woman dressed in running gear – is she dead, injured or just passed out? Philip tells Gavin to leave her where she is and get Blake home. He adds that Gavin should not call an ambulance – they cannot risk Blake being questioned by the authorities. Gavin recognises Alice, but Phil tells him to leave her there and get home.

Fortunately for Alice, Gavin ignores his father and takes Alice to hospital (Blake is still in the back of the van), where Alice is kept in, suffering, as she tells Chris the following day, from dehydration. Gavin apologises to Phil for disobeying his order and is astonished when Philip replies that Gavin did the right thing and that he (Philip) should be the one to apologise, as he made the wrong call.

Anyway, Chris takes Alice home and Susan interviews the Mosses on her radio show, reading out comments from listeners. These are mostly complimentary, but then Susan reads out the one which blames the Mosses for the Grey Gables explosion.

Later on, Susan goes to see Emma to try and persuade her to go with her to see Alice and Chris – whatever the tiff (Susan’s word) is between Emma and her brother, surely it can be put behind them. Emma insists that Susan listens to Alice’s abusive message on her phone, but only half of it was recorded, as Alice’s battery ran out. Emma points out that Alice’s voice is slurred and that she is an alcoholic. Susan says “No way – you only have to look at her”. Presumably Alice has ‘I’m not really a lush – honest’ tattooed on her forehead. Susan accuses her daughter of “hearing only what you want to hear”, to which Emma replies that Susan can tell Chris and Alice what she likes – “I’m done.”

The following day, Gavin goes to see Alice, who is relaxing in her front garden. She apologises for not thanking him properly but she cannot remember much about it and gives him the story about being dehydrated. Gavin – not unkindly – gently tells her that he smelled her breath when he picked her up and he knows she had been drinking; her problem wasn’t having too little to drink, but just the opposite. Worried, Alice asks if he has told Chris? No, replies Gavin, adding that it’s none of his (Gavin’s) business and Alice can rely on him not to go shooting his mouth off.

The pair are getting quite matey and the conversation turns to how difficult it is to work with their respective fathers. Gavin says that it’s difficult to walk away when family is involved and he bemoans the explosion at Grey Gables, saying that if he had been paying attention it would never have happened – as it is he is now paying for one stupid mistake that will never happen again. Alice says that’s why she doesn’t want Chris to know the truth about the other night – she hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol since and she swears it will never happen again. Gavin says not to worry – he can be relied upon to keep his mouth shut.

Suddenly, Alice bursts into tears, telling Gavin that she must be more shaken up than she thought. He is worried about leaving her alone – should he call Chris or someone else? He also suggests a cup of tea or coffee. “Normally, I’d suggest something stronger, but I guess that’s not appropriate” he says. And it is now that Alice drops her bombshell, as she says that she’d really love a drink “but I can’t – in case it hurts the baby.”

I put it to you that, unless the baby was conceived last night, it has had plenty of time to become used to alcohol – lots of it – and will probably be born with a wine glass in hand. I’m surprised that Alice hasn’t heard the sound of drunken singing from the area of her womb before now.

I know that a pregnancy is usually a joyous event, and I am sure that the news will be happily received by those closest involved, but just think what’s in store for the rest of us over the next few months – imagine how Susan will react when she finds out – can’t you foresee her radio programme being full of the latest news about Alice’s pregnancy? And as for how Jennifer will behave doesn’t bear thinking about – I honestly think that I might be unable to cope with it.

 

Kenton Comes Out As a Pavophile

Richard Attlee (Kenton Archer)

Before you all march on The Bull with flaming torches and pitchforks, ready to string up Kenton, I should point out that ‘pavophile’ is a word I coined for a lover of peacocks (if there is another, proper word for it, feel free to write in, but neither the Internet, nor Collins English Dictionary, contains the word in relation to peacocks or peafowl). So, we have Kenton Archer as a fan (no pun intended) of the bird into which the goddess Juno turned the 100-eyed giant Argus when he failed to properly guard the heifer Io from Zeus’s amatory advances.

‘How come?’ I hear you scream, as you recall that Kenton was the person who ran over and killed The Bull’s resident peacock, Errol, not so long ago – how loving is that? Quite correct, but Errol was replaced by a spare fowl from one born at Lower Loxley; Prospero to give him his name. I’m sorry to digress so early, but it’s interesting (to me at least) to note the difference in the names – Errol (or it could be Erroll (I couldn’t be bothered to check back) rings bells for Flynn, the actor, or Brown, of Hot Chocolate fame, while Prospero was the magician and principal character in Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Perhaps this illustrates the difference between being brought up in a pub garden and a Stately Home.

