1980: A Crisis Of Faith...

The Reverend Donald Hinton, vicar of Beckindale, spoke of coming nearer to God than ever before in 1980. On retreat in the rarefied atmosphere of St Luke's, the vicar was able to ponder his role in the village. For some time he had been worried that the people of Beckindale did not use him properly: he was a useful signature for passport applications, gave advice on social services contacts and even, on occasion, plumbing contacts in the locality! He confessed to sometimes feeling like an "auxiliary to the Social Services Department".

Donald was gravely concerned that he was not meeting his responsibility for the spiritual welfare of the community, and determined to do something about it.

On his return, he gave a sermon which caused much controversy. Matt and Dolly discussed it at Emmerdale Farm:

"I've been thinking about what the vicar said," Dolly mused. "I reckon he were dropping hints about how the village needs to buck its ideas up."

"Well, no, not exactly," said Matt.

"Well, he were being unfair anyway," replied Dolly, who had quite made her mind up on the subject.

"I don't think he meant that. I reckon he meant that there are some jobs that are the vicar's and some that aren't - so don't go bothering him with things like passport applications which the doctor can do anyroad."

"Well, the doctor's as busy as he is - busier!" exclaimed Dolly.

"I don't think it's just that," Annie, who was doing some hand washing at the sink, broke in. "Happen he feels he does too much organising things and social work. He wants to remember what he is - a vicar."

The Reverend Hinton saw Mr Wilks outside The Woolpack. Mr Wilks felt that the vicar's sermon had given folk something to think about: "You should've heard the arguments in there last night." He indicated the pub.

"Arguments?" Donald was puzzled.

Mr Wilks told the vicar that people had been placing their own interpretations on what his sermon had meant, and that these interpretations were many and varied.

"What was your interpretation?" asked Donald.

"Plain enough to me. A vicar's got enough on his plate without having to worry about things like the church cottage drains - writing sermons, confirmation classes, visiting the sick, to say nowt of weddings and Christenings and funerals. Am I right?"

"Not really, Henry," said Donald. "It's not just a question of time, more of attitude. The village's attitude - and mine, of course. My first duty is to the spiritual welfare of the community."

Donald had a visit from the Bishop that afternoon. Whilst the Bishop was there, Donald received a telephone call from a villager enquiring about home helps. Having replaced the receiver, he spoke to the Bishop about his concerns:

"I'm here to preach the word of God, yet I seem to spend more than half my time on things like that!"

The Bishop felt that long retreats could be dangerous ("St Luke's has gone to your head!"), and reminded Donald that he wasn't a member of a closed order.

"If the vicar is regarded as... say, the man who gets the drains mended at Church Cottage, then no one is brought nearer the Kingdom of God!" said Donald. "People are lost in the maze that is 20th Century living. How am I to show them through the maze if I've just become another part of it?"

The Bishop admitted he was there on a mission - to ask Donald to become a rural dean. It would mean that Donald would be supervising half a dozen other vicars. But, with Donald's current thoughts and feelings, the Bishop realised he'd chosen the wrong time to ask.

"To save embarrassment I won't ask now. But when you've sorted all this out, I will. And I won't want the answer that you would've given me today."

Harry Moore was a cantankerous old man who lived in the village with his dog, Sparky. His wife had died over thirty years before and, after a recent fall, Harry was suddenly housebound.

He was lonely and spent a lot of time at his window.

The local Meals On Wheels service staff had long been told that only five minutes should be spent on each client. But Harry wanted more. He wanted company. As the Meals On Wheels ladies took their leave one day, Harry lambasted them from his window:

"You rush in, dump food on't table and rush out again! That's no way to treat a respectable senior citizen who's spent all his life upholding right..." The two women hastened into their car. "I'LL REPORT YOU TO'T SUPERINTENDENT!" wailed Harry. "NO TIME TO STOP AND BE CIVIL TO SOMEONE WHO CAN'T GET ABOUT! DO YOU HEAR? I'LL REPORT YOU!!"

Harry slammed closed the window and sat down, near to tears.

Matt Skilbeck bought some tobacco in for Harry after he'd requested it. Harry then began to regale him with tales of the past: "Did I ever tell you about the time Sam Pearson and me..."

"You'll have to tell me some other time, Harry - I've got sheep to tend to."

"Aye, you're same as all't rest!" said Harry bitterly. "You've no time to talk to an old man who gave best years of his life fighting for't likes of you!"

But Matt really had to leave.

"Vicar don't come to see me, so why should thee?" asked Harry mournfully. He'd knocked on the window to attract the vicar's attention only that morning, and had simply received a cheery wave in reply.

