At 2 years a listener I am still a newbie to the docu drama about all things Ambridge that is The Archers.
I wasn't there when Grace and the barn went. I was not there when John met his grisly end under the tractor nor when Nigel plummeted from the roof.
Helen's turkey baster pregnancy that ended in the demon spawn that is Henry? Nope. Ditto Ruth's cancer, Brian's affair and Peggy's predilection for men named Jack.
I didn't grow up listening to The Archers at my mother's knee. It was all radio one in my house and I will be honest, I was scornful of those who worshipped at the altar of Alan's giant organ.
These days? Can't get enough. I hear the opening strains of Barwick Green and my whole body relaxes. I know it's time. That glorious hour and a quarter on a Sunday morning where I join with my #thearchers twitter family and submerge myself in the goings on of the week.
So what changed my mind? Mainly @yokelbear @allthisandless and @BLUESKY20. They are very good friends of mine of years standing and as long term listeners they all said I would love it.
Yet still I resisted. I have quite an addictive personality (totality of Breaking Bad in four sittings) and I was worried it would be something else for me to get sucked into.
And I was right.
Am I sorry about this? Hell no. My Sunday morning and Monday night (more on @Dumteedum shortly) have never been so much fun.
Here is my Sunday morning ritual. Alarm goes off at 9.30am (yes I have an alarm so I don't miss it. What?) and I get up, put the kettle on, go to the loo and have a ciggy. Make coffee. Go back to bed with said coffee. Headphones and radio on. Open Twitter. Listen to last five minutes of Broadcasting House and tweet 'Signing in. #thearchers'.
For the next hour and a quarter my fingers are a blur of tweets, RTs, favourites and replies. It is my church and this is my Sunday service.
But why? I hear you ask. Well there are a few reasons. Here are some of them.
The writing. It is sublime. Beautifully crafted. When Jack 2 died I cried at the tenderness. When Phoebe gave Kate both barrels I shouted my joy. I screamed when Tony got flattened by Otto the bull. I cried at Johnny's panicked and plaintive "grandad!".
Because it is on the radio and possibly because I listen on headphones it is close. Intimate. Personal. And all the more absorbing for it. When Otto lost it (because Henry was using his Omen powers I reckon) I couldn't see anything. It was all noise and screaming and panic and fear and noise and, and, and...
It was perfect.
Because I care about them. I care that Helen is being gaslighted by the abusive Rob. I care that Lillian is being abandoned by Matt. I even care about Shula and Alice's fight for domination over the direction of the Christmas show.
I care about who wins at the Flower and Produce Show. And I am not sorry. Not even a little bit.
It is bloody hilarious. The innuendo (taking Pavel up the polytunnel) the comedy (yes, when it suits you dear) and the ridiculous (Jolene and Harrison in the shower jumps to mind. Then won't leave. Ever.)
Lynda Snell's sniff.
I actually learn about farming. No, really. I know more about robotic milkers, herringbone parlours and anerobic digesters than you. Suck it up.
Plus there is a real community of listeners. The AmbridgeFeministCollective is a thing. We have our own nicknames for the characters, Piggy, Hellon, Titchynob and PC Harassment Carpet Burns being a few. We have our own in jokes, most of which are filthy and we have the marvellous @Dumteedum podcast that feels like a family.
Dumteedum.com is pretty much my favourite place on the internet. Run by @Roifield and @lucyvfreeman it is a raucous, irreverent and yet loving look at the goings on in our favourite village.
They are lovely. Ridiculously so. And funny. Side splittingly funny. And they genuinely care about their listeners and caller innerers.
They are family. I have met so many people through our love of Jolene and Kenton and they have been there for me through non Archers related trauma.
We even got together for an award ceremony last November where I fell a bit in love with Radio 4 goddess Susan Rae and scared the shit out of the actor who plays Rob Titchenor.
Good times.
So why not give it a go? What's the worst that can happen?