I must digress again – if Elizabeth’s peafowl are named after characters in The Tempest, then there are some attractive names, such as Miranda, or Ariel, but we can only assume that the really ugly chick of the clutch had the misfortune to be christened Caliban. 

A mere 276 words after starting, we cut to the chase – an appropriate turn of phrase, as Prospero has legged it and is nowhere to be seen. It is two days later that Kenton and Jolene are watching (under strict orders) the streaming of the virtual tour of Harrison and Fallon’s garden, as a trial for the Flower & Produce gardens in Ambridge. This does not go well, as Harrison (who has borrowed some of Prospero’s cast-off feathers as garden decoration) comes into contact with the bird, who perceives the feathers as indicating the presence of a rival male and reacts as any red-blooded peacock would (nobody said they were clever). 

Sgt Burns trips over a piece of garden furniture and, later on, is mortified when the clip is all over Social Media, and, on Jolene’s advice, Kenton hot-foots it round to Harrison and Fallon’s place to recapture the bird, cursing the while. However, don’t be puzzled, as evidence of the depth of Kenton’s real fondness for the avian escapee will be revealed in full in the following few paragraphs. Don’t worry – no peacocks were harmed in the rest of this week’s blog.

Susan asks Jolene if she, as a local celebrity, would like to be interviewed on her radio show. Kenton gets the hump over this – surely, as the person who MCs all the local events, he should be on the radio as well? In the end, the pair agree to do it as a joint gig – they can get some publicity for The Bull and plug their latest idea to boost their home delivery business; a character called ‘The Naughty Milkman’, based loosely (very loosely) on the Cadbury Milk Tray man.

Jolene tries to get a plug in early in the interview, but is swept aside by Susan, who is only interested in Prospero’s unscheduled appearance in Harrison’s garden. Kenton plays down the incident, saying that Prospero was being mischievous, but he is interrupted by Susan saying “You say mischievous, I say dangerous” and she bangs on about Sgt Burns’s ‘ordeal’ and wondering whether The Bull’s customers could really feel safe with a mentally-deranged peacock stalking the pub garden. Kenton leaps to Prospero’s defence, saying that nobody would be in any danger from the bird. He tells Susan that she is wrong, but she promptly cuts him off. She does briefly mention the planned milkman campaign, but gets the name wrong, referring to it as ‘The Wicked Milkman’.

Back at The Bull, Kenton and Jolene are stunned (and more than a little pissed off) by Susan’s attitude, although Jolene was touched by the way Kenton defended Prospero. You have to wonder why Radio Borsetshire keeps Susan on – she gets her facts wrong, has an annoying voice and seems to think that she’s the county’s answer to David Frost. You also have to wonder if she has any friends left in the county, the way she stitches them up on air.

But Susan has her own problems – to wit, the mystery of the missing custard creams (of which, more later). But first, there is another mystery to clear up, as sister Tracy tells her about the solicitor’s letter sent to Philip, threatening legal action over the explosion at Grey Gables. Who can the sender be? The two sisters decide that it must be someone either very clever, or very stupid, as the law firm‘s name on the letterhead doesn’t seem to exist. It was probably the phrase ‘very stupid’ that gave Tracy inspiration, as she leaves a message for Susan, saying that she knows who it is. The perpetrator, says Tracy, is her son Brad and, when she accuses him, he goes to pieces. In case you think this is a masterpiece of deduction, the name of the firm comes from a mixture of Brad’s best friend and a teacher, and the phone number on the letterhead is that of Brad’s grandfather’s landline. Zut alors, inspector – they always make one mistake, don’t they?

Susan tells Tracy that she should really go to see Philip or Gavin and apologise, “or grovel is probably more like it.” During a stock take at the Community Shop, Susan notices that they are low on custard creams, plus all the packet soups are gone. There appears to be a shoplifter on the loose! Tracy is sceptical – who would be mean enough to steal from a Community Shop? This is interesting, as I’m sure the older of us can recall when Clive Horrobin (Tracy’s brother, no less) held up the village shop with a shotgun, briefly holding Jack Woolley (and others) hostage. Admittedly, it wasn’t a Community Shop at the time, but that’s not really an excuse, even for a Horrobin.