Matt was concerned about Harry and called on Donald to request he pay the old man a visit. "I'll come as soon as I can," promised Donald.

And he was as good as his word.

His visit was not an easy one. Harry wanted to have communion. But he hadn't taken the sacraments for over thirty years.

"My wife, Martha, used to. Only when you get to't near end you start to think about them things..."

Donald told him he hadn't come prepared to give communion.

"Don't you think we should have a chat first?"

"What about?"

"Well, you haven't set foot inside a church since I've been here. You haven't taken communion for over thirty years. I should like to know why. Did you just drift away?"

"I did not! I fell out wi't vicar!"

"You've fallen out with a good many people."

"Damnation to the lot of 'em! I don't like people. I like dogs. "

"God made man in his own image."

"More fool him then!"

"Harry, I don't think you're in the right frame of mind to take the sacraments."

"All't trouble in't world's caused by folk. Dogs don't cause no trouble - not if they're looked after proper. Dogs understand me."

"I don't pretend to understand you, not yet."

"You won't bring me communion, then?!"

"I'd be very happy to, Harry. But we've a good deal of talking to do first. And praying."

"I want it now! I'm not interested in all that. And if you're not going to give it to me, you can get out!"

Dolly, waiting to begin work at the local playschool in a fortnight's time, was helping out the Meals On Wheels service. Harry confided in her that he had a weak heart - he'd had a small heart attack two years ago, and the doctor had told him the next one might be his last.

Totally untrained in care for the elderly, but very well meaning, Dolly managed to patronise and upset Harry. Helping him to the table for his meal, she said: "Oops a daisy, here's your stick. Off we go then!"

"Oh, leave me be, woman!" cried Harry. "I'm not a baby! I can walk to me own table!"

Dolly was sorry for the old man, felt that he didn't mean half he said, and offered to return for a chat with him after she finished her Meals On Wheels round later that afternoon.

Dolly was with Harry when the vicar paid his second visit. Harry had confided in her that the vicar had refused to give him communion and asked her not to leave him alone with Donald.

"He's not gonna eat you!" laughed Dolly.

Outside Harry's cottage, Dolly asked the vicar: "What on earth have you done to Harry?"

"Only told him that he wasn't in a fit state of mind to take communion."

"But that's just him. You don't want to take notice of anything he says. All that matters is cheering him up a bit."

"No, not all. Cheerfulness you can bring him. I want to bring him peace of mind."

"Well, let him take communion."

"Oh, I've no intention of denying him. But not just to cheer him up. I may say I'm not looking forward to this."

And Donald went back into the cottage.

What followed was very difficult. Donald wanted Harry to pray with him. Harry refused.

"When did you first get like this?"

"Like what?"

Donald smiled gently: "A miserable old devil with not a good word to say for anybody? It wasn't your fall - it happened long before that. What happened all those years ago when you fell out with the vicar?"

"It doesn't matter now," said Harry quietly.

"How old were you then - fortyish?"

But Harry was no longer listening. "She liked dogs," it was almost a whisper.

"What?"

"I SAID SHE LIKED DOGS!!" tears were brimming in Harry's eyes.

"Who?"

"My wife, Martha. She killed herself. The vicar, he could've helped. He didn't - never had time. She left me a note. 'Look after Bess for me,' - see, that were her dog. 'Look after Bess for me'... That's all she said. 'Look after Bess... ' ". Harry was openly crying.

Donald leaned forward in his chair: "Do you feel like praying now?"

"Get out, Vicar," whispered Harry through his tears.

"We'll pray together."

"Go on, get out!"

"I'll see you again tomorrow. I think that's best." Donald left.

Harry, now alone in his cottage, sobbed.

The next morning found Harry's cottage door open and Sparky, Harry's beloved pet dog, running around the house and garden.

Sparky nuzzled his master's hand. But there was no answering movement.

At Emmerdale Farm, Annie was telling the family what she knew of Harry Moore's wife:

"It were a long time ago. She were a strange lass. The only child of elderly parents. Lived in that cottage t'other side o't bray. She was found drowned. Accident, the coroner said. But there was talk. That was more than thirty years ago."

A little later, Donald was making his way towards Harry's cottage, dressed to give the old man the communion he so desperately sought. As he neared the cottage, he saw an ambulance and a small crowd standing outside.

"Has Harry been taken ill?" Donald asked the postman.

The postman had actually found Harry: "He must've had a heart attack. He'd been dead some time. There's nowt anybody could've done, doctor said, unless they were with him when it happened and not much chance then. Best you can say is Harry probably knew nowt about it."

"Lord, let us us now thy servant depart in peace..." murmured Donald.

