Posts Tagged ‘Summer Wine’

6.5 One of the Last Few Places Unexplored By Man

In which Compo gets trapped in the closet…

ANDREW: Another whimsical hillside opening for this episode. There are some great lines here, including Foggy responding to Compo’s ferret story with ‘You’ve led a really useful life, haven’t you?’ I promise to say that at your funeral, Bob.

BOB: You’ll never outlive me, not with your insane, adrenaline-fuelled high-octane lifestyle. Do you know what? If someone clipped together four or five of these opening philosophical segments of the show to make a full episode, it’d probably be one of my favourites of the whole run. 

Clegg: The concept of a hole in space confuses me enormously. But so did the instructions on the electric blanket, and that works. So I suppose God knows what he’s doing.

Compo: Electric blanket? You great Jessie. Why don’t you put a warm brick in it like everybody else…

You youngsters may laugh, but when I was growing up in the 1970s, it wasn’t uncommon to find older neighbours and relatives who still kept a ‘warming pan’ by the fire… essentially a large brass pan to be filled with hot coals from the fire before being slipped between the sheets an hour or so before you went to bed. Taking extra care not to set your bedspread on fire. Brace yourself, but like many houses in the UK we didn’t have central heating in our house until the late 1970s. My first memories of getting ready for school are of putting my clothes on in front of a flickering coal fire while looking at the ice on the inside of the front room windows. Winter 1977. Read it and weep, you children of the Combi Boiler.

ANDREW: And I thought we had it rough not having cable television until I was ten.

I still haven’t gotten used to the new-look Café yet, even though it’s now the version I grew up with! I love this extended sequence, however. First up, we get some choice Sid and Ivy conversation, with lots of bickering about relatives and Sid’s lack of get-up-and-go. ‘Another hectic day in the struggle for existence?’ she asks as he innocently reads his paper. As if this wasn’t enough, in walks Wally Batty! This scene actually reminds me of a stage play; it’s long, confined to a small set and characters drift in and out throughout its runtime. Lovely blocking.

BOB: That exchange is great. There’s something about Northern dialogue that really lends itself to bathos. It’s a tactic that never fails to make me laugh, and Roy Clarke uses it as the basis for many a great Sid and Ivy exchange. You missed off the killer second line, though!


Ivy: Another hectic day in the struggle for existence.

Sid: If you’re on about the dustbins, I’ve already seen to ‘em.


I’m baffled by Compo’s clear depiction of Nora Batty’s bedroom as mysterious, uncharted territory, though. Wasn’t he in her bedroom in the first episode of this very series, rescuing Nora from being trapped beneath the bed? Oh, well. It’s a good job we’re not like those weird Doctor Who fans, Drew, otherwise we could drive ourselves mad worrying about pointless continuity like this. Ahem hem.

kathy-staff

ANDREW: Just wait until we reach First of the Summer Wine

Another name for the database – Chunky Wrigglesworth. A boy who used to very carelessly grab great handfuls of Foggy’s trousers, and who was famous for sitting on people at playtime. We even learn that he had to get married and is now a dentist is Macclesfield. I think he might be the most fleshed out unseen character thus far!

BOB: A bit of a milestone here as well, I think… Sid actually joins in with the schooldays nostalgia! Is this the first time he’s done this? Anyone? I’d actually assumed until now that Sid was an outsider from another town, as I can’t recall him ever previously joining in with any of the reminiscing that our main trio frequently indulge in. I thought it was only his marriage to Ivy that had brought him to Holmfirth! Is he a local lad after all?

And I love how Foggy insists on calling Ivy ‘madam’, despite the fact that they’ve known each other for decades! Does he do the same to Nora, too? I think he does… it’s a lovely character touch, symptomatic of Foggy’s deep-seated fear of women, and his desire to keep them at a formal arms length. A veneer of gentlemanly respect masking a morbid terror of the female world. Although, oddly, Foggy is the one member of the trio that we’ve actually seen indulging in romantic liasons during our adventures.