Only one thing to do – trawl through the CCTV footage. Sadly, this is a rubbish idea, as the camera is so positioned that it doesn’t cover half the shop, although it did pick up Jazzer ogling Tracy’s bum over the top of the greetings cards; something which amused her greatly. The women both have suspects in mind; Tracy thinks it’s Joy Horville, or possibly Shula (this training for the priesthood could be a fantastic bluff), while Susan’s money is on Gavin Moss. The reason? She tried to engage him in conversation, but after two or three questions, he fled from the shop without buying anything. I should think that happens a lot when Susan is behind the counter, and it proves nothing.

Tracy comes up with an idea – when she was admonishing Brad, she confiscated his phone, and still has it. It can be used as a spy camera, so why don’t they leave it hidden in the shop, covering the CCTV camera’s blind spot? Super wheeze – I just fervently hope that, when they go to retrieve it, it has been nicked.

Of course, the reason Susan isn’t in a good mood is that she doesn’t know the reason for the rift between her two children and nobody is saying anything about it. For somebody who loves gossip and busybodying (to coin a verb) as much as Susan, this must be sheer purgatory. She knows that the gulf between them is wide and deep – at the weekend, she and Neil held a BBQ and both her children wanted to know if the other was going, and when Emma and Ed arrived, Chris and Alice got up and left without a word – but no-one will tell her what happened, and it’s driving her demented.

Let us turn now to the ongoing saga of Lynda and Robert. Robert rings up his daughter Leonie and leaves a message asking if he could come to stay for a few days? The atmosphere at home is unbearable and it is patently obvious that Lynda cannot bear to be in the same room as her husband, so some time apart might do them both good, as he can’t bear the atmosphere as it is at the moment.

Of course, Robert is not a cad, and he rings Lilian to explain that he’s going away and would she mind keeping an eye on Lynda? Seeing as how Lilian and Lynda fell out big time last week, when Lynda discovered that Robert had divulged information about their – shall we say – intimate moments, you wonder whether Robert has thought this through, as if Lynda saw Lilian, she’d probably reach for the carving knife. Lilian teases the story out of Robert, about how Lynda found the Viagra and convinced herself that her appearance is so horrific that this is the only way Robert can raise a smile, so to speak.

Lilian is appalled and lays into Robert, saying that he’s giving up on 40-odd years of marriage; is that what he wants? Of course it isn’t. “Then man up” Lilian orders – where is his backbone? He can’t desert Lynda when she needs him most. “She doesn’t want me” Robert replies and puts the phone down.

Despite what we said in the paragraph before last, Lilian does go to see Lynda and tells her some home truths; that she is a hypocrite for playing the victim and doesn’t she realise that she is on the verge of losing her husband? Lynda is distraught and, when Lilian tells her that Robert is going to stay with Leonie and grandson Muppet, Lynda lets out a wail of anguish – of course she doesn’t want Robert to leave. As she leaves, Lilian reminds Lynda that not so long ago she was prepared to chain herself to the new ‘B at Ambridge’ sign in protest – if she was prepared to fight over a silly pub sign, surely she’s prepared to fight for her marriage?

Let’s gloss over the - at first, tentative – scenes of reconciliation between the Snells. Leonie invited them both to stay, but Lynda says that, while she’s dying to see Muppet again, she’d rather they came to Ambridge Hall – and only for the day, which shows signs of intelligence, as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, she and Robert are reunited in harmony and resolve to stop tiptoeing round each other, agreeing that their relationship is back on the road and, as Robert puts it; “We’re heading in the right direction.” And I, for one, say ‘Thank God for that - I don’t think I could have stood it for much longer!’

 

Sibling Rivalry

Susie Riddell (Tracy Horrobin)

You have to hand it to Tracy – she might not have been first in the queue when the brains were being handed out, but she has a kind of low cunning and she certainly has an eye for the main chance, as was demonstrated last week. She also has quite a good sense of humour.

