I know you will find this hard to believe, but Monday’s episode begins with a moan from Tony, when he unexpectedly locates a piece of missing Lego on the stairs. That’ll teach you not to wear slippers Tony. As he witters on about it, daughter Helen tells him that he might not have to put up with it for much longer, and goes on to tell him that she is thinking about possibly buying Kirsty and Philip’s house.
Tony thinks this is a sound idea, but has Helen told Pat? Pat just loves having her grandchildren around, he tells her. And Pat is not alone, as later on Tony is talking to Joy Horville and tells her about Helen’s plans. Joy is delighted and immediately volunteers her services as a babysitter. It is all too much for Tony, who breaks down and tells Joy that he cannot imagine life without Helen and the two boys. He thanks her for being so understanding when she comforts him.
Later on that day, Helen tells her dad that she has informed Pat of her possibly moving out and Tony replies that he and Pat will help Helen out with the deposit, as they still have some money left from the sale of the land to Justin Elliott and Borsetshire Land. Helen is touched by the offer and says that she is looking forward to leading an independent life once again. She then blows it completely by telling Tony that things have got a bit behind at the Dairy and could he help out by picking up the boys? Oh yes – could he give them something for their tea as well? What was that about an independent life?
I find it strange that, when anyone moves in Ambridge, there is an outpouring of grief and/or anxiety. I could understand it if Helen and boys were upping sticks and setting off for Tristan da Cuhna or somewhere equally remote, but she’s not moving out of Ambridge. In fact, as the land on which the Beechwood Estate was built was sold off by Tony and Pat to Justin Elliott, you could argue that, technically, Helen won’t even be leaving Bridge Farm.
David tells sister Shula about how Elizabeth is dating Vince Casey and just what a bad idea he thinks it is. To David’s horror and disgust, Shula cannot see what David’s problem is, and she thinks that Elizabeth’s suggestion that David should get in touch with Vince and offer to meet up for a drink is a good one. David cannot see why he should talk to the man, but Shula urges him to message Vince and get it over with. David does so and gets an immediate answer – Vince thinks it’s a great idea; in fact, why don’t they make a night of it and go for an Indian afterwards?
If David was horror-struck before, that’s nothing to how he feels now.
Horror-struck could also describe the feelings of Gavin. He is confidently expecting father Philip to give up work and leave Gavin to run the business. Well Gavin, one out of two isn’t bad, as Philip does indeed intend to give up work, but, sadly, an examination of the firm’s books reveals that there is no money left in it and Philip will have to wind up the business. What will Gavin do? Philip says it could be a great opportunity for his son to start up as a sole trader – Philip will let him have the van and all the tools.
But if Philip sells his house, where will Gavin live? Philip says that they will sell the flat where Blake and the other two workers live and Gavin and Philip will split the money. But what will happen to the other workers? “I’ll be selling them on” replies Philip, and he reveals that he has already negotiated a price with a buyer. Gavin is appalled, as the buyer has a reputation for ruthlessness. “We owe the lads a duty of care” says Gavin; something which makes Philip think that his son has lost it completely. Personally, I think that it’s nice that Gavin is showing signs of having a conscience, but I think that he is doomed to disappointment this time.
As we get near to Christmas, it’s time for the annual village lights switch-on and this year Tracy has decided to join in and is waiting on the village green. Daughter Chelsea is in charge of the lights at their house and, when the time comes for the traditional switch on round the green, where each house in turn lights up, Chelsea is found wanting and misses her designated slot. Tracy gets a phone call and rushes off home, only to find that her son Brad got very drunk and returned home. He just had time to say “I don’t feel very –“ before he upchucked all over the furniture and carpet. Tracy is furious and finds a plastic flagon with the remains of some cloudy beer in it in the garden. “And when I find out where he got it, there’ll be hell to pay” she promises.
It doesn’t take her long to track down the culprit, and she goes round to Jim’s house to accuse Jazzer of selling his home brew to a minor. Jazzer protests that Brad had I.D., which prompts an astonished snort from Tracy – Brad is 14. One wonders what was the I.D. – his Cycling Proficiency Certificate, perhaps? Jazzer isn’t having any of this – he remembers well how, when she was Brad’s age, Tracy would be drinking cider in the Cat & Fiddle.
The discussion (for want of a better word) is becoming heated and Jim diplomatically suggests that they should postpone this dialogue until another date. Tracy and Jazzer are still snarling at each other, but Tracy takes the hint and leaves, but this incident is far from over.
