Comments And Questions Update...

James writes with an unusual enquiry:

The Harewood Woolpack has 2 glass panels above the door. I seem to recall the Esholt pub had one big panel?

Yes, it did, James - see pic above.

E-Mails - Wikipedia On Emmerdale And Amos' Brother...

Amos (Ronald Magill) and Walter (Al Dixon) in 1984 - ignored by Press and viewers alike? And the Plane Crash story-line of 1993/94.

Rob is rather annoyed having recently had a look at Wikipedia, which, apparently says that Emmerdale was ignored by Press and viewers alike until the Plane Crash storyline, which, basically made it popular...

I've been reading the BARB monthly ratings, and apparently Emmerdale Farm had up to 15 million viewers in 1978 - and remember, Thames and Anglia were showing it at 5.15pm at that time. In 1984 it had up to 15.1 million viewers - although Thames and Anglia were STILL showing it at teatime.

The plane crash brought the show 16.8 million viewers in January 1994, its highest ever rating, but then it plummeted out of the top twenty in February and bobbed up again in March with a paltry 11.7 million. In April 1994 it had 11.6 and in May, 11 million.

The "Emmerdale was only popular after the plane crash" spiel is pure Wikipedia myth. Saying it does not make it so!

I remember once using Wikipedia in all seriousness to research a subject and ending up in a right old pickle. Wikipedia is largely facts as its writers would LIKE them to be in my opinion, and it changes day-by-day. Having said that, I'm sure it has SOME reliable information. But the fact that anything can be altered by anyone makes it impossible to trust.

Cerys writes:

Interesting to see Amos' brother, Ezra, on the Bugle. Have you any more details of his relatives?

Well, Cerys, Amos' Auntie Amelia threatened to visit in 1976, but never turned up.

in 1980, Amos' Auntie Emily Brearly (Ann Way) first appeared. She made a further visit in 1983.

Amos spoke of his great-grandfather Brearly as the man who began the family's undertaking business in Bridlington, and his Uncle Arthur was occasionally mentioned (he died in 1983), as was his cousin Alicia (who also died in the early 1980s).

Amos mentioned a long-deceased Auntie Ruby in 1980 - he was afraid that she was haunting The Woolpack!

Perhaps I should try and knock up a Brearly family tree!

1983: Amos Brearly's Brother...

Ezra Brearly (Martin Matthews) chunters on to Walter (Al Dixon) and Mr Wilks (Arthur Pentelow)...

Did Amos Brearly (Ronald Magill) have any brothers and sisters, asks Moggy?

Amos spoke of having a deceased brother and in late 1983 a very much alive one turned up in Beckindale. This was Ezra Brearly (played by Martin Matthews) - a butcher. "You could say as I went from one slab to another, so to speak," he told Mr Wilks, referring to the Brearly family trade as undertakers.

He introduced himself to Seth Armstrong as "Ezra Brearly - manager and proprietor of the Butchery, Whitehaven," and was also, apparently, president of the Whitehaven Chamber of Commerce.

Having eaten a few meals at The Woolpack, he told his brother: "If you'll take my criticism, Amos, as a man who knows his sausages, I don't like the look of yours!"

Ezra drove an old-fashioned motorcycle with a side car, drank a lot of Amos' beer, and it was apparent that the two brothers didn't get on.

STOP PRESS: GEOFFREY HOOPER - A TALKATIVE FIRST WALTER!

1980: Geoffrey Hooper's Walter chats to Amos Brearly (Ronald Magill) in The Woolpack.

Sometimes people ask me: "Why have you dedicated your blog to Emmerdale in the 1980s? Why the 1980s in particular?"

The fact is that was when I enjoyed the show most.

And all my regular visitors (bless you both!) know that I was a particular fan of Al Dixon - he played Woolpack Walter, from 1980 to 1985.

But regular visitors also know that there were two Walters - Geoffrey Hooper being the first.

Geoffrey Hooper appeared in the show from around 1974 to, I originally thought, 1979. Al Dixon became Walter around September 1980.

Indications were that Geoffrey Hooper's Walter was not always silent - he sometimes spoke. But I imagined him as being very like the Al Dixon Walter, and thought that in his later years he was silent.

