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.

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…