ANDREW: Compo has tarted himself up to have a photo taken, but he doesn’t want it taken in his ‘disgraceful’ abode. Instead he intends to pose next door inside Nora Batty’s house.  He is, of course, turned away. Although he’s been shooed off before, there’s something particular about the way in which this scene is written, shot and played that will set up a long recurring gag for many episodes to come; Compo turns up at Nora’s door only to be chased down her steps by the end of her broom. I must have seen a hundred variations upon this as a kid and never got tired of it.

BOB: No wonder Compo is embarrassed by his house, it’s in a worse state than ever! In the early series it was just a bit scruffy and untidy, now it looks… well, it looks like Mr Trebus’ house. There’s stuff piled up everywhere. Up yer chuff!

Trebus
And then ‘By ‘eck, she’s like Margaret Lockwood…’ he gurns, kindling his sordid Nora Batty fantasies once again. Erm, she’s really not…

I really admire Roy Clarke’s unapologetic use of cultural references entirely in keeping with his characters’ backgrounds. I’m not sure Margaret Lockwood would have meant a great deal to huge swathes of Summer Wine’s family audience in 1982, but Compo would have worshipped Lockwood during her cinema heyday in the 1940s, and his dropping of her name here as the epitome of female perfection is absolutely consistent with his character. I see a lot of current TV comedy where elderly characters are given lines that are completely inappropriate for their age… and sure, it gets a laugh, but I always end up thinking ‘No! 70-year-old men DON’T talk like that’. I suspect a lot of comedy writers think of funny lines first, before assigning them to their characters without worrying too much about the consistency of the whole thing. Clarke lets the lines flow naturally from his very well-defined characters, and it lends the dialogue a much more satisfying air of authenticity.

My laugh-out-loud moment of the episode…

Compo: Are you telling me she doesn’t set your pulses racing?

Clegg: Only for cover.

ANDREW: At Compo’s house, it is explained that the randy little Herbert doesn’t just want his photo taken in Nora’s house, but in Nora’s bedroom; the titular place unexplored by man. Compo really is a little boy in his attitudes to carnal pursuits. Describing being chased off by Nora as ‘sexual foreplay’, he goes on to flap his arms and quack his way around the room in some bizarre mating dance.

Foggy is just as childish, unable to accept responsibility for any mistake he makes during the episode. Earlier, he accidentally hit a woman in the bottom with his walking stick. Instead of apologising he blames wasps and as a result is labelled a ‘sex maniac’. Now, he refuses to accept responsibility for dropping Compo’s camera, making up an earth tremor to excuse his butterfingers.

BOB: Wilde is magnificent in this series. I can’t praise him highly enough. Foggy is a ridiculous character, but Wilde makes him totally believable and – amazingly – sympathetic. He’s one of the truly great sitcom characters, and doesn’t get recognized as such nearly often enough for my liking. 

ANDREW: Again our slapstick climax comes about as a natural extension of the plot; which is nice. Returning from an auction, Wally needs a hand carrying his new purchase – a wardrobe for Nora’s bedroom. Seizing the opportunity with glee, Compo concocts a Trojan Horse-inspired plan to secure entry to the room of his dreams. I particularly like the fact that we get another glimpse of Foggy’s maniacal streak during these scenes. He takes great joy in locking Compo up in a dark, confined space and is quick to abandon his friend and nip off to the pub. This is his revenge for getting involved with a scheme that he hasn’t concocted himself!

BOB: Yes, Foggy’s on great vindictive form here. ‘Just lie there and make a noise like a coathanger’, he says, gleefully shutting Compo into the wardrobe. And again, bringing back memories of my dad’s absurdist sense of humour. Long before this episode aired, I had a rather vicious pet rabbit, and I distinctly remember my dad solemnly telling me ‘whatever you do, don’t make a noise like a carrot’. Was ‘don’t make a noise like a… (insert entirely silent object)’ a running joke for men of their generation? It wouldn’t surprise me if this stemmed from wartime (or, at least, forces) banter somewhere along the line.