Watching some episodes from February 1980 today, I was startled to see Geoffrey Hooper on-screen as Walter at the start of the new decade. Al Dixon's debut was still months away.

I must be honest - although I remember the first Jack Sugden and the first Dolly Acaster/Skilbeck, I don't remember the first Walter at all, so I was fascinated to see him - and to note the fact that he bore no resemblance to Al Dixon.

There he was, in early 1980, with Amos chuntering away to him and about to pull him a pint...

And then it happened!

"'I'll just 'ave an 'arf, Amos," said Geoffrey Hooper's Walter.

"But you never drink 'arfs, Walter!" cried Amos.

"Well, 'appen it does no 'arm to cut down," said Mr Hooper's Walter.

And there it was. Geoffrey Hooper was speaking in a way I could not imagine the 1980s Al Dixon creation speaking.

In his early days, I think I heard Mr Dixon mutter "Thank you," once when Mr Wilks served him. And he laughed out loud when Amos got into a twist over an attempt at DIY plumbing in 1981. But apart from that - silence. In the Al Dixon Walter years of 1980 to 1985, it appeared that the character never spoke - in fact it became something of an in-joke, with viewers in 1983 campaigning for him to speak.

Occasionally, other characters reported things that Mr Dixon's Walter had said, but he never uttered a word on-screen.

However, Geoffrey Hooper's Walter did speak - just how rare an occurrence it was I don't know, but he did speak!

And I've heard him!

And I'm flabbergasted!

I'm also surprised at just how different the two Walters were from each other facially.

I have to say, in my humble opinion, that apart from the way they dressed and their name, it is as though they were two completely different characters.

And if they were regulars in a real boozer, there is no way you would mistake one for the other.

I'll be up-dating the rest of this blog's Walter info over the next few weeks.

Coming Soon - 1982 - The 10th Anniversary, Walter's Budgie And 1984...

We're off back down our 1980s Time Tunnel at The Bugle with lots of fresh goodies in store...

We take a peek at the YTV press pack for the completion of the show's first decade in October 1982; we reveal the full facts concerning the Scandal of Walter's budgie, look at the era when Frankie Goes To Hollywood could be heard booming out of a JUKE BOX in The Woolpack (with Amos' full blessing!), and give you our long awaited 1984 Beckindale exposé.

So, twist those Rubik's Cubes, hoist those brick mobiles, go wild with the hair gel, plonk away on those ZX Spectrums and adjust those shoulder pads... There's LOTS more to come!

When Did Ronald Magill Leave The Permanent Cast Of Emmerdale?

Liz writes:

I know you only deal with the 1980s here, but can you make an exception because I'm mighty puzzled? When did Ronald Magill leave the permanent cast of Emmerdale Farm? I always thought it was January 1991, but I read recently on a Digital Spy soap forum that he "went part time" in 1991, and actually left in 1995?

The Bugle says:

Well, the 1980s are really our bag, but we'll make an exception just this once, Liz!

Ronald Magill left the permanent cast of Emmerdale in 1991, as you originally thought. He did a few short guest stints after that, up to 1995 we believe, but he was guesting, not on a "part time" contact.

When he left in 1991, Ronald Magill was honoured with his own tribute show from YTV - Last Orders For Amos, and also appeared on Wogan, where he had his famous mutton chop sideburns shaved off!

Fond farewell - Amos and Mr Wilks outside the Woolpack in 1991 - Amos actually called Mr Wilks "Henry"! - and (right) Ronald Magill appearing with Terry Wogan shortly afterwards.

When Do We Get To 1984?

1984 - friendly service from Henry Wilks (Arthur Pentelow). Meanwhile, Walter - played by Al Dixon from 1980 to 1985 - gets a new hat and faces a difficult time with charming mine host Amos Brearly (Ronald Magill).

An e-mail from Cerys, who asks:

At the end of last year, you promised us Beckindale tales of 1981 and 1984. Well, we've had lots of 1981 so far, but no '84. Have you changed your mind?