This last characteristic is just as well, as she and her two children are living in Bert Horrobin’s (Tracy’s dad’s) house, along with her idiot brother, Gary. Bert has a number of disadvantages – he’s deaf, so the TV is wound up to level 11; he’s lazy, so expects to be waited on hand and foot; plus, of course, he is a Horrobin (‘nuff said, I think). Tracy is cooking all the meals (when I say ‘cooking’ I suspect we are talking packets, e-numbers and a very active microwave. I will let you into an irrelevant secret here – Neil regards the microwave as the invention of Satan and won’t have one in his kitchen, so if you are invited round for a jacket potato, be prepared to wait a while). [At least it will be a proper one! - Neil]

But back to the Archers. Given all this workload, Tracy is being run ragged and, when she is trying to sort out the disaster area that is her kitchen after breakfast, the last thing she needs is a phone call. Guess what happens? I can’t get much past you, can I? The phone rings and it’s sister Susan, who is stressing about a comment someone made about her Radio Borsetshire show, complaining about Susan’s squeaky voice.

“My voice isn’t squeaky” Susan says indignantly, giving Tracy the ideal opportunity to say ‘sorry, I didn’t catch that – there’s an annoying squeak on this line’, but she didn’t. Instead, Tracy asks if Susan would like to help look after their dad a bit more than she does at the moment (ie, more than sod-all) – for example, would she have him visit for a week or two; after all, there are just Neil and Susan in a four-bedroomed house and Tracy really needs a break. Susan suggests that Tracy gets idiot Gary to lend more of a hand, but Tracy scotches this idea, pointing out that Gary couldn’t find his own bum, using both hands and a road map.

Susan reminds Tracy that she is living in her dad’s house and Tracy replies “Genius! Me and the kids will come and spend a couple of weeks at yours” and she rings off before Susan can reply. Later that day, Tracy turns up at Susan’s, lugging a big suitcase (“just a few things I’ve brought to keep the kids amused”), telling her sister once more that Susan and Neil’s house will be ideal for her and the children. Tracy asks if Susan would like to see what she’s brought and opens up the case. It’s empty, and Tracy dissolves into fits of laughter – “Your face!” she gasps. I didn’t think you had the time for this sort of jolly jape, Tracy.

Fast forward to Thursday, and Susan is hosting her radio show, offering her services today as an Agony Aunt and inviting listeners to call in with their problems. Just what qualifications Susan has to be an Agony Aunt are not specified, but I suppose you could argue that listening to her (squeaky) voice is agony and that her daughter has offspring, so that ticks the ‘aunt’ box. 

This feature has a trail, during which we can distinctly hear a jingle for ‘BBC Radio Borsetshire’ and a telephone number to ring. This number is 01632 960000, but I urge you not to bother to dial it, as all you get is the BT ‘you’re having a laugh, aren’t you?’ message. Oh yes, I tried it – really, the things I do for you. So it is strange that Susan gets a call from a woman called Trudy, whose voice bears an uncanny resemblance to our Tracy. Tracy’s (sorry, Trudy’s) – and Susan made the same mistake when talking to her listener - question is (and I am paraphrasing here) ‘How can I get my bone-idle sister to pull her weight when it comes to looking after our dad, who should really be put down?’ Trudy then goes into quite unnecessary detail about how unpleasant it is to have to wash Bert’s underpants.

Susan’s reply is that there are two sides to every story, but Trudy interrupts and says they should put it to the listeners – what do they think? Trudy insists that Susan reads out some of the Tweets she has received. These vary from (and I am paraphrasing again here), ‘completely selfish; she should be pleased to look after her old dad’ – obviously from someone who has never met Bert – to ‘string ‘er up’ (as above, with knobs on).

I would love to say that Susan rang Tracy back and said ‘I realise I am not pulling my weight and I would be delighted to have Bert here for a few weeks to give you some respite’ but you, dear listener, know Susan better than that, plus Neil (and that’s ‘Carter’, rather than the detester of Microwaves referred to earlier) would have his shotgun loaded and with the safety catch off, ready for the second that Bert entered his land.

However, in paragraph one, we said that Tracy has an eye for the main chance, and this was demonstrated on Wednesday, when Philip Moss opened a letter, which turned out to be from a firm of lawyers, saying, in effect, ‘we are going to sue the goolies off you’ for the explosion in the Grey Gables kitchen. Was it from Lynda Snell, who was seriously injured? No. Was it from Oliver Sterling (who, let’s face it had the most to lose, financially, at least)? No, it was on behalf of Tracy, and claimed “devastating psychological distress” – three words that I would wager a lot of money on that Tracy could neither pronounce, nor spell without outside help. I suspect that Tracy was contacted by a ‘have you been injured at work; no win, no fee?’ organisation and thought ‘why not?’

