Nuts in August...

When Deirdre decided a holiday was long overdue, our tanned leather heroine dreamed of the Maldives/Majorca/St. Tropez.  North Wales - in a freakin' caravan - was not on the radar. Unless you're Ken Barlow... Ken's vegetarianism seemingly means he wants to hang out in places without roads or proper shops, and spend time with people who breed and kill animals for money. Interesting choice Ken...

All our Deirdre wanted was a pool, a bit of sun and a good Jackie Collins...but Ken obviously sneered at such wanton philistinism. Insisting on outside toilets, long walks and picnics. Good for the constitution, no doubt... Despite Deirdre having already clocked somewhere for a good pub lunch (read as: liquid) - Ken's roasted pepper hummus butties, bottle of Montepulciano and assorted dips won out - Well, the wine did. Following in the great Barlow tradition, Deirdre drank the bottle and who could blame her? I would have drunk petrol...

After subjecting his wife to a night in a caravan even people-traffickers rejected, and National Service style toilet/shower block - Ken though she'd really love a long walk....wearing the farmer wife's shoes. Who said Ken doesn't know what women want? The ol' smoothie...

To be fair to Ken, Deirdre did get some dinner - mainly wine and Silk Cut, but it was something. I'm sure she was wishing for a couple of pork pies and those smoky bacon crisps she likes from the Rovers' though...

The outing took a terrifying turn though, when they then met 'Derek' the bull who had an instant attraction to Deirdre. Regular viewers will be aware, she's always had been a sort of nectar for small businessmen (Mike Baldwin, Dev...), but she can now add to this livestock too. 

Although, Derek turned out to be a lady bovine... 

The start of a new story-line for Deirdre? Well, stranger things have happened...

After such a delightful walk and feeling thoroughly reconnected with the great outdoors - Ken and Deirdre went back to the Bloc, and played cards. Whereupon, Ken suddenly realised they could escape and returned to Weatherfield to ruin Tracy and Rob's fun...

Every cloud, eh?!

Sweet tooth...

We pick up from the revelation that 'Jim' is the landlord and likes to brew a bit of grog. Just 'to make life in here a bit more bearable', for his fellow Her Majesty's Pleasure-seekers. He also likes posh biscuits. Chocolate ones. I wouldn't let that sweet tooth fool you though, so I wouldn't...

Whilst Ken and his hair are frantically trying to build a case for the defence, and Deirdre is 'worn-out' - (Not. Saying. A. Word.) - our Anti-hero Peter, is faced with the same old choice yet again. Between good and evil. Light or dark. Fight or be fought. Or in this case, Jim's booze to Ken's unquenchable desire for justice...

That said, Jim has displayed his more positive qualities. As well as Warlord and Landlord, he can certainly add Lifecoach to his CV. He could seriously rival The Speakmans (although I'm not sure who would be the most scary to be locked in a cell with)... 'Jim' succeeded where Weatherfield's own Atticus Finch (yes, Ken) failed - persuading our thirsty desperado to plead 'Not Guilty'. Although, it could have had something to do with Peter being half-pissed, and DC doing the Countdown theme in his ear before the hearing... 

He also drove Peter to steal DC's wine-gums. An act that in my opinion, was thoroughly deserved.

But, he didn't want the sweets because they stick in his fillings - so they do (I will stop this...). And like an infant Ian Paisley, he demanded biscuits... 

A microcosm of the 'Troubles' playing out before our eyes.

Only joking Peter! 


Cheeky 'Jim' had the booze all the long... 'Chateau de Bighouse' warming nicely in his front pocket. So, Peter did the sensible thing and got thoroughly mortal; tried not to slur his words, and laughed in DC's face when confronted over the confectionery theft. 

Oh, Peter...

Moonshine over Salford...

Well, well, well...hasn't it been an exciting week in Coronation Street? We've enjoyed chipboard wrangling, ice- cream injuries, a reconciliation between him from Red Dwarf and her that was on Dancing on Ice, and news of Deirdre's luncheon meat (sadly past it's sell-by, and now unpalatable to Ken). 

And, if all that didn't leave you completely KO'd - Peter Barlow has made a new friend in the Big House. I'm thrilled, mainly because his cellmate is an actual dickhead. 

The big drama started when Peter's son (Lou Ferrino jnr) decided he'd changed his mind about visiting his father in Prison with Granddad Ken, and would rather go to the Zoo with two murderers instead.

As you can understand, Ken's hair was livid. And, after admonishing and chastising the resplendent in beige Leanne, and the two murderers - Ken delivered the news to a deflated Peter. His one and only son, Simon: the love of his life, the reason he keeps going, his world...(ad lib to fade)...wouldn't be joining them for a body-search, machine coffee and quavers. 