He was shocked to the core and went to the church to pray. Here, PC Ted Edwards, the local bobby, found him. He was trying to establish Harry's time of death and thought that Donald was probably the last person to see him alive.

"What was his state of mind?" asked Ted.

"He was a little upset. With me, I'm afraid. I'd refused him communion. It seemed to me that his attitude was not conducive to a state of grace. I'd no right to do that. I was guilty of passing a judgement that only God can make."

"Yes, well," - all this was way beyond Ted: "It's just a question of an approximate time of death..."

The vicar appeared not to hear him: "I knew about his heart. I let my own concerns and worries come first..."

After Ted had taken his leave, Donald sank to his knees again.

Later, up at Emmerdale Farm, Donald confided his inner turmoil to Annie:

"I passed judgement on a man without knowing him at all."

"You can't blame yourself for not knowing him."

"Oh no, if I'd done my duty... I should have talked to him - found out who he really was."

"Do that for everyone you'd have no time for owt else..."

"No, don't make excuses for me, Annie. I know I was in the wrong."

"You acted according to your beliefs. No man could've done more."

Donald was still deeply unhappy: "The balance was wrong - in me. There was nothing wrong with my decision to put prayer and the search for God before my social work obligations but I pursued that decision to the point when I let my own doubts interfere with my practical religious duties. I was guilty of a lack of balance, Annie. And that led to Harry Moore dying without the solace of the communion that he wanted."

"It's easy to see that now. But there's lots of things most of us wouldn't have done in our lives if we'd been able to see into the future."

Donald frowned and rubbed his forehead: "At least we can learn from the things that do go wrong. In St Luke's, I came nearer to God than at any other time in my life. I wanted that union to last. And others to join me in it. But for a parish priest I went about it the wrong way. Everything that happens in the parish is important because the people are important. There are so many roads in the search for the Kingdom of God, Annie. If I'm to do any good, I daren't ignore any of them."

"Seems to me if you want to take folk with you, you've got to make sure they're on your side."

Donald smiled: "Which sums it up far better than I could have done!"

"I'm on your side!" Annie declared. "And if you want any help gathering the lost sheep... First thing is to fix a new date for the Church Council meeting!"

"No," Donald corrected her, his balance restored. "First thing is to help you with the washing up!"

After thoughts...

Reading my account of this story is a very second rate experience compared to actually watching the episodes concerned. The story, which took loneliness, suicide, religious issues and sudden death as its themes was, quite simply, an example of 1980s Emmerdale Farm at its very best.

The lead players were absolutely brilliant - Walter Sparrow evoked great pity as Harry Moore - I was actually moved to tears, Hugh Manning, as the Reverend Donald Hinton, was, as always, a joy to watch, as was Sheila Mercier (Annie Sugden). Jean Rogers, newly arrived as Dolly Skilbeck also gave a sterling performance. This was an excellent and highly thought provoking piece of television drama.

1980: Domestic Crisis At The Woolpack...

There were no plane crashes in Emmerdale Farm in the 1980s, nor terrible storms, nor brawling Woolpack regulars, but Beckindale's favourite inn did have its fair share of crises in those days. Take this one:

Having just hand-washed a few tea towels at The Woolpack in the spring of 1980, Amos Brearly discovered that he couldn't disperse the suds left in the kitchen sink after he'd let the water out.

The vicar, the Rev Donald Hinton, paid a visit whilst Amos swished his marigolded hands around in the suds, and Amos confided in him:

"It's always't same. I can't get soap suds to go down't plug hole..."

"I have exactly the same problem," said Donald.

They pondered the problem long and hard, in fact the vicar was concentrating so hard he barely heard Amos discussing other matters.

Donald hit upon a possible solution: "Perhaps if you turn on the cold tap?"

Amos tried this and, with the aid of a little more hand swishing, the suds gradually disappeared.

Crisis passed.

1980: Something Fishy...

It all began when Sam Pearson returned from a competition prize holiday in Ireland with a large pike he'd caught. The time taken journeying to England had done the pike's personal freshness no favours at all and by the time it arrived at Emmerdale Farm it was distinctly smelly.

Some people, including Dolly Skilbeck, made fun, but Sam was so proud of his catch that he wanted to have it stuffed and mounted above the fireplace as a permanent reminder of his angling triumph.

This was easier said then done. As the fish exuded an increasingly unlovely odour out in Sam's shed, the old man set about trying to contact Fletcher's, the taxidermist in Hotten. The telephone was always a challenge to Sam and he was soon flustered and annoyed.

He shushed Annie and Dolly as he prepared to make the call.

"You haven't started yet!" Annie pointed out.