To say that this came as a bit of an (unpleasant) surprise to Phil is a classic understatement, as a) Tracy was not hurt in the slightest and b) anything that could cause her “devastating psychological distress” would have to be in the order of a house brick on the head, at the minimum.

In the last couple of paragraphs, we have, unfortunately, touched upon the fact that Phil Moss is back working. Actually, that is not fair – I have no problem with Phil, apart from the fact that he sired Gavin. One plus-point of the lockdown was that Gavin had been living in the flat with co-workers Blake, Kenzie and Jordan – or, as Gavin refers to them in his caring, employee-friendly way, “the horses”. But now, Gavin has moved back in with his dad and Kirsty, and we can only assume that she is in tears – and not of gratitude, I suspect. 

There is a song recorded by The Hollies, which entered the charts in September 1967, called King Midas in Reverse (it got to number 18) and is about a person who – whatever he touches – it goes nads up. And that is Gavin in a nutshell – he was just telling his dad how he was going to work all the hours God sends to build up the business to the same level – no, better – than it was before the Grey Gables disaster, when Philip opened the letter threatening them with legal action.

Enough of the Welsh connection – this week’s title is ‘Sibling Rivalry’ and, after Susan and Tracy, we are looking at Emma and Christopher. Setting the scene briefly, Ed was miffed at being sacked by Brian for a mistake of Alice’s and harsh things were said on both sides. It was sorted out and Ed was reinstated. Feeling bad, he went to see Alice and swiftly realised that she was as the newt in mid-afternoon. This left him in a quandary – should he keep quiet, tell Chris or hold a watching brief on Alice? 

He decides on the last option and goes to see Alice again, telling her that they are mates and he is always there for her if he’s needed. Alice takes this the wrong way and thinks that Ed has a crush on her. She is a one-man woman and rehearses what she can say to Ed when they next meet. She tells Ed that he’s just a mate and Chris is her only love and, when Ed tries to explain that she has got the wrong end of the stick, she thinks that he was ‘devastated’ at being rejected and has gone off in a huff, carrying a torch for her, if that isn’t mixing too many metaphors. 

Whichever, there is a major misunderstanding by both parties and the potential for future disaster is enormous – and growing. Ed goes back to Emma and eventually the story comes out; Emma is incensed that Alice should think that Ed fancied her, and Ed spills the beans that Alice was totally trolleyed and that this was not a one-off. Emma (Chris’s sister, remember) thinks that Chris has a right to know that his wife is a lush and goes to confront her brother, and Alice – it is interesting that Ed isn’t there to back up his wife.

The two women are talking at cross purposes – Alice thinks Em is there to complain because Ed fancies her, and Em says, no; it’s because Alice is a drunk, and she tells the pair how Alice was definitely the worse for wear when Ed talked to her in the afternoon. Alice denies this and, in a phrase which he repeats often, Chris says to Alice: “You didn’t tell me about this.” Chris also says that Emma is barking up the wrong tree, as it was him that broke the couple’s no-weekday-drinking pact. Emma (in for a penny, in for a pound) says that so did Alice, except she never bothered to mention it.

“Are you calling my wife a liar?” asks lightning-quick-on-the-uptake Chris. “Yeah – a liar and a drunk” his sister replies – I’m surprised she didn’t spell it out in upper case letters. Chris thinks that his sister should leave, but she says it’s obvious what’s going on; Alice is an alcoholic. I should point out that, at various points in these exchanges, we can hear Alice’s voice saying “excuse me, I am still here, you know.” The conversation becomes ever-more acerbic, with Chris accusing his sister of being jealous of their lifestyle and saying “If you can’t be civil to my wife, maybe we should keep our lifestyles completely separate.” “Is that what you want?” Emma asks and Chris replies “No, but I think it might be for the best.” “Absolutely fine,” Emma answers, “but don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.” Chris assures her that this won’t happen, but Emma says “Yes it will; I promise you.” Now, whether this means that Emma will make sure that it all goes wrong, or whether she’s just convinced that it will all end in tears, we don’t know, but look on the bright side - that’s at least two fewer Christmas presents that both couples will have to buy.