Peter's response was fairly reasonable. Self-pity,and moonshine...well, we've all been there. 

It turned out that dickhead cellmate (DC) has his uses, and also a name (that I can't remember). He knew of a lovely chap, ex-landlord - who is known as - you'll never guess... 'The Landlord'. He's our man, brews a bit of booze but also 'runs' the prison... As the mini-bar was dry, Peter was more than game - looking decidedly more Spaghetti Western than Kitchen Sink...

The Landlord turned out to be Geneva Convention breaching, former warlord - Rodovan Karadzic, who has now taken on Jim McDonald's former life. The giveaway was 'Jim' letting a naive and green Peter in on his secret... 'some of my best friends are murders, so they are...' . When most men would run, Peter necked his pop like he was at the last supper. Luckily, Peter loves a drink with a splash of danger.

So, the Warlord is now the Landlord. And if there's one thing I know, landlords always call in a debt...

A recommendation!

The eagle-eyed among you might have realised that this blog focuses mainly on Coronation Street...however, I do like to try and keep up with other soaps too. Now, while I can't claim to be a massive Eastenders fan I do like to try and keep up to date with it. One blog I have found really useful has been eastendersunplugged:



- http://eastendersunplugged.wordpress.com/.


It's a great little blog and is clearly written by someone who really enjoys the programme and knows their stuff. It's full of updates, spotlight articles on characters, EE news and my favourite bit - discussions on classic episodes. I love this as it's a bit of a trip down memory lane - the only downside being I realise how old I am! ;-)


Even if you're not a massive 'enders fan it's still a mighty good read, and if you are you'll no doubt love it! 

'He's gone to the shop!!!'

Never have so few words held so much weight....

Yes, Ken's back! Hurrah!


Even an untrained eye could tell Ken had been away a while. A healthy bronzed glow had replaced the Barlow bleak beige and he hadn't hired a 'Streetcars' taxi back from the airport. Most tellingly, he thought 'surprising' his family would be a lovely idea. As the street's longest serving resident you'd think it would be imprinted in his every fibre of his being that this was very much the opposite; sort of like knowing when he's hungry or needs to visit the library. But I suppose maple syrup and vegetarianism can turn man's head...

Ken has returned a changed man. He's now vegetarian, (well, these intellectuals always have funny ideas), has begun to dress like an Umpire and is writing poetry (leave now Deirdre, now!). But Ken's lifestyle changes, pale into insignificance to the tumultuous time Deirdre's faced in his absence. He ain't the only one that's changed...

After the 'Surprise-Surprise!' of Ken's early arrival, Deirdre spent the rest of the afternoon keeping him prisoner in his own home and well away from the truth. In 'Goodbye Lenin' fashion, she shoo-ed away friends and neighbours, cracked on with a lasagne and pretended all was well. That was until Eccles decided now was time for her revenge and bolted...We all knew there was only so much those little paws could take... After witnessing the vision that was Deirdre racing like a be-slippered Zola Budd after Eccles, Ken suddenly felt the need for a bottle of brandy.

A fitting drink for someone who's about to get one helluva shock. Drink deep, young Kenneth you're going to need it... After bumping into Carla (could she smell that brandy?) he was soon up to speed. The beans spilled all over the Rover's floor, with a crowd of afternoon drinkers watching avidly, while chomping their crisps and supping ale ( a simpering Gail, Audrey and Les Dennis).
As the horror of the past few months unfurled, Ken ran through every emotion a man could - shock, disbelief, disgust, anger, grief - with the same expression. Stoicism incarnate...

Returning to No.1, Ken's fury was finally unleashed. 'How could you not tell me that my own son is in prison for murder?' 'What sort of woman are you?' he raged at poor Deirdre. Which is a bit much from Ken, who would be hard pushed to name all his children of the top of his head, and definitely couldn't pick them out of a police line up.

A tearfully apologetic Deirdre sobbed throatily, imploring Ken to understand and listen...to no avail. Eventually she got frigged off with his pious, sanctimonious preaching - roaring at him to 'Shut up! Shut up! Shut up...!'.

And with that, he did and went for a lie-down - never touching his vegetarian lasagne. Despite returning to a maelstrom of family breakdown, affairs, alcoholism and murder charges, there was one thing he was certain of. He doesn't trust that Rob...

Love Unlimited...