‘There’s something very satisfying about locking him in a dark, confined space’ made me laugh as well. Brian Wilde’s impeccable delivery goes a long way – a perfect combination of haughty disdain with just a hint of affection.


Clegg: Do you think he can breathe?

Foggy: I don’t doubt it for a minute, he’ll do anything to spite me.


Oh, I could listen to this all day.

ANDREW: I like to think that Stuart Fell was locked inside that wardrobe for the sake of realism.

BOB: A great episode I think, with some of the strongest, funniest dialogue we’ve had for a while. My only disappointment is the clear suggestion that Nora and Wally don’t actually share a marital bed! I want them sitting up in bed together, like Joe and Petunia from the Public Information Films. They’re the prototype Wally and Nora, you know. Oh yes they are. Oh yes indeed. Oh yes.

ANDREW: Yeah, another cracking episode. It isn’t difficult to see why the series was going over gangbusters during this period.

BOB: Eh? Oh, you young people and your funny new words. You’re WEIRD. You hear me? WEIRD (fetches brush)

6.2 Car and Garter

In which Compo feels the need for speed…

BOB: Can I admit to a little tingle of excitement every time we reach the debut episode of a regular character?

ANDREW: Please do! We’d best enjoy the experience before saying goodbye to people becomes a more common occurrence.

BOB: Oof, you morbid soul. But ladies and gentlemen, it’s Wesley Pegden! As soon as I saw smoke billowing from beneath a garage door, and the sound of a muffled explosion, I knew exactly who we were going to meet.

There’s a classic opening line to this episode as well: “How do you get marmalade off a ferret?” asks Compo. It’s one of life’s eternal mysteries, isn’t it? Also, an exchange that I remember heartily laughing at back in 1982, and my dad doing likewise…

           COMPO: When you straighten up, why doesn’t the blood rush straight to your feet?

           FOGGY: You don’t think anything’s going to be in a rush to get to your feet…

Brian Wilde’s delivery is a perfect mix of warmth, self-satisfaction and disdain. And I cannot help but feel hugely sentimental whenever I hear a line in anything that made my dad and I laugh together. I know them all when I hear them… in Fawlty Towers, Monty Python, Porridge, you name it… as soon as I hear that line – even if it’s for the first time in thirty years – I’m transported back to the front room, and a little routine we would play out: if we both laughed simultaneously at the same thing, then immediately afterwards we’d exchange a fleeting look of mutual appreciation across the room. It was completely involuntary, and my mum found it fascinating. But I’ve always shared a sense of humour with my dad, and we absolutely bonded over TV comedy. And he had fabulously progressive tastes… I know plenty of my contemporaries who were banned from watching The Young Ones when they were kids, but I was introduced to it by my dad. He loved it, and we watched it together… along with all of the edgiest 80s TV comedy you could think of. One of the highlights of my early teenage years was staying up late on a Friday night and watching the likes of Who Dares Wins on Channel 4 with him. Thanks, Dad.

And I’ve just realized that the above paragraph makes it sound like my dad is dead! He’s not everyone, he’s fine. Cancel the flowers.

ANDREW: Good to hear, I’m always on the lookout for a guest reviewer…

BOB: I love Gordon Wharmby in Summer Wine, although has he been surrounded by a bit of urban mythologizing over the years? I’m sure I remember reading somewhere that he was a local amateur dramatics enthusiast without a previous professional acting credit, but that does him a bit of a disservice. True, he wasn’t a trained thespian and combined part-time acting with a day job as a painter and decorator, but he had been part of Oldham Repertory Theatre, and had also done small parts in Coronation Street, amongst others.