No, Cerys - I just got a load of material together from 1981 and thought I'd do things in year order. We have a couple of further visits to 1981 ahead, then it's 1984, I promise!

1984... when Amos tackles a microwave oven. Can Annie Sugden, a dab hand with an Aga, help? No, sadly not - she's never even seen a microwave oven before... Chaos ahead!

Also, why are Amos' customers periodically deserting The Woolpack en masse? Amos decides to interrogate Walter - who is (strangely) silent...

1984 is a very troubled year at The Woolpack... And elsewhere in Beckindale...

Relive it all here soon!

Amos And Mr Wilks - A Question Of Nationality

Amos serves up Mr Wilks' dinner.

I recently went to a wonderfully inclusive, totally non-racist St George's Day celebration in my locality, attended by people of many different racial backgrounds. It was an altogether terrific day (I was persuaded to do some morris dancing, but fortunately no cameras were present), and since then I've found myself pondering politics.

Devolution has brought about many changes in the UK, including a National Assembly for Wales and a National Parliament for Scotland. England continues to be ruled wholly by the UK Government at present, but there has been a reawakening of the knowledge that England is merely a country within Britain, and not Britain itself (in the past, this fact tended to get muddled!).

So what did Amos and Mr Wilks consider their nationality to be?

Well, back in 1981, Amos described Mr Wilks as being "English and Yorkshire!"

In 1982, Mr Wilks, speaking of Amos, told a Spanish visitor to The Woolpack: "He's not English - he's Yorkshire!"

Interesting...

Amos was definitely Yorkshire. And English too, I'm sure.

But, most of all, he was Amos.

It's my belief that if he'd had "Beautifully Barking" emblazoned across his passport, that would have described him far better than any mere nationality!

Amos: When True Love Was Crushed By A Crushed Ukulele

Was Amos ever in love as a young man, asks Cerys? Well, yes, perhaps! Of course, he asked Annie Sugden to marry him in an early episode, but that was purely for practical reasons - and he wasn't exactly young at the time. However, in 1982, he revealed a tragic story to Mr Wilks...

"I might 'a' married Gillian Partridge. Aunt Emily thought I should 'a' done."

"Who were Gillian Partridge?" asked Mr Wilks.

"Oh, very talented, Mr Wilks, very talented!" said Amos. "You've not seen her like this side 'a' Bridlington!"

"Mmm, sounds very impressive - what did she do?" asked Mr Wilks.

"George Formby impersonations," said Amos.

"Oh dear!" Mr Wilks began to chuckle. Even Walter was smiling. But then neither was what you might call sensitive.

"She'd 'a' won that talent contest - if Uncle Arthur 'adn't sat on her ukulele!" continued Amos. "It were all his fault. He ruined what were likely to be a very fruitful relationship!"

And so, it seems, Amos' youthful dreams of romance were crushed.

Just like Gillian's ukulele.

A Warm Welcome At The Woolpack...

The title banner from The Hotten Courier, official YTV publicity information, May 1st 1986. Fiction jostled with fact as the YTV version of The Courier, which was of course based on the fictitious newspaper featured in the series, covered news from the TV programme - cast characters, production team, etc - and was not focused on the unreal world of Beckindale. And yet it contained advertisements, just as the fictional Courier might do, for those arch rival hostelries - The Woolpack and The Malt Shovel - it even included the telephone numbers: The Woolpack's was Beckindale 828 and The Shovel's Beckindale 808!

"There's always a warm welcome at The Woolpack"...

Hmmm...

Yes...

I see what they mean...

Walter enjoys a Woolpack warm welcome.

The Woolpack, with Amos as landlord, was never the most convivial place: in the first eight years of the show, Amos was dour and sour, a gossip and given to puffing himself up like a peacock. Who wanted to spend the evenings with the likes of him and pay for the privilege?!

In 1980, Ronald Magill took Amos up to a new peak - he became less dour, but louder, more animated, more fad-ridden, more pompous, more prickly, more nosey... more everything! The old Amos could display sound commonsense at times. The '80s Amos was usually absolutely bonkers! I believe that the arrival of Seth Armstrong as a full-time Woolpack regular, plus the arrival of Al Dixon as Walter, and Amos gaining an allotment - all events of 1980 - contributed enormously to Mr B's increased oddness.