"Annie, I can't be doing with people talking when I'm on the phone! Oh, now I've forgotten where I was - I'll have to start again... Ugh, now I'm getting the 'Number Unobtainable' signal!"

Finally he got through to the number he required:

"Barbara's Boutique, can I help you?" asked a youthful female voice.

"What do you mean 'Barbara's Boutique'? Are you the taxidermist or are you not?" roared Sam. "No, no - not taxi service, taxidermist, someone who stuffs things?" Suddenly, Sam slammed the phone down.

"Now what?" asked Annie.

"She said she'd stuff me into a pair of jeans any day - the brazen young hussy!"

Annie rang directory enquiries. It transpired that Fletcher's was no longer in business and the number had been Barbara's Boutique since last February.

"Well, they've no right to go mucking about with the numbers like that!" cried Sam.

Annie suggested looking up a taxidermist in the Yellow Pages - but Sam had had enough and went stomping off out. Annie did it instead.

Sam hadn't gone far - just to his shed, where he began to wrap the pike in newspaper.

"This is where you've got to - ugh, ugh!!" Annie broke off to put her hand over her nose, overcome by the fishy stench. "I thought you'd like to know there's a taxidermist in Bradford."

"Too late now, I've made up my mind!" said Sam, busy with the newspaper.

"To do what?" asked Annie.

"You were all against my having it stuffed in the first place! Right, it can go in the dustbin!"

"Don't be so foolish. I've found a taxidermist for you - best thing you can do is to come down and ring him."

"No, Annie, I've gone off the idea," said Sam, rather sulkily.

"Get rid of that fish and you'll regret it tomorrow - you know you will!"

"It won't be the first thing in my life I've regretted, will it?"

"If you don't ring him, I will!"

"Suit yourself!"

"Promise me one thing - you won't throw that away until I've phoned him?"

The fire died. Sam sighed. "I'll phone him. I wish I'd never caught it now in the first place!"

Sadly, the taxidermist in Bradford only did casts and that wasn't what Sam wanted. He was now determined to get rid of the fish and in quite a state about it all, ranting away and doing a great deal of arm waving. Annie had a gentle word with him: "There's no need to take it out on me. Or yourself, now is there?"

Once more the fire died. Annie was quite right - as she so often was.

Sam was now calm and resigned. The pike was going in the dustbin. Matt Skilbeck caught him about to close the lid on the smelly article, and called: "Eh, Grandad - what you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" replied Sam, rather terse.

"Well, hang on a bit. You want a record of that pike, don't yer? Dolly's got some film left in her camera she wants to use up. Just wait a minute, I'll go and get it."

Sam was most impressed with the idea.

But it wasn't easy to smile for the camera...

Say "Cheese"? Say "bleurrggh" more like! The stench was growing ever more powerful.

"Couldn't you manage to look a bit more cheerful?!" asked Matt. Then he had a brainwave - a group photograph! He went to fetch Annie and Jack from the farmhouse...

... leaving Grandad alone with his pal. Although he wasn't posing for the photograph at that point, Sam still kept the fish at arm's length whilst he waited.

Annie and Jack came out to the farmyard. Everybody tried to look jolly. The fish was now absolutely reeking. "Er, hang on a bit... no, you'll have to get in a bit closer," said Matt looking through the camera's view finder. So, Annie and Jack did. "That's better. Right. Now then, look at the fish... and smile!"

Jack grimaced: "It's not the easiest combination!"

A week or two later, Sam was in the Woolpack: "Oh by the way, Amos, you haven't seen this photograph, have you? You haven't either if it comes to that, Seth."

"What photo's that then, Sam?" Amos asked, a bit dour.

Sam passed him one of the photographs Matt had taken - a particularly good one of him alone with the fish. He'd even managed to dredge up the semblance of a smile.

He suggested the photograph could appear in The Hotten Courier.

"Well, angling's not my area, Sam - I could pass it on, though," said Amos. "It certainly is a big fish, in't it, Seth?" He passed the photograph to Seth.

"Aye, it's a record of skill is that!" said Sam, rather boastfully.

"Luck!" said Seth, quietly.

"Eh, what did you say?!"

"I said there's luck an' all. Anybody can catch a big fish if they're in't right place at the right time!"

Sam and Seth had already had words recently about fishing and the importance of local knowledge. Sam had pointed out that he had been fishing around Beckindale since he was a nipper, and he could give Seth a few years.

Now, with his prized Irish pike catch being ridiculed, Sam was outraged: "Seth, that was skill and nowt but skill! Are you suggesting that my angling leaves summat to be desired?"

"Nay, Sam!" said Seth, innocently.

