It seems ages since I listened to The Archers.
Mrs S has been a reformed addict for several years now, but when Norman Painting died, it also formed a bit of a hole in the Scrobs' heart too.
On Sundays, Mrs S picks up on the latest episodes, and I usually adjourn to whatever has to be done, like sharpening the mower blades, or rodding the drains...
Years ago, when the Scrobs you love (hopefully), was in short trousers, at the 'Earlier Turrets', we used to listen to The Archers before we all sat down for tea/supper/dinner - whatever it's called now. Around the witching hour of 7.00pm, the wireless was King! My lovely sister and I would even stand on a chair so we could catch the sounds from the remote speaker high up on the wall, (which was the equivalent of a current squillion-pound sound system back in the fifties), and we'd gasp and chuckle at 'The Navy Lark', 'Take it from here', and most other programmes which were unmissable then.
When they killed off Grace Archer in the stable fire, we didn't have a television. We were in our usual positions on the chair in the 'Earlier Turrets', and then, came the fire!
Phil Archer's anguished last few words still hurt, and they were - believe me please - pretty powerful back then.
The Earlier Turrets stood still.
The next bits were confusing, but my Dad just said "They're not playing the music...", my Mum looked at her plate, and indeed, they didn't do the closing 'Dum de dum de dum de daaaaah...'.
It was deathly silent...
I didn't have clue about ITV starting that night, because, as mentioned earlier, we didn't have a television then...
'Bye Phil, I always thought I sounded like you, and now I don't.