But he was a sweet, innocent soul underneath. I suppose that's why we loved him.

Am I A Fan Of The 1980s Walter?

Are you a fan of Al Dixon's Walter (1980-1985) asks Laura, via e-mail?

I loved that character, Laura - one of Emmerdale Farm's '80s and in fact all-time greats.

When Walter was in The Woolpack, with Amos chuntering on at him, all seemed right with the world!

Read The Bugle's Walter information here.

1981: The Beckindale Bugle

"But I've got my finger on't pulse, Mr Tyler..."

When Amos Brearly answered the phone at The Woolpack one morning in late May 1981, he never had any inkling of what was about to happen. He was a blithe, free spirit (well, as much as a Brearly could be) when he lifted the receiver. He was an absolute wreck when he hung up, blood pounding in his ears, despondency fighting intense anger, his life in absolute tatters.

And the first thing he did was to charge through to the back room and tear up the latest edition of The Hotten Courier - under the startled gaze of Mr Wilks: "Bear witness, Mr Wilks, to my severing - finally and forever - any connection I may have had with this worthless and dishonourable newspaper!"

As it was well known in Beckindale that Amos considered The Courier, particularly his contributions, as being just one step down from The Times, this statement came as something of a shock.

Amos, quivering and quaking (what would folk think?!) told Mr Wilks his sorry tale: Mr Tyler, the editor of The Hotten Courier, had decided to make staff cutbacks. And he had decided that Frank Hencoller could easily cover the "Beckindale angle". Amos described Mr Hencoller as a "drunken layabout" with as much journalistic ability as "a goose quill - still stuck in't backside o't goose, an' all!"

Once word got out, Amos would be a laughing stock. He decided to tweak the truth - he would tell people he had resigned - tendered his resignation due to pressure of work.

Still in a turmoil, Amos sought refuge on his allotment where Seth Armstrong, having heard the news of Amos' resignation from The Courier on his morning visit to The Woolpack, came to haunt him.

"If you've owt to get on with, get on with it - I'm in no mood for idle chatter!" said Amos.

But that didn't stop Seth - who was there to have a little dig around in Amos' brain pan and discover the truth behind his "resignation". Never a good liar, Amos spouted something about a "conflict of personality" at the paper. Seth leapt on that. But Mr Wilks had said Amos had resigned through lack of time.

"Aye, that an' all," muttered Amos, pretending to be concentrating on his allotment.

Seth buzzed around like an irritating gnat: "Not quite up to scratch, weren't we?"

Amos rose up before him: "That's nowt to do wi' it. There's problems on newspapers as don't occur to those as isn't un-initiated."

Unitiated? Well, that's what he said!

Amos told Seth that without a skilled local correspondent, The Courier would soon notice the difference.

"'appen!" said Seth, still gleefully stirring the pot. "But 'appen gap'll be filled - think on that, Amos!" and Seth set off on his bike, happy at the successful completion of yet another Brearly wind up.

But Amos was smiling. Happen the gap for a skilled local correspondent would be filled - and who better to fill it than himself? After all, The Courier didn't have a copyright on the local news...

"Why worry about editors and suchlike when you can be your own?"

The next morning, Mr Wilks found Amos up and about early, rummaging around for his trusty old camera, claiming not to have slept a wink the night before. He was clearly excited about something, and was soon sharing his news with Mr Wilks:

"I'm going to produce my own Beckindale local newsheet!"

Mr Wilks asked how he intended to get it printed? Amos had a small, second-hand photocopier in mind - going for the knock-down price of £20 in Hotten. The rest was easy:

"I'll write out all me own copy, type it out, and then get photos of items and events of interest, I'll sell it over't counter - could attract trade an' all!"

"If you felt like making any contribution, I might give you a byline to yourself, a photograph of yourself alongside. How about that, eh?" chortled Amos.

"I don't know if I could stand the honour, Amos!" said Mr Wilks.

Amos does his David Bailey act.