"Now then, Sam!" cried Amos, fearing verbal or physical violence on his licenced premises.

"All right!" said Sam placatingly - he turned back to Seth: "We'll have a competition - we'll go out fishing you and me and we'll see who catches the most!"

Seth was delighted. But it wasn't joy at the prospect of baiting fish that made him smile. It was joy at baiting Sam Pearson.

On the day of the fishing contest, Sam was all of a fluster. He turned his shed and the hall cupboard upside down in search of his fishing rod - despite Annie's insistence that it was in his bedroom. Finally she went to find it for him and discovered it immediately - under his bed.

Seth arrived...

... and the two set out to prove their angling superiority...

It was quiet down by the river side. And grim. The atmosphere was distinctly hostile. The negative atmosphere mainly came from Sam - Seth was thoroughly enjoying his sport.

Tired after the excitement of preparing for the contest and lulled by the sound of running water, Sam began to nod off.

"ALL RIGHT, SAM?!" bellowed Seth, making Sam jump out of his skin.

"Shut up!" Sam left his reel and went over to Seth: "It's a fishing competition not a bloomin' football match - shouting like that!"

At that moment there was the sound of something pulling on Sam's line. He hurried back over to his fishing rod but by the time he got there the only thing on the end of his line...

... was an empty hook. Seth, of course, laughed like a drain.

Jack arrived to see how the two were getting on. Seth said he wasn't doing badly. Jack went to see his grandfather.

"You winning, Grandad?"

Sam shushed him and told Jack he wasn't doing badly.

"You're about as communicative as Seth!" grinned Jack. "Can I have a look?"

Sam stopped him "Don't look in there! I don't want him to see!"

"All right with me. But he'd not see from there, not with me in between."

"Seth's got eyes like a hawk," said Sam. He looked across at the wily gamekeeper. "Got a face like one an' all!"

Jack took his leave, and Seth grinned at Sam and gave him the thumbs up. Sam glared back. This was war and Sam didn't fraternise with the enemy.

"How about calling it a day then, Sam?" called Seth at last.

"Oh, I don't know, Seth, I can go on for a bit longer."

"Aye, me too, but I've got a bit of a thirst up. 'Ow about it?"

"Fair enough, come on then," said Sam.

"Are you going to show first?" asked Seth.

There ensued a bit of haggling over which man should show his catch first. Finally, Seth did.

"There! I'm glad it's not strip poker!" said Seth.

"Is that it?!!" Sam was incredulous.

"You've beat me this time, Sam Pearson. It's Seth Armstrong, also ran." Seth gracefully accepted his defeat.

"Well, Seth, I'll not keep you in suspense any longer," said Sam, reaching down for his catch. "There!"

And he held up the sum total of his endeavours - a tiny fish to match Seth's.

Seth laughed: "It's local knowledge as does it! Put mine and thine together, lad, and we wouldn't be eating tonight!"

Sam joined in the laughter. "Well, Seth, it's like you said there's a lot of luck in it and today we had bad luck!"

"Aye, What we gonna tell folk, though?"

"We'll tell 'em it were a draw - we threw 'em back, no more, no less!"

"We threw 'em back?" asked Seth, doing just that with his fish.

Sam followed suit. "That's it. And if they keep asking us the same question we'll give 'em the same bloomin' answer!

And that's just what they did.

Amos Brearly told Seth the result seemed like an anti-climax. But Seth replied that there had been the thrill of the chase - "Two souls locked in combat to see who were't better man!"

The reality of the situation was that Seth had thoroughly enjoyed his sport. He'd wound Sam up a treat.

1980 - The World And Beckindale

1980 was the first faltering step into a new decade which would bring massive change to all our lives. So, what was it like in the real world and in Beckindale?

For a start, forget the rewritten version of the 1970s - that decade was, in reality, no gloriously funky idealistic love fest. 1960s idealism vanished like spit on a griddle in the early 1970s, and in 1980 Jack Sugden (Clive Hornby) was asking the Rev Donald Hinton (Hugh Manning) whatever happened to idealism? From the conversation, it's evident that idealism had been gone for some time!

Not that there wasn't any idealism in 1980, but the 1970s had eroded it with a thick layer of cynicism, anger and violence.

Beckindale was in some ways still lingering in the distant past. Traditions were strong and storylines featured the annual village show, the Butterworth Ball cricket match and, regularly, Sam Pearson (Toke Townley) insisting that the old ways were best.

In 1980, there were no hand held mobile phones. Indeed, Judy Westrop (Jane Cussons), staying at Joe's house in Demdyke Row, phoned her father from a call box as Joe was not "on the phone" at all! In the street where I lived, which was working class poor, only one household had a phone in 1980.

