"Sounds simple enough," I replied. "Just as long as there isn't an incredibly depressing week full of suicide, misery and trauma!"
"Oh, that'll never happen!" said Glenda, and we laughed.
Anyway.
Sinead doesn't know the difference between coleslaw and a cold sore. I'd like to say I'm surprised, but... no. Just don't send her to the salad bar on her own.
Know your worth. Kirk generously dropped his price for walking Eccles from a fiver to three quid, even though Ken was perfectly happy with the higher charge. As he should be; five pounds an hour isn't even minimum wage. There's a fair few dogs in the show at the moment - Eccles, Rover, David the Yorkshire Terrier - and Kirk could be making a killing if he wasn't so kind hearted. You'll never make it as an entrepreneur unless you gouge your customers, and more to the point, Beth'll tear your throat out when she discovers her Tenerife money box isn't filling up as fast as she'd like.
Shona is the best. She's always been ace, but this week Shona went to another level, providing unflinching support to Eva and David and tearing into slimy Josh. She's the kind of friend/partner we all need, and Julia Goulding not only plays her brilliantly but also has screen charisma shining out of every pore. The only downside of her reconciliation with David is we'll lose Emma, whose non-sequiturs and general chirpiness have been a joy. I'm not sure why she's stuck with David, given that he treats her terribly and they've only had sex once, but since it meant she hung around calling Friends "a really old show" and wearing court shoes because she's going to court I'm glad she did.
Musical appreciation is genetic. Daniel had a chat with Ken about classical music, with the two of them appreciating a fine piece of opera. Where do you think he picked up a love for the great composers? I can't see Denise as the kind of woman who chucks on some Puccini of a Sunday afternoon; she strikes me as more of an 80s Europop girl, bouncing round the house to pounding BPMs and belting out The Only Way Is Up while she cooks the tea. Perhaps it was a passion that developed after she'd gone when, alone in the house, huddled over his baked beans, Daniel would slip on Madame Butterfly and mime along. He's developed into such a mini-me of Ken I'm starting to wonder if he's actually a clone. If he starts grimacing and running his hand through his hair in times of stress we should report him to the authorities as a crime against nature.
Jonathan Harvey should write everything on television, forever. "Forty-odd years I've lived on this Street. That same view, every day. Practically know every cobble back to front. I like to think we look out for each other round here. And without being nosy, know what's going on in each other's lives. But you don't, do you? Not that I knew him that well - just to say hello to really. But he was always polite with me, which is more than you can say for some folk. I hope I'd have listened, if he ever wanted to speak to me - not that he would've done. I wonder when he did it? When I was reading the kids a bedtime story? When I was getting ready for bed? When I was having some toast this morning? Or was I sleeping, safe, in here with the double glazing and the central heating, thinking our problems are bigger than everybody else's. Well happen we've all been sleeping mam. I keep thinking about poor Johnny. His son's not coming home tonight. I just hope to God mine is."
@merseytart would like next week's episodes to contain a lot of amusing outfits, bitchy dialogue and unbelievable plot twists so that this blog post isn't quite so hard to write.
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