Amos went to Hotten to buy the small, "knock down price", second hand photocopier. I must say, it shows how determined he was: I've never known anybody to have a photocopier at home! "It could be best investment as I ever made!" said Amos to a slightly doubting Mr Wilks.

Amos told Mr Wilks he wouldn't demean himself by carrying advertisements in The Bugle. "No newspaper makes a profit these days - it's a public service!"

"Are you sure gratifying a personal whim doesn't come into it?" queried Mr Wilks.

"I don't know what you're on about!" cried Amos, The Virtuous.

Had Amos any idea of a name for his new venture? asked Mr Wilks. Amos had.

"How do you fancy ring of Beckindale Bugle?!" Amos smiled. And he donned his eyeshade to add an authentic touch to the proceedings.

Amos was soon running amok with his camera: he caused the vicar to upset a pile of books and papers when he got him to pose with a cricket bat at the Vicarage, and got on NY Estates' manager Richard Anstey's nerves by leaving the lens cap on the camera, thus having to re-take the picture of Mr A.

Jack Sugden was startled as Amos photographed him with some of the cows up at Emmerdale, and John Tuplin was bemused when Amos photographed him with some of NY's cattle. Amos tended to rush at each of his victims, sorry, I mean "subjects", jabbering away ten to the dozen, click the shutter, and be off, never taking more than one shot to ensure any quality control.

At The Woolpack, Amos announced to Seth that he was preparing a "photographic portfolio of local worthies" for The Bugle - and Seth just might be in the first edition - although he wasn't promising owt...

The Beckindale Bugle was put together by the original cut and paste method. Letraset lettering was bought for headings, and each article was then typed up in neat columns, cut out, and pasted on to a blank sheet of paper - together with the various headings. Amos planned to add the photographs when they had been processed.

He told Mr Wilks that he planned to run off "a couple of hundred" copies to start with. Publication day would be the same day as The Hotten Courier. The price of a Bugle would be three pence more than a Courier - 15p.

Mr Wilks is fed up with looking after a busy pub on his own and insists that Amos comes through to the bar to help. Amos decides he must burn some midnight oil after closing time...

Although Amos insisted that his publication would be a quality item, it makes me smile to remember just what poor quality photocopied photographs were. The process used by Amos was the one used by me and my classmates on my school's quarterly magazine back in the early 1980s. Nowadays things are totally different - and it all seems positively prehistoric!

Pasting up is coming on a treat - what a great front page...

Mr Wilks leaves Amos at his photocopier, to burn the midnight oil...

... the night ticks on into the wee small hours...

... and Mr Wilks discovers Amos slumped over his typewriter, dead to the world! Never mind. By the morning Amos had run off all the Bugle pages that did not feature photographs.

What seemed an insurmountable setback lay just ahead: "Wilson's want five days to develop that film, say there's nowhere round 'ere can do it quicker!" Amos mournfully told Mr Wilks after an early morning telephone call to the shop.

Mr Wilks had the solution: "Run off an addendum saying that the photographs referred to will be on display in The Woolpack during normal licencing hours sometime next week. Could be good for trade!"

Amos had to admit (although only to himself) that Mr Wilks could be a good and useful friend. At times.

And he'd learn by his mistake - for issue two of The Bugle, he'd have the photographs ready well in time, he decided.

Afternoon trade was brisk that day, and Amos had just given his proof copy of The Beckindale Bugle to the Rev Hinton, who was in the bar, to look at and make comments on "points of style", when Frank Hencoller came rolling in.

"You've got a rival now - that'll keep you on your toes!" Seth told him, as Mr H became aware of the vicar's reading matter.

"Not my fault, I only do what Editor asks me to," said Mr Hencoller, who was more than slightly squiffy.

His attempts to make peace with Amos were unsuccessful: "No 'ard feelings!"

"There may be no 'ard feelings on your part, I'll keep my feelings to meself!" Amos huffed.

Time flew by and the deadline loomed... Amos collated and stapled all his pages, and The Bugle hit the streets...

The photographs were processed and went on display at The Woolpack, as promised.

A selection of Amos' "Bugle" photographs...

"Why does everybody in your photographs look so surprised?" asked Mr Wilks. "I mean, even the cows look a bit startled."