The year saw the release of the ZX80, but computer technology was still alien in most of our homes. And whilst the internet had been invented as part of the American defence system back in the 1960s, the World Wide Web would not be invented until 1989. Video technology had been around for a very long time, but domestic video recorders only a few years. In 1980, just 5% of UK households had a video recorder. They were hugely expensive to buy and monthly rental commitments were also costly and unwelcome in those hard-pressed times.

As for telly, we had three TV channels - but as BBC2 was minority interest (or just plain "highbrow"), it actually felt like two.

New on telly in 1980 were Yes Minister, Juliet Bravo and Training Dogs The Woodhouse Way. This was also the year that fledgling American soap Dallas suddenly peaked with the phenomonal "Who Shot JR?" story line.

In Beckindale, folk didn't spend a lot of time gazing at the goggle box in 1980. In fact I don't think I saw any characters watching TV in the 1980 episodes I viewed recently. There were, of course, better things to do. Jack, Joe (Frazer Hines) and Matt (Frederick Pyne) philosophised and debated in the fields (especially if series creator Kevin Laffan had written the episode!), Annie (Sheila Mercier) cooked away at her faithful Aga, made chutney, went to a WI conference and arranged the flowers in church, old Sam Pearson took up oil painting, Dolly (Jean Rogers) delivered meals on wheels and worked at the local playschool, Amos (Ronald Magill) kept Mr Wilks (Arthur Pentelow) well occupied with his moods and fads, and Seth (Stan Richards), who became a permanent full-time character in the summer of 1980, made mischief.

The vicar comes to tea at Emmerdale Farm.

In the news in 1980, England got its first nudist beach on April 1 - in Brighton, where else?! Racial tensions flared briefly, a foretaste of the turmoil to come in '81, and after much humming and hawing we were going to the Moscow Olympics - a highly controversial decision.

Behind The Iron Curtain, Lech Walesa formed Solidarity, and a beastie that would ensnare us all burst from behind the Curtain: the obscure Hungarian puzzle, Magic Cube, was remanufactured to Western World standards and renamed Rubik's Cube in 1980. The first of these arrived in the UK just before Christmas, and there was an initial shortage, but in the spring of 1981 we were fully stocked and they were everywhere.

In the Emmerdale Farm saga, a Cube appeared on screen in 1982.

The personal stereo, invented in Japan in 1979, reached the UK in 1980 - and was known as the "Sony Stowaway" here until 1981 when it was patented under its original name - the Sony Walkman. I haven't spotted any of these in my viewings of early 1980s Emmerdale Farm episodes yet.

Space Invaders, invented in Japan in 1978 and first exhibited at a UK trade show in 1979, were making huge waves - and eating up lots of pocket money. In Japan, a new game arrived - Puckman. Within a year, it would be renamed Pac-Man and by about 1982 was beating Space Invaders hollow in the pocket money wars in the UK.

In the Beckindale of 1980, Space Invaders did not seem to exist, although they would be making an appearance in 1981. But it seemed there were more pressing things for the villagers to puzzle over in 1980. The re-emergence of a feminist movement in the 1960s was making people question their traditional roles. But could one of Beckindale's staunch olde worlde types cope with his daughter becoming a farmer? That question was raised in 1980.

Children should be seen but not heard was Elsie Harker's maxim, so imagine her distress when Jackie Merrick (Ian Sharrock) filled her pristine little cottage with glorious sounds like Two Pints Of Lager And A Packet Of Crisps Please!

Beckindale was a staid community, a safe haven for the likes of Nellie Ratcliffe (Gabrielle Blunt), but in 1980 it gained two permanent teenage characters in the shape of Jackie and Sandie (Jane Hutcheson).

And the fact that the sanctity of marriage was not all it used to be was brought home by the fact that Jackie and Sandie's mother, Pat (Helen Weir), was planning to divorce her husband, Tom (Edward Peel).

Fashion in 1980 was hit and miss. Flared trousers harked back to the late 1960s, and were still to be seen in 1980. The '70s had found it impossible to step from the '60s shadow fashion-wise. New Romantics flounced onto Top Of Pops - but, of course, there were no Adam Ant "looky likeys" in Beckindale.

The old folk wore what they were used to - and had been used to for donkey's years. Sandie and Jackie looked vaguely out of date - during the last couple of years of the '70s drain pipe trousers had been coming back into fashion and it was surprising to see Jackie in 1980 tramping around in the type of walloping great flares that had been so new, fresh and exciting in 1968 and had stagnated for much of the 70s.

But then that wasn't much brass about so clothes were often kept until the last ounce of wear had been extracted from them.

