It's being reported on the news, Woman's Hour are devoting a daily slot to it and top political opinion writers are finding that the copy they file won't even be considered unless it mentions an everyday story of country folk.
Everyone is listening to the Archers and it's odd.
It's like being that child in the playground who was quite happy playing shops with the things from trees on his own until the cool kids decided to make it their game too. The poor thing then has to decide whether to stop playing, join the cool kids, or carry on his own game. Those choices aren't all valid, though, because the cool kids won't let him play and once everyone else has discovered his game it never feels the same again.
I'm pleased for the writers and actors of The Archers, of course I am. They deserve the praise. The Helen and Rob storyline has been beautifully played out and they have brought domestic abuse into everyday discussion.
I'm not one of those listeners that the press are writing about who are cross that their nice fantasy of 1950s country living has been destroyed because I'm not sure they exist or they haven't been listening properly. What about Grace Archer,who burnt to death in 1955 (I'm not old enough to have been listening since then but her ghost returned recently),Brian Aldridge, who was kicked in the head by a cow with BSE in 1989 and suffered from epilepsy for a while, John Archer, who fell off the Fergie (it's a tractor) and died on the day my son was born in 1998, (giving me an excuse for a huge cry during the Omnibus - nothing to do with milk coming in and cracked nipples, honestly!) , Kathy Perks, who was raped by Wilmot-Brown (I could be confusing soaps) in 2004, Nigel Pargeter who fell off the roof (don't ask - he was always an idiot), and many more? Helen, herself, hasn't had an entirely blameless life. Her brother was John (death by tractor), she lived with a grumpy gamekeeper who killed himself, became anorexic, had a son by AI (not unusual in the country - it's how all the cows do it), makes cheese and ran a village shop with her best friend until her brother (not the dead one) ditched the friend at the alter and the friend decided not to speak to her again.
I want to point out to everyone that is getting upset about what they consider to be unrealistic sensational story lines that IT'S JUST A STORY.
Honestly, you would think that writers have a duty to only write the truth. Nobody writes the whole truth. EVER. It would be boring. And parts of the story are probably truth for some people.
I like radio drama. It's only one step away from reading. I like the way it lets you picture things and I'm very upset about articles that show photos of the actress playing Helen. She doesn't look like that in my head. I like the way it stretches and grows over time. I am always so impressed with The Archers scriptwriters who seem to remember every earlier detail, even those that someone else wrote.
It's not for everyone, though. Just because something dramatic is happening that reflects a very important and under talked about part of every day life that doesn't mean that the Archers should suddenly become required listening. Soon, this story will be over and people who don't like listening to Lynda Snell complain (using the best long words ever) that she can't find a man (for her play), or Ruth laughing about the stock cube in the shower joke (No, I don't understand it either), or Jim and Robert in a bird watching war (quite a difficult thing on the radio), or the gentle sound of mooing from the sheep (Ambridge is the only place that you can hear sheep moo) will be very disappointed.
I'm quite happy not being one of the cool kids. I started listening to the Archers before I knew what it was and made a conscious choice to listen on a Sunday morning, while my mum made lunch, when I was in my early teens. Sunday was a ritual day. I would go to the local shop on my bike and be allowed to spend the change from buying the paper on some sweets. When I got back, instead of doing the usual teenage thing of disappearing, I sat at the table with the paper, writing articles that I would never send (always been a poor finisher) for the Young Observer Reporter's Club. I was a proper member with a battered card that went everywhere with me as I thought it would give me the access of Nancy Drew if I ever saw a murder (which I didn't). When I went to college I continued to listen on a Sunday morning. I don't think this made me very popular: 10am on a Sunday morning was always a little early for most students to be woken with the sound of Barwick Green dum de dumming along the corridor. The Archers on a Sunday morning has been my religion. Once I was asked to sing with a good choir and had to turn them down because part of the agreement was to sing on Sunday morning in church. "I can't," I said, "I have a prior committment."
