You should never underestimate the power of local radio. Before I head into work and am just driving the local roads close to my home, I always listen to Mix 107. I had been feeling down the night before, for various reasons, none which need to see the light of day, on here. Yet, Thursday morning, bought with it a sense of reality home to me, in the form of a song. The presenter, in his cute, calm voice for the Breakfast Show, announced that music from Phil Collins would air next, after these messages. I was expected something completely different, but instead the disc jockey had selected the cover of the Supreme’s classic from September 1966. Reaching number three in the UK charts, I am not sure if the Motown trio had been renamed as Diana Ross & The Supreme’s. Collin’s version, was more successful topping the UK charts in December 1982. Not sure why, because the original usual does always fare better. Maybe it was the video, which featured Phil playing the role of all members of his ‘imaginary’ band. The song was just what the doctor ordered. After several shocks, surprises during the week, I was slowly coming around to the realisation that life is actually, beyond the surface working out. While having my breakfast, yesterday morning, I had been thinking of the ideal song to reflect my mood and more importantly circumstances. In the end I opted for Waiting For Her by a-ha from their 1991 album, East of the Sun, West of the Moon. Fans of Keane, will like this track, so take a listen and don’t be fooled into judging a song by the introduction.

I have been a fan of Eastenders for the past few years and have converted my parents into regular viewers too. (My Mum particularly enjoys the twists, the turns and strange stance on the real world). Trying to put together a history of my viewing of the BBC soap is difficult. My life affair with soaps did not really start until quite a late age, around sixteen, but if I ever missed an episode it was not a major issue. Tending to dip in and out at my leisure, simply there were more important things going on in my life. Towards the middle of college, I caught the bug and started watching religiously with die hard conviction. My routine worked around the scheduling so, I rarely missed an installment and if need be always had the solace of the Sunday afternoon omnibus. This was the days before BBC Three. Then in mid September 2000, I started University and my lifestyle changed beyond recognition. Having taken the decision to bring my television with me to halls, it was something I soon regretted and within a few weeks, it was taken back home. I neither had the space for it or the inclination to move around all the furniture to watch a few hours of tedious television in the evening, to then find myself boxed into my bed in the morning. Thankfully, my flat mates both had televisions so I would catch the odd episode, which over time become more regular viewing. Then the habit started again, and the craving stuck. So now, I have become a regularly watcher of the show. When people ask me what I watch on television, I surprise many by saying something as follows: Eastenders religiously, football and a bit of news come current affairs.

The lengths to which, I will go to watch my beloved soap opera? During my placement, I was involved in presenting an evening seminar at a local agriculture centre and park. The talks went on past 8pm, meaning I had already missed the first broadcast from Walford. My colleagues then insisted I remained for food, so I tried to limit myself to modest portions from the buffet. Sitting on my own, while I ate, I kept my distance from the heated discussion taking place at the other end of the foyer. Then, I was invited across to the table of one of the lawyers and decided that after the idle chitchat, to make my exit, it was drawing close to 9pm. The sun was setting, in the distance and I knew I needed a miracle to get home for 10pm. The journey was just over 60 miles and would take me over an hour, even with the most favourable of traffic conditions. Taking into account that this journey takes into the M1, M25 and then M40, all busy motorways, regardless of the time of day or night. This was a mission, and would I make the challenge and meet my strict deadline. I drove like a man obsessed listening to dance music. (Although I cannot confirm this, until I retrieve the exact date of the even t from my placement archive CD) The average speed must have been 90 mph, dedicated to the fast lane, all the way to the M25 junction. Here, I just continued my erratic speed, towards to my home county of Buckinghamshire. Facing a dilemma, I needed to make a choice, do I take the exit at Junction 18, taking the A404, through Amersham and down into High Wycombe, added valuable time to my journey, but save myself from getting stuck in a major traffic jam, further down on the M25 or even M40. Looking at the time, I knew I did not have the beauty to make that choice, so instead I battled on with the motorway route. Hoping that once I reached the homeward bound stretch of my journey, the traffic would be lighter, and have the comfort of a fourth lane. To cut this story short, before I lose yet another reader (just as Eastenders have been losing viewers, recently.) I broke numerous traffic violations in order to reach my destination, in time to catch the first repeat of Eastenders. Although, if I had been stopped by a member of the Thames Valley Police traffic section, my excuse would not have washed. Look, I was busy on Sunday and would not be able to catch up on the final chase to catch the week’s action from Albert Square. I hope someone from the Beeb reads this and sees the level of devotion to a soap, which the rest of the country have given up on. Although I doubt they would condone my breach of speed limits. This swiftly brings us onto tonight’s episode of Eastenders. It had been built up gradually over the week, with trails including Zoe Slater, Sam Mitchell and then Chrissy Watts (shown individually and then “combined”). Looking forward to the event so much, I forgot completely about it until I got into the car to drive home this evening. It has been a long week, believe me. High expectations are difficult to manage, but I avoid (as I have stayed throughout my blog) any insight into the future of soaps. I just do not want to know what happens, tomorrow next week or next Easter. It was impossible not to know the outcome of tonight’s episode, but the way in which the final blow would be delivered (and by whom) was more important that the crime itself. Overall a highly entertaining episode, worthy of the extra thirty minutes of airtime. The comic elements bought strange relief to the impending doom, to one (or is that two) characters? Just check out Ian Beale racking up some serious air guitar in the Queen Vic public house. Then there was the drunken, student antics of Mark Flower, as he bared (almost all) in front of his shocked mother Pauline. Fantastic. There was also subtle hints, which only the more in tune of you would have noted. As Andy Hunter and his ‘lerch’ Ed headed on the motorway in the Mercedes, the song playing on the radio was Chris Rea – Road to Hell. Diamond Geezer has been running his own personal tribute as a real Eastender. Someone over at the Guardian, appears to agree with me. 🙂 Many of the scenes, with the three women scorned, showed them almost like the three witches from Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Note the use of the fire, in place of a cauldron. Friday night episodes have always tended to be light hearded but the suspence of how Dennis would be taken out was too much, even for me. To survive once was an act of God, but no one beats death twice (or do they?) The idea of a contract killer, coming along did seem far fetched even for East End London, yet the mafia inspired showmanship, is still event to this day. Although, a stroke of genius to take out another hated villian, in such a geniune way. Just as Johnny Allen said, “I must really have a converstation with that man.” Conversation over. Now the cover up begins.