In the world of real life fashion trends, donkey jackets were becoming a youth fashion statement.

The biggest change of 1980 was the election of Ronald Reagan as American president in November. More than anything else, this was the pivot which set the 1980s on course. What happened in America had a great effect on the rest of the world, and it was in America that the '80s dream of wealth came about - the term "yuppie" was coined there c. 1981 or 1982 - and the decade altered dramatically.

But in 1980 there were no yuppies. And certainly nobody at all like that in Beckindale.

The old order in the village had taken a severe knock in 1978 when large farming corporation NY Estates had bought the local manorial family's house and land. In late 1980, a link was forged between the old established Sugden family and the corporate newcomer when Joe went to work for NY Estates.

Many Beckindalers still went to church and the vicar took his job very seriously indeed.

In the pop charts, we loved D.I.S.C.O., Ashes To Ashes - the video was absolutely groundbreaking, Ant Music ("Don't tread on an ant, he's done nothing to you..."), Oops Upside Your Head (down on the floor please!) and To Cut A Long Story Short...

On at the flicks were The Empire Strikes Back and Breaking Glass.

But Beckindale folk didn't worry about going to the pictures. There was far too much going on in the village...

Having taken a look at the background year to this special month of Back To Beckindale features, it's time to climb into our own personal Tardis, set the co-ordinates, take a quick trip through the time tunnel and step outside into Beckindale, 1980...

The birds are singing. The sun is shining. The air is sweet and cool. But there's a smell wafting in the breeze, a very disenchanting smell indeed... a kind of evil fishy odour...

Click on the 1980 Month label below from 1 August onwards to read more...

Matt And Dolly, The 1980s And Emmerdale Farm...

Matt and Dolly at home on Emmerdale Farm in the 1980s.

A couple of interesting e-mails...

Richard asks about my views on Matt and Dolly Skilbeck and the part they played in the Emmerdale Farm saga in the 1980s. And were the characters reconciled when Dolly left the show in 1991?

Matt and Dolly were two of my favourite Emmerdale Farm characters - they were Mr and Mrs Average, and provided a bit of everyday normality in a show which had a number of larger than life characters.

It wasn't easy for Jean Rogers to step into the role of Dolly in 1980, she spoke of how complicated it felt playing a character originally portrayed by another actress in several newspaper interviews. But she soon made Dolly all her own.

I think it was a great shame that the couple split up in the Stuart Doughty era, and I believe that after this both seemed a little lost as characters. Matt's departure in December 1989 saddened me.

This blog is not really about the 1990s, but I thought it was daft that Dolly was then seen to get involved with a bit of a villain, and to have an abortion. This last act seemed very out of character and didn't ring true at all. Actress Jean Rogers was herself unhappy with this storyline as Dolly had lost two children during pregnancy and absolutely loved kids.

Were Matt and Dolly reconciled? Well, Dolly did leave for Norfolk, where Matt was living, and, although it was never stated on screen, I'm a romantic and I hope they were.

Certainly, when I discuss Emmerdale Farm in the 1980s with friends, the mere mention of the names "Matt and Dolly" usually brings forth fond smiles and a flood of recollections.

The pair are soap legends!

Chrissy Lawton writes:

I like Back To Beckindale, it covers a time before I was born and I'm really surprised that Emmerdale Farm was so popular in the 80's, because Wikipedia says it wasn't! Why did you pick the 80's for your blog?

No disrespect to Wikipedia, but anybody can write anything on there and I do find it misleading at times. Various 1980s magazine and newspaper articles reproduced on this blog show that Emmerdale Farm was rating well and very much "in the public eye" long before the plane crash storyline of late 1993.

To answer your question, I loved Emmerdale Farm as a kid in the '70s, but soaps evolve, and for me the most enjoyable era was 1980 to 1987 - with the arrival of the Merricks, Alan Turner and Mrs Bates, Archie Brooks and Eric Pollard, and Seth Armstrong settling down as a fully fledged regular character. The 1980s were also the golden era of Amos and Mr Wilks.

I have started another Emmerdale Farm blog covering 1972-1979, but my main interest in the show remains with the 1980s

Uttered In The '80s Part Two...

"I'm that hungry I'd eat the oven door if it were buttered!" -

Amos Brearly, 1986.

All Next Month...

Please click on image for details...

1989: The Death Of Jackie Merrick

Advertised on TV in 1989 - Ian Sharrock as Jackie Merrick was featured on the cover of the last of the original "Emmerdale Farm" novels, "Wives And Lovers", by James Ferguson.