Normal Hostilities Are Resumed

Sunny Ormonde (Lilian Bellamy)

Lilian and Lynda have been getting a bit pally lately. Lynda is contemplating buying a wig, but is unsure how she will look – there’s no point asking Robert, as he will just say what he thinks his wife wants to hear, rather than what he really thinks; who can Lynda turn to for the honest, unvarnished truth? Step forward Lilian Bellamy – if you need somebody to point out your shortcomings, then Lilian is the gal for you; nobody could ever accuse Lil of calling a spade a manually-operated, earth-inverting, horticultural implement and she tells it like it is, whether you like it or not.

First things first; when the two women are having a Zoom meeting and Lynda is showing off a selection of syrups, Lilian persuades her to open a bottle of wine and, to demonstrate feminine solidarity, Lilian joins her in a G&T. Lynda confesses to being worried that Robert doesn’t find her attractive any longer; she doesn’t look the same. Lilian retorts that she hardly notices Lynda’s scars any longer, but Lynda tells her about the debacle when she attempted a romantic seduction, which ended with Robert making her a cup of cocoa.

The pair eventually settle on a suitable wig, but Lynda is still plagued by doubt – will Robert like it, or even notice? If you wanted him to notice, Lynda, I’d have gone with a bubblegum-pink wig, rather than the short, chestnut model. All this introspection prompts Lilian to examine her own appearance and she concludes that, all in all, she’s not doing too badly, looks-wise, although we should perhaps consider that maybe her view is being coloured by the Gin Goggles. Whatever, Lilian says that she is luckier than Lynda, and hopes “that Lynda blows Robert’s socks off with the new wig.” I think that Lynda had set her sights a bit higher than hosiery removal, Lilian.

As it turns out, Robert doesn’t comment on the new hairpiece. While out shopping, he does wonder if he offended Lynda by not mentioning it, but he says to himself that she doesn’t need it and he loves her as she is – he just needs to be able to read the signs that she’s giving out. I don’t know about offended, but she’s certainly bloody angry, and took her anger out on poor Chris Carter, who turned up with the wrought iron hanging basket that Robert had commissioned as a surprise. Having told him to dump it on the lawn and go, she starts to calm down and admits that it’s quite attractive. “But it doesn’t exactly scream passion,” she says, adding: “I doubt Chris would give one to Alice.” Assuming we are still talking about hanging baskets, I’d agree with that last statement, Lynda.

Lynda rang Chris to apologise for her bad temper, then rang Lilian to tell her about Robert’s total lack of reaction. Lilian decides to take matters in hand and gives Robert a call (he’s still out shopping). She begins by asking how is Lynda and suggests that Robert should be more observant and more imaginative. Robert says that he did notice the new wig, but he didn’t know how his wife wanted him to react, so he deemed it wiser to say nothing. It soon becomes obvious that Lilian knows all about last week’s seduction fiasco and he is worried. “What if I hurt her – I don’t want to disturb anything” he says.

Lilian, in her caring way, asks him whether he’s a man or a mouse and, when he replies “definitely the former”, she says “good, because that’s what Lynda needs just now.” Robert still has doubts – “But what if I can’t manage it?” he asks. No problem; Lilian tells him to swing past her place on his way home, as she’s “got something that will take care of everything.”

The next time we hear from Lynda, she is furious, as she caught him taking a pill (presumably Viagra or similar) and immediately went off at the deep end, saying that she felt “humiliated” that her husband had to resort to chemical stimulants. Robert has slunk off to the shepherd’s hut and Lynda says that he can stay there. Robert is not the only one with whom Lynda is upset, as she accuses Lilian of betraying things that Lynda told her in strictest confidence. “How dare she! I don’t want anything to do with that woman – not any more! And as for Robert – forget how he feels about me; I’m not sure that I’ll ever feel the same about him again!”

In the past, Lynda and Lilian have had more than their fair share of quarrels and clashes, but since Lynda’s accident, the two were moving closer towards friendly relations. However, as the title of this week's blog demonstrates, this is no longer the case and – on Lynda’s part at least – the pair are back at daggers drawn. What I find interesting is why Lilian had such a ready supply of Viagra – is Justin in need of pepping up in bed, or does Lilian keeps some handy, just in case? I think we should be told.