"Oh, I hope you don't mind me being nosy but what do you do on a Sunday morning that you can't get out of?"
I did mind and made some excuse about the allotment and being so busy all week. It just wouldn't have been cool for a woman in her early thirties to confess to listening to the Archers, although I'm not sure that being an allotment owner was any better.
Now that I am nearly at the age where it would be fine to be an Archer's listener (average age 52) it's not something that needs to be kept a secret. The cool kids are doing it. Will they still let me play? Will they have changed the game forever?
I think I'll be OK though. I think the cool kids will stop playing before they destroy the game. Most are only reluctantly listening anyway and are, quite frankly, rude.
Why is it that the cool kids always think they know what us weedy little things are thinking? I do not think 'actual soaps' are beneath me. I'm not sure what an actual soap is. I currently have a regular appointment at Holby and have watched Eastenders, Coronation Street, Emmerdale, Brookside, Neighbours, Home and Away, Doctors, the Flying Doctors and Hollyoaks. I like stories. I like people, of all classes (what is class dyslexia?). The Archers has endured. I didn't grow out of it when I stopped being a teenager and it was no longer relevant to me. It didn't stop when not enough people were listening to it.
It's not for everyone, though. Just because something dramatic is happening that reflects a very important and under talked about part of every day life that doesn't mean that the Archers should suddenly become required listening. Soon, this story will be over and people who don't like listening to Lynda Snell complain (using the best long words ever) that she can't find a man (for her play), or Ruth laughing about the stock cube in the shower joke (No, I don't understand it either), or Jim and Robert in a bird watching war (quite a difficult thing on the radio), or the gentle sound of mooing from the sheep (Ambridge is the only place that you can hear sheep moo) will be very disappointed.
I'm quite happy not being one of the cool kids. I started listening to the Archers before I knew what it was and made a conscious choice to listen on a Sunday morning, while my mum made lunch, when I was in my early teens. Sunday was a ritual day. I would go to the local shop on my bike and be allowed to spend the change from buying the paper on some sweets. When I got back, instead of doing the usual teenage thing of disappearing, I sat at the table with the paper, writing articles that I would never send (always been a poor finisher) for the Young Observer Reporter's Club. I was a proper member with a battered card that went everywhere with me as I thought it would give me the access of Nancy Drew if I ever saw a murder (which I didn't). When I went to college I continued to listen on a Sunday morning. I don't think this made me very popular: 10am on a Sunday morning was always a little early for most students to be woken with the sound of Barwick Green dum de dumming along the corridor. The Archers on a Sunday morning has been my religion. Once I was asked to sing with a good choir and had to turn them down because part of the agreement was to sing on Sunday morning in church. "I can't," I said, "I have a prior committment."
"Oh, I hope you don't mind me being nosy but what do you do on a Sunday morning that you can't get out of?"
I did mind and made some excuse about the allotment and being so busy all week. It just wouldn't have been cool for a woman in her early thirties to confess to listening to the Archers, although I'm not sure that being an allotment owner was any better.
Now that I am nearly at the age where it would be fine to be an Archer's listener (average age 52) it's not something that needs to be kept a secret. The cool kids are doing it. Will they still let me play? Will they have changed the game forever?
I think I'll be OK though. I think the cool kids will stop playing before they destroy the game. Most are only reluctantly listening anyway and are, quite frankly, rude.
 |
| Suzanne Moore in the Guardian |
Why is it that the cool kids always think they know what us weedy little things are thinking? I do not think 'actual soaps' are beneath me. I'm not sure what an actual soap is. I currently have a regular appointment at Holby and have watched Eastenders, Coronation Street, Emmerdale, Brookside, Neighbours, Home and Away, Doctors, the Flying Doctors and Hollyoaks. I like stories. I like people, of all classes (what is class dyslexia?). The Archers has endured. I didn't grow out of it when I stopped being a teenager and it was no longer relevant to me. It didn't stop when not enough people were listening to it.
Long live the Archers, even when it stops being a phenomenon.
No comments:
Post a Comment