The arrival of the Merrick family in Beckindale in 1980 had me becoming a confirmed fan of Emmerdale Farm. I'd liked the show since I was little, but there had been no permanent characters I could really identify with at peer group level. Jackie and Sandie Merrick were very much youngsters of the era, having experienced childhood in the miserable, militant and increasingly cynical '70s, they were now experiencing teenagehood in what seemed set to be another grim decade.

Okay, sometimes they listened to Shakin' Stevens and wore "fogey" clothes that your average early '80s youngster would not have been seen dead in (the Emmerdale Farm wardrobe department had never been hip and funky) but that aside they were mixed up enough and stroppy enough to have fitted in with me and my pals. They seemed pretty real.

The Merrick family had originally appeared in the show during its first season in 1972, but at that time Jackie and Sandie were small children. Both child and adult members of the family were portrayed by different actors and actresses. Tom Merrick was portrayed by David Hill, Edward Peel and Jack Carr during his occasional appearances in the '70s and '80s. In 1980, Helen Weir, Ian Sharrock and Jane Hutcheson made the roles of Pat, Jackie and Sandie their own. There were other changes: in season one, Pat's Christian name had been Ruth and she had been the mother of three children.

Jackie, as we know, was the (at first secret) son of Jack Sugden. He matured, settled down to farming, married young Kathy Bates and then, in 1989, was suddenly killed off.

His mother, Pat, had already been killed off in a car crash storyline in 1986, and sister Sandie and step father Tom (who, although only an occasional visitor, had made a lot of waves) had left the scene. So Emmerdale Farm, which had been full to the brim of Merrick storylines from 1980 to 1989 was suddenly almost Merrickless. Only Jackie's widow, Kathy, retained the name. But not for long.

Jackie was killed whilst out hunting a troublesome fox. He had a £10 bet with Pete Whiteley that he could kill the fox, which was causing problems around Home Farm. Unfortunately, Jackie's shotgun trigger snagged as he left his vehicle to pursue the fox, and the gun went off...

The story of Jackie's sudden end was played absolutely "straight", but there was a hint of 1980s tongue-in-cheekness about one of the songs playing on the car radio as the poor lad lay either dying or dead: What Have I Done To Deserve This? by the Pet Shop Boys and Dusty Springfield!

The car battery ran down, the headlights and the music faded, and that was that.

Seth Armstrong found his young friend's body and took the news to Emmerdale Farm. Joe Sugden went to Demdyke Row to break the news to young Kathy that she was now a widow.

"What have I done to deserve this?"

Above The Scenes...

Not behind the scenes but above with this view of the Emmerdale Farm kitchen set from 1985. Jackie Merrick (Ian Sharrock) has brought girlfriend Sita Sharma (Mamta Kash) to see the family. Seated at the table are Jack and Pat Sugden (Clive Hornby and Helen Weir) and Sandie Merrick (Jane Hutcheson). On the sofa by the fire are Annie Sugden (Sheila Mercier) and Henry Wilks (Arthur Pentelow).

The Great Emmerdale Farm Merchandise Explosion...

From "The Hotten Courier", Yorkshire Television publicity material for "Emmerdale Farm", summer 1988. No such offers were featured in the September 1984 edition of the publication. The times were certainly changing...

In the early-to-mid 1980s, Emmerdale Farm fans could look forward to buying the continuing series of novels, some cheese and knitting wool, and an occasional magazine. But by the late 1980s, after the advent of EastEnders and Neighbours, it was evident that soap sold and that realisation was not lost on Yorkshire Television.

So, would it be a Seth Armstrong badge or fridge magnet? How about a shopping bag? A bookmark? A mug? A tea towel - or even a walking stick badge?

The choice was yours...

The Woolpack T-shirt was actually featured in the series - a gimmick adopted by Amos Brearly to pep up trade in the continuing war with The Malt Shovel.

1985: Kathy And Nick Bates Arrive...

Having secured his secretary, Mrs Bates, accommodation in Beckindale after the break-up of her marriage to Malcolm, Alan Turner was delighted to accept an invitation to dinner from her. He arrived punctually, all spruced up and clutching a magnificent bouquet, with hopes for the evening which went way beyond the planned menu of his hostess...

So, imagine his shock and dismay when Mrs Bates' door was answered by two youngsters, who introduced themselves as Kathy and Nick and explained that Mum was still upstairs, but that they had been instructed to make him welcome.

Having envisaged an evening alone with Mrs Bates, and having had no idea that her children were living with her, Alan was terribly disappointed. Faintly stroppy and terribly crestfallen, he thrust the bouquet at Kathy - "These are for your mother!"

This was the first appearance in Emmerdale Farm of Cy Chadwick as Nick and Malandra Burrows as Kathy.