Indeed it isn’t, as Jim admonishes Jazzer and says that he should apologise to Tracy. Jazzer goes round to her house, and there is not a good start to their conversation when he says that the place reeks of vomit and can they have a window open? Tracy icily replies that it is freezing outside and she has already cleaned the room – twice.
Jazzer’s ‘apology’ is remarkable, in that the words ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘my fault’ never pass his lips. He does offer Tracy £20 towards the cost of cleaning up, but she is far from impressed. Again, Jazzer reminds her of her form for underage drinking when she was Brad’s age, to which she replies “It’s different when it’s your own kid.” “Like mother, like son” says arch-diplomat Jazzer. Having initially refused Jazzer’s £20 offer, Tracy now asks him for the money – not for her, but for Brad, as compensation for his suffering. Just stop him going round to Jazzer’s to spend it, Tracy.
While we are on the subject of drink, our thoughts immediately turn to Alice, who is away having detox – or, if you believe the story put about by husband Chris, away visiting friends in Bath – leaving Chris at home to suffer loneliness and anxiety about her condition, as well as the strain of fending off enquiries as to why she isn’t answering her phone.
Sgt Burns goes to the forge to remind Chris that they were due to go for a run today, and finds the farrier in a bit of a state – he is unable to finish a job that he has done millions of times before and there is much cursing, sounds of metal being hit with a hammer, and cries of anguish. Now, I’m no blacksmith, but I can’t help thinking that metal (especially hot metal), a forge, and hammers are not particularly good bedfellows with a mentally-disturbed frame of mind. SgtB obviously agrees and persuades Chris to put down the hammer and move away from the hot coals and go out on the scheduled run.
Chris is in full-on mode and Harrison suggests that they calm down, as he’s getting knackered. He has sussed that there is something wrong (move this man to the detectives!) and eventually teases the whole Alice story out of his running companion, after swearing that it will go no further. Chris says he cannot sleep; he cannot believe that Alice could have lied to him for so long, nor that he was so blind that he couldn’t see what was happening, and that he loves Alice and hates her (for lying and endangering their baby) at the same time.
Harrison repeats his pledge of confidentiality and tells Chris that nobody should have to go through this sort of thing alone; not Alice and not Chris, but at least by checking into detox, Alice has taken the first, major step. “Let’s get you home” says Ambridge’s favourite copper.
Two stories to finish on; firstly we have Eddie and David’s masterly plan to catch the Brookfield nighthawkers. They are going to arrange a meet at Brookfield and herd those who attend into a dead-end field. When it is sure that escape is impossible, David will telephone the police. “Will we need any more help?” David asks. “With the two of us, it should be a breeze” Eddie answers, full of confidence.
Oh, if only! You will have read/seen Starsky and Hutch, Batman and Robin and Holmes and Watson, but you are unlikely ever to read about Archer and Grundy. When Ambridge’s finest return to the scene of their trap, they find no incarcerated criminals, but rather, Eddie’s van with four slashed tyres. It appears that one of the rogue detectorists’ group spotted Eddie talking to David and cancelled the proposed Brookfield expedition. The violence of their response has knocked the stuffing out of Eddie, who has lost his enthusiasm for detectoring, even after David repeated his offer of exclusive rights on Brookfield land. Will tried to encourage his dad to continue but Eddie’s spark seems to have fizzled out.
Careers in the media are sometimes transient, and this week we saw the end of another; Susan Carter was told by Danny (her producer on Radio Borsetshire) that he has decided to end her daytime show. She had her latest guest – the chef from The Feathers (oh, come on – you must have heard about him; he’s been on TV and everything) cancel the very morning that he was due to be interviewed. Danny charged Susan with finding a replacement and, at such short notice, the best she could come up with was Bert Fry, who heard her stressing in the shop about getting a guest to stand in.
Back at Ambridge View later, Susan tells Neil that she had been let go and her radio career is over, but it was a blessing, as it was becoming very time-consuming. Neil says that he has been really proud of her.
Bert’s topic was ploughing matches, and the interview was not a success. In fact Neil, who listened to it on the radio out of loyalty, tells his wife; “Bert has no idea how boring he can be.” Now, I’m not one to talk about pots and kettles, but if you are described by Neil (‘Tedious’) Carter as ‘boring’ then I confidently submit that you do not have much – indeed none whatsoever - of a future on the after-dinner speaking circuit.
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