While we are talking about people who don’t really like each other much, the week began with Ed being sacked by Brian because he unloaded a trailer of wheat into a bay that contained malting barley, thus making the latter unsaleable at a premium price. As Ed has only just been taken back on at Home Farm, it might be easier if they fitted a revolving door on the barn. What is making Ed really angry is that it was Alice who told him where to tip the wheat, so it’s her fault. However, she hasn’t got round to telling her father this and Brian gave Ed the mother of all dressing downs before sacking him.

Ed confronts Alice, who says that she will confess to Brian, but the time’s not right at the moment. Ed is getting ratty and says that, if Alice doesn’t tell Brian, then Ed will. Things are made worse because, although Ed has been sacked, there is no-one else to drive the trailer, so he is working under Brian’s baleful glare as he watches him like a hawk. Ed points out that Alice is asking Ed to sacrifice his professional reputation in order to save hers. 

Eventually, Alice does confess to Brian and, while he gave her a good talking to, it was as nothing compared to things he said to Ed when the incident occurred. To be fair to Brian, when he learns the truth, he apologises to Ed, blaming his bad temper on the stress of having to work with Adam out of action after his accident. Brian even offers Ed a bonus and Ed feels a twinge of guilt, as he is already being paid double time by Alice. Then he remembers that he is a Grundy after all, and the moment swiftly passes.

When he has been exonerated, Ed reflects on some of the things he said to Alice, notably about how the Aldridges pick you up when they need you and then drop you when they don’t. Perhaps he went a bit over the top, and he goes to see Alice and make peace. Alice, however, isn’t in the mood for reconciliation and she tells Ed that she clearly remembers every word he said and she won’t forget in a hurry. In fact, Alice is just the other side of unpleasant and tells Ed that he and Emma deserve each other and get back to their poky caravan. 

Ed goes, before he says something even worse. Although he describes Alice as ‘his mate’, relations between Alice and her sister-in-law Emma have never been what you might describe as ‘cordial’ – in fact, the two women cannot really stand each other. As Ed drives away, he reflects on the conversation with Alice and he realises that she was, not to put too fine a point on it, drunk – and this was in the office at 4.30pm (best not to let Lilian know, or she would describe her niece as a woos and a lightweight for waiting till 4.30).

This leaves Ed in a dilemma - what should he do? He cannot talk to Alice about it and he cannot mention it to Chris or anyone else in the family. “If Susan knew, it would be all round the village in 20 minutes” Ed says to himself. Rubbish! It would be all over Borsetshire in that time – less if Susan mentioned it in her radio show (something that I am delighted to say is not getting much air time at the moment). 

Ed says that the situation reminds him of when he went off the rails some time back and he knows all the tricks to use when you are trying to hide something. Perhaps his wisest course is to keep an eye on Alice from afar. “Maybe I can be a bit of a guardian angel to Alice” he says, adding: “It looks like she might need one.” That’s the idea Ed – masterful inactivity.

Continuing the theme of Alice and her love for the barmaid’s apron, she is exercised by the fact that Chris and Ed had a beer when Chris and Alice had made a pact not to drink during weekday evenings. Alice wormed the truth out of Emma – not that it took much worming; Emma couldn’t wait to tell her (see earlier comments about how they cannot stand each other) – and Alice then laid a guilt trip on her husband for breaking their pact and betraying her trust. Chris apologises abjectly, even though he only had half a can of lager (Alice probably spills more than that before breakfast).

It’s hard to believe, but Alice and Chris will be celebrating their 10^th wedding anniversary in June, yet sometimes you wonder if they really know each other very well. Take, for example, their thoughts after this incident; Alice thinks that everything’s going wrong (mistakes at work and suchlike) and that she and Chris are drifting apart, while he thinks that it all went well and they didn’t argue. “Hopefully we’re back on track” he says and resolves to do something nice for his wife – I expect she would really appreciate a case of vodka, or some really nice wine – a couple of cases should see her through the weekend.

There is no doubt that Alice has a problem, but such is her capacity for self-delusion that she is never likely to admit, or even to realise, it. As an example, when she was accusing Chris of breaking their pact (you will be delighted to know – or rather Alice will be delighted – that Chris has now decided to end the ban on midweek drinking) she said, in all seriousness, that the only reason she used to drink in the shed was so that Chris wouldn’t be tempted to have a drink. Personally, I reckon the chances of there being anything left for him to drink were zero.