What I didn’t realise was that he’d actually auditioned to play the angry man on the roof at the end of the previous episode, In The Service Of Humanity! It’s a one-line part (“Hey, bring back that ladder!”), but he impressed Roy Clarke and Alan JW Bell so much that they asked him to read for Wesley in Car and Garter. Bell, apparently, found him “absolutely real”, and the part was his. However, Wesley was – I’ve read – previously earmarked as a guest role for a well-known TV actor! Anyone know who that might be? This could be Summer Wine’s April Walker moment!

ANDREW: I wonder if, as they were casting this part, Clarke and Bell were specifically looking for a Fred Dibnah type. The Bolton-born steeplejack first rose to fame in 1978 and, although it never struck me until now, Wesley’s likeness to the man is striking.

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A brief detour to the café sees Sid being harassed by Ivy. Has the phrase, “In the kitchen” ever been spoken with such menace? What really struck me about the scene, however, is the smattering of applause it receives at the end. This is unusual in Summer Wine land and, although I’m not trying to be critical, I don’t understand what the scene did to elicit such a reaction. It’s not a standout. Perhaps scenes routinely received this sort of reaction and, under newcomer Alan Bell, a tiny snippet accidentally made it through to the final edit.

BOB: There’s a staggering scene in Clegg’s house that actually made me rewind the DVD to double check that I’d heard it correctly. They’re talking about Sid, and Foggy – rather amazingly – delivers the opinion that (brace yourself) “Ivy seems him as something of a big dick”.

Whhhhhhhhat?!?!? It’s not even a one-off. “There are far too many boring, serious beggars about,” muses Clegg, immediately afterwards. “We need all the big daft dicks we can get”.

Am I being incredibly prudish here? It’s hilarious, but I always thought ‘dick’ was up there with ‘cock’ and ‘prick’ as an insult I wouldn’t have expected to hear in Summer Wine! Certainly not in this later era, anyway. The reaction from the studio audience suggests that they’re a bit taken aback as well!

ANDREW: Well, according to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the genital connotation in the word is attested in an 1891 dictionary of Farmer’s Slang. Then there is the idiom “Clever Dick”, which has been used as recently as a 2012 game show C4 hosted by Anne Widdicome entitled Cleverdicks. I realise that none of this answers your question, but it’s nice to make the effort sometimes.

BOB: I still think this is filth, and should be banned. Neverthless we get to the crux of the episode… Wesley is building what he sees as the ultimate high-performance car, and needs a test-driver, and our heroes volunteer Sid for the job, believing it will increase his standing in Ivy’s eyes. Interesting to see that, in these early stages, Wesley clearly isn’t taken with Compo’s sense of humour – there’s a real prickliness to their exchanges.

ANDREW: And then we encounter another odd audience response. Bell cuts to a close-up of Foggy and the audience roars with laughter. It isn’t until a few seconds later that we cut to a wide shot which reveals Sid in his ridiculous racing gear. Usually, during this kind of sitcom gag, the set and performers are shielded from the audience. They only see the action play out on monitors, just like viewers at home. I’m convinced these moments have something to do with a change in production techniques, maybe the studio floor layout had been modified.

BOB: I didn’t notice any of this! It’s all real to me, guv. What is this ‘studio floor’ of which you speak? Ivy, meanwhile, is having none of Sid’s daredevil exploits and forbids him to take part (as well as taking a little sideswipe at his implied proclivities – “Don’t be making a fool of yourself if that bus conductress comes in, and don’t have her poking my sandwiches with her bell finger!”) and so – predictably enough – Compo is roped in to drive Wesley’s cobbled-together sports car.

ANDREW: It’s a cliché, but women really are unpredictable sometimes. Just the other week, Emma was upset with me. By way of apology, I baked her a loaf of break in the shape of, erm… a big dick. While I was baking, this seemed like the greatest idea in the world, but it didn’t go down well… so to speak. What I’m trying to say is I sympathise with Sid!

BOB: Bake one for me. We’ll eat it together while we watch Getting Sam Home. I’ll look after you, my angel. 

ADDREW: As for the Bus Conductress, I like to think she’s the same feisty character we saw during series two’s ‘Forked Lightning’. I seem to recall you took a shine to her.