So, meanwhile, our blinking black widow Gail (three dead husbands!) was taking her relationship with Les Dennis to a new level with an afternoon of wet play. By that, I mean he turned up in his mate's ice cream van, and they cleaned it... The rest of the episode was a bit like 'Trees Lounge' on a tight budget and more depressing.

On a whim, they took the van for a spin round the sights of Weatherfield (...so yeah, the Red Rec and Freshco's...) and then decided to get drunk in her garden. As Gail lives on the posh side of the street, I'm sure it was Zinfandel and 'Walker's Sensations' all round. Les enjoyed it like a man who'd just been released from prison (oh, he had?!) and blinded by lust, took off his brown suede bomber jacket and moved in for a kiss....

Unfortunately, Gail's son Nick - who has a brain injury that no-one seems to give much of a shit about anymore - was peering through Gail's voile curtains and spotted them. Nick had had a bad day...well...more like a bad year, to be honest. He very nearly died in a car crash after his brother David, tried to kill him. His wife, Leanne left him and took up with his friend and confidant - the busty personal trainer, Kal. And, he's been left with a brain injury that makes him increasingly Basil Fawlty-like in manner. After another epic bout of Fawlty-ism; Nick pissed off his staff, had a row with his ex-wife, and then decided it was all Gail's fault for having the day off from cleaning the Bistro he owns. The ironically named, 'Just Nick's'...

Further incensed by the display of sheer eroticism between Les and Gail - or, 'Le Baiser Legendaire' - as it's now known in my house - Nick went ape and trashed Les's mate's van. 

Pushed to choose between a man who robbed her house, but bought her a new telly and tried to make amends - or a family who treat her like a recently trafficked slave - Gail sadly, dumped Les. The lack of verbal abuse had taken it's toll.... So, Les put his jacket on and left looking deflated.

So the cork's back in the bottle, and the Zinfandel's back on ice... 

"Thinking is easy, acting is difficult, and to put one's thoughts into action is the most difficult thing in the world."

There is no way that you could say this Corrie week has been a less than an action packed affair! We've been treated to a library sit-in - with Goethe quotes and collective action that would've made Bob Crow proud. An act on vandalism on Les Dennis's Ice Cream van (not a euphemism...) and a pensioner punch-up. All that, and more Eccles the dog bothering...this time by Lou Ferrino Jr - Simon Barlow...Phew! 
That's why I'll be doing this round up in sections...nothing to do with me being away for a few days, honest! ;-)


So first up, the campaign for justice. No, not the for innocent Peter. A far more worthy cause - against the closure of Weatherfield's knowledge and information hub... No, not Ken or Roy...


In shock news to Weatherfield residents, Roy announced the imminent closure of the never mentioned, yet heavily used local library. Roy only stumbled on this news when he tried to return a book borrowed by his late wife and fifth Beatle, Hayley. The news soon swept like wildfire. Emily Bishop's (Widow of the Parish/Church-goer/ part-time Anarcho-syndicalist) ears were certainly burning...



Roy, resplendent in beige and clutching his shopping bag proudly - immediately started a petition against the closure. A measured act for a measured man. That was until he met Yasmeen. As Chief Librarian, some may say she has a vested interest - that is until she starts her spiel. And by the thump, does she have a spiel. Every time she appears another Elizabethan speech is delivered with the swish of a pashmina...The nearest Weatherfield has got to Rosa Luxemburg. With a selfie...









Anyway...after hearing quite how Liz MacDonald *enjoys* a library, and lovely Craig can do his homework there without getting picked on, Roy engaged in diplomatic and tactical talks with Anarcho-Emily, and Yasmeen. Over milky coffee and shortbread fingers, Emily regaled with her previous experience of brick throwing and trespass. For a moment, I thought she was going to tell us about her time at Greenham...but alas not. I'm sure she had many a jumble sale to organise for, or was manning the barricades at Orgreave at the time


Roy eventually capitulated, and reluctantly engaged in a bit of direct action. Craig, Emily and Mary helped out too...but Craig had to go home for his tea, Mary had concerns about leaving her Motor-home overnight in Salford, and Emily was starting to nod off. Despite these setbacks, after a night-time sit-in - consisting of 'Rosa' and Roy falling out, eating cheese butties, heavy use of the reference section by Roy/internet by 'Rosa', and the eventual detente between them - the library was granted a reprieve... Hurrah! 

...Until it burned down!

Shit... 

But as Mary said, like a 'Phoenix from the Ashes (pun intended), the library will rise again'. And oh boy, did it?! Roy's got some bookcases and the 'Community Library' in Roy's Rolls is born! 

I can imagine it now. 'Fifty Shades...' over a toasted teacake...what more could Deidre want?