Well you could end up stuck in a conversation with Charlie Barber Spreadsheet about field rotation...
I wasn't there when Grace and the barn went. I was not there when John met his grisly end under the tractor nor when Nigel plummeted from the roof.
Helen's turkey baster pregnancy that ended in the demon spawn that is Henry? Nope. Ditto Ruth's cancer, Brian's affair and Peggy's predilection for men named Jack.
I didn't grow up listening to The Archers at my mother's knee. It was all radio one in my house and I will be honest, I was scornful of those who worshipped at the altar of Alan's giant organ.
These days? Can't get enough. I hear the opening strains of Barwick Green and my whole body relaxes. I know it's time. That glorious hour and a quarter on a Sunday morning where I join with my #thearchers twitter family and submerge myself in the goings on of the week.
So what changed my mind? Mainly @yokelbear @allthisandless and @BLUESKY20. They are very good friends of mine of years standing and as long term listeners they all said I would love it.
Yet still I resisted. I have quite an addictive personality (totality of Breaking Bad in four sittings) and I was worried it would be something else for me to get sucked into.
And I was right.
Am I sorry about this? Hell no. My Sunday morning and Monday night (more on @Dumteedum shortly) have never been so much fun.
Here is my Sunday morning ritual. Alarm goes off at 9.30am (yes I have an alarm so I don't miss it. What?) and I get up, put the kettle on, go to the loo and have a ciggy. Make coffee. Go back to bed with said coffee. Headphones and radio on. Open Twitter. Listen to last five minutes of Broadcasting House and tweet 'Signing in. #thearchers'.
For the next hour and a quarter my fingers are a blur of tweets, RTs, favourites and replies. It is my church and this is my Sunday service.
But why? I hear you ask. Well there are a few reasons. Here are some of them.
The writing. It is sublime. Beautifully crafted. When Jack 2 died I cried at the tenderness. When Phoebe gave Kate both barrels I shouted my joy. I screamed when Tony got flattened by Otto the bull. I cried at Johnny's panicked and plaintive "grandad!".
Because it is on the radio and possibly because I listen on headphones it is close. Intimate. Personal. And all the more absorbing for it. When Otto lost it (because Henry was using his Omen powers I reckon) I couldn't see anything. It was all noise and screaming and panic and fear and noise and, and, and...
It was perfect.
Because I care about them. I care that Helen is being gaslighted by the abusive Rob. I care that Lillian is being abandoned by Matt. I even care about Shula and Alice's fight for domination over the direction of the Christmas show.
I care about who wins at the Flower and Produce Show. And I am not sorry. Not even a little bit.
It is bloody hilarious. The innuendo (taking Pavel up the polytunnel) the comedy (yes, when it suits you dear) and the ridiculous (Jolene and Harrison in the shower jumps to mind. Then won't leave. Ever.)
Lynda Snell's sniff.
I actually learn about farming. No, really. I know more about robotic milkers, herringbone parlours and anerobic digesters than you. Suck it up.
Plus there is a real community of listeners. The AmbridgeFeministCollective is a thing. We have our own nicknames for the characters, Piggy, Hellon, Titchynob and PC Harassment Carpet Burns being a few. We have our own in jokes, most of which are filthy and we have the marvellous @Dumteedum podcast that feels like a family.
Dumteedum.com is pretty much my favourite place on the internet. Run by @Roifield and @lucyvfreeman it is a raucous, irreverent and yet loving look at the goings on in our favourite village.
They are lovely. Ridiculously so. And funny. Side splittingly funny. And they genuinely care about their listeners and caller innerers.
They are family. I have met so many people through our love of Jolene and Kenton and they have been there for me through non Archers related trauma.
We even got together for an award ceremony last November where I fell a bit in love with Radio 4 goddess Susan Rae and scared the shit out of the actor who plays Rob Titchenor.
Good times.
So why not give it a go? What's the worst that can happen?
Well you could end up stuck in a conversation with Charlie Barber Spreadsheet about field rotation...