"Well, folk are not accustomed to 'avin' Press on their doorstep," sniffed Amos.

Despite the advent of The Bugle, Mr Wilks did not intend to desert The Courier...

... but then that newspaper, via Frank Hencoller, committed a most ghastly act! Amos came charging out of The Woolpack, clutching The Courier as Mr Wilks closed the trap doors to the cellar.

"I let Vicar 'ave a look at my proof copy, remember? It must've got left on't bar and Hencoller must've walked off with it! He's used my match story, my show story, my vegetable story, in some cases word for word!"

Amos was beside himself and made to tear the copy of The Courier he held to shreds, but Mr Wilks wrenched it from him.

"That's censorship, Amos! What if I want to have a read of it still?"

" Then I hope you'll do me't kindness of readin' it elsewhere than in my presence!" cried Amos.

Was there anything that could be done about Hencollar's plaigiarism, asked Mr Wilks?

"Nowt!" said Amos.

As Mr Wilks sought to uncrumple The Courier, Amos' attention was caught by a figure across the street. "There's Walter. Eh up, he's bought a copy o't Bugle from't shop!

"Your first sale, Amos - let's hope you keep it up!" smiled Mr Wilks.

It was small consolation. But definitely some compensation.

Sales were going quite well and then Mr Tyler, editor of The Courier, phoned The Woolpack the day after publication...

Amos listened to what Mr T had to say: the gist of it was that Frank Hencoller had fallen down on the job quite literally - he'd collasped in The Black Bull in Hotten the night before and hadn't turned in for work that morning. Mr Tyler wanted Amos to cover the Beckindale Versus NY Estates Cricket Match. Amos agreed. On the condition that he was reinstated as local correspondent for Beckindale on the Courier staff.

Amos' demand was readily met, and Mr Tyler promised to put it in writing straight away.

It really was a famous victory.

"And where does that leave The Bugle?" asked Mr Wilks.

"Just as a threat, Mr Wilks," said Amos. "I reckon Courier were worried about competition. I knew they would be when they got to hear."

Amos revealed that he knew that Mr Tyler couldn't do without him: "A good newspaper needs folk with their finger on't pulse!"

But it was the end for The Beckindale Bugle.

"Mind, Bugle served a good purpose though," said Amos. "Perhaps I might not've got my job back if it wasn't for all the work I put in on't Bugle." And he sailed, gloriously victorious, into the living quarters.

"And if it hadn't been for Frank Hencoller being indisposed in't Black Bull!" said Mr Wilks. But not too loudly.

1981: The Cat And The Hat

Amos and Mr Wilks admire the new hat in 1981. Inset: Auntie Emily Brearly on her first visit to The Woolpack in 1980.

Emily Brearly's first visit to The Woolpack had caused much disruption. She had been horrified to find her nephew, Amos, meddling with the occult - bog-a-boos no less! - and departed in a great flurry - telling Amos that he should have the pub exorcised!

In 1981, Auntie Emily sent Amos a gift - a wonderfully classy hat. Very dressy. Too dressy in fact.

"This is the type of hat as history is made in," said Amos.

Amos' pleasure soon turned to disgust as his friends and neighbours sniggered to themselves whenever he came into view in his natty headgear, and Seth Armstrong serenaded him across Main Street: "Where did you get that hat, where did you get that hat?"

Mr Wilks and Walter were not impressed.

Amos did not want to give into the local philistines - he certainly didn't want to give into Seth Armstrong - and, besides, his feared Auntie Emily had bought him the hat and she would be not happy if she knew he wasn't wearing it.

Finally, he hit on a solution: Mr Wilks had adopted a pregnant cat, due to have her kittens any day. Amos decided that the hat was the perfect home for the new family - and organised things so that it looked like the cat had chosen it herself.

Of course, he couldn't possibly wear it now!

But Mr Wilks secretly guessed what he'd done, and told Amos that he felt dreadful about the loss of the hat (he, after all, had adopted the cat) and that he was going to buy Amos a new one, just the same as the original, from the very same shop.

Amos squirmed, and owned up.