BOB: I can’t remember her! I’m such a fickle fool. There’s a bizarre twist here… Nora is actually impressed! And, not only that, she wears the garter that Compo gives her to keep her wrinkled stockings up. And proudly gives him a tantalizing glimpse of it! I’m not sure how I feel about this, actually… it’s very funny, but would Nora actually do that? Although I can also see the argument that we need to see a certain affection reciprocated between them, otherwise you’re just left wondering why she doesn’t just call the police on him every week.

ANDREW: Like I said, unpredictable.

BOB: I also wonder if this the episode that really kick-started the whole ‘wrinkled stockings’ phenomenon. I know they’d been mentioned in the series before now, but Compo’s hatred of them is major plot point of this episode. And it was around this time that wrinkled stockings became one of the major cultural identifiers of Last of the Summer Wine… you certainly wouldn’t read an article about the show (or about Kathy Staff herself) without them being mentioned, and I think that might have stemmed from this very episode.

ANDREW: Yep. This will become one of the series’ most celebrated running gags and eventually leads to this oddity…

I’d love to know who plays the onlookers in this episode. They’re a small crowd and they don’t look like actors. I wonder whether they were locals, crewmembers, relatives of crewmembers… anybody know?

BOB: What strikes me most about this episode is that Alan Bell was spot on with regards to Gordon Wharmby – he is indeed “absolutely real”. It’s a fine performance, and a great encapsulation of that breed of middle-aged Northern men who spend all of their spare time in overalls beneath a car and need a garage (or a shed, or just some private space to retreat to, unencumbered by female tutting and clucking) to retreat to. I see a lot of my Dad in Wesley.

ANDREW: Actually, what impressed me most about this one was the direction. I know I’ve harped on about a couple of production oddities, but the film sequences really sparkle in this episode. Bell’s signature landscape shots perfectly puncture the studio bound and character based stuff and one sequence, where Ivy returns to the café only to flee upon seeing Sid in his racing get-up is really dynamic. Just look at some of these shots.

Picture 12

Picture 14

All in all, good stuff.

6.1 In The Service of Humanity


In which Foggy becomes an emergency service…   


BOB: Can I chuck in a personal milestone at this point? This is, undoubtedly, the first series of Last of the Summer Wine that I actually watched as it went out. We’re into January 1982 here, Monday nights, and I was nine years old. And the show was already a talking point amongst me and my classmates. Juliette Kaplan (Namedrop! KLANNG!!!) told us that Summer Wine was always beloved of young kids, and in the case of me and my friends, she’s absolutely right. We’d quote it at school on Tuesday mornings, and act out some of the stunts in the playground at dinner break. It’s hard to imagine any modern nine-year-olds finding such common cultural ground in a mainstream sitcom in which the main characters are all over sixty, but – in January 1982 – we had three TV channels and barely a video recorder or a games console between us, so this was the stuff that bound us together.

ANDREW: My experience couldn’t be more different. By the time I tuned in, the show was a family experience, but never ever brought up amongst my peers. Secretly, my skateboard might be a runaway sofa hurtling down a hill in Yorkshire, but this was never a shared fantasy. My friends just weren’t watching. It’s certainly brought me together with people in later life, though.

BOB: Watching this, I’m also a bit taken aback at how much of the language entered my everyday life! “Bog off” became a regular insult around my house in 1982, me and my Dad in particular would regularly fling at back and forth at each other. And undoubtedly Compo is to blame!

ANDREW: Compo is on good form here. “My brain gets confused sometimes,” is a particularly delightful instance of the character getting to a nonsensical thought decades before Karl Pilkington would.  I also love the discussion of his mother, apparently the kind of woman who could have inspired the inventor of the bulldozer. If Foggy’s memory of her throwing the rent man at him isn’t incorporated into First of the Summer Wine, I’ll be sorely disappointed.

BOB: So our trio find a pile of abandoned clothes at the side of the river, and assume – rather grimly – that they’ve stumbled upon a suicide.

ANDREW: Has walking into water ever been a particularly popular method of suicide? You see it crop up in stuff like The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin and even The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. It’s a TV staple.

BOB: It’s been a very famous method of fake suicide!

ANDREW: I love how Clegg questions there being a dead body in the water, suggesting instead that the man might not be quite dead yet. How morbid!

BOB: It’s interesting to see Foggy actually intimidating Compo into respectfully removing his hat – and Compo does it! Do we think, deep down, Compo is actually a tiny bit scared of Foggy? Or at least has a lot of respect for him? It might explain why, when it comes down to it, Compo never actually refuses to take part in any of Foggy’s harebrained schemes, no matter how dangerous they might look.

ANDREW: I didn’t pick up on that, but that may be because I’m distracted by what I think must be post-production dialogue looping. There’s a strange air of detachment to a lot of the delivery here and given how much the wind seems to be disturbing the reeds and bushes it surprises me that we don’t hear so much as a rustle. I bet it turns out I’m wrong.

BOB: It’s not a suicide, of course, it’s a canoeist out for a paddle… and… hang on, is that an uncredited Tom Owen?! Or am I going mad? I’m really not sure!

ANDREW: It does look like him! Wikipedia makes reference to a cameo appearance by a Tony Good, but I’ve no idea who this is. His character isn’t listed on IMDB and he doesn’t appear to have any other credits to his name. Answers on a postcard…

BOB: I really like the scene in Clegg’s house here… it has a very comforting domesticity, with Clegg ironing while Foggy and Compo chat amiably. It’s a lovely cosy scene, reiterating the fact that – for all their differences – these are three characters very comfortable in each others’ company. Foggy, inspired by the canoeing incident, wants to form a small-scale rescue service for “decent, little people”. It’s an idea they pursue in the café, where Compo suddenly appears to have started smoking again! How long is it since we last saw a cigarette in Summer Wine?

ANDREW: That did strike me as odd, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to go back and check every episode again!

This is a great, character-driven plotline and actually quite touching, really. Foggy’s desire to, “answer the call whenever it comes” is what drives him from one episode to the next. This week he’s a medic, the next he’ll walk dogs. The activity does’t matter, so long as he’s doing something for somebody. My heart broke when he reflected upon finding the clothes by the river and said, “I felt useful. Just for once we were doing something important. Helpful.”

This is all perfectly in-keeping with the theme of the series as a whole; our trio, albeit sometimes reluctantly, are on a quest to find a something useful to do with the rest of their time on earth. A purpose.

BOB: I like Clegg’s line here… “If it’s all the same to you, I had planned to fritter my life away harmlessly”. It’s a sentiment I’m happy to share. How many series have we got left to watch, Drew?

ANDREW: Enough, Bob, enough. In this case, however, I’m siding with Foggy. Despite their protestations, it’s nice to see Compo and Clegg indulge Foggy a little. We’re a far cry from the nastiness of Full Steam Behind.

BOB: Lovely bit of physical comedy here, as Foggy – in his new home-made Red Cross tabard – attempts to interfere with the aftermath of a minor car accident and gets a full-blooded punch on the nose for his troubles. It’s filmed in long shot, with a perfectly-timed “Oof!” from Brian Wilde, and it made me laugh out loud. I’m a simple soul at heart.

ANDREW: Laugh out loud? I winced! There’s something about the sound effect which accompanies the whack that made it sound particularly painful and mean-spirited. He’s a truly tragic figure in this episode. Every time he tries to help, he gets trodden on. Poor Foggy!

Still, this abuse serves to bring out Ivy’s motherly side in the café. A particularly northern maternal instinct has kicked in, so she’s happy to fuss over his wounds but quick to remind him what a daft sod he is.

BOB: Foggy’s nose, Compo suggests, has gone from “early George Sanders” to “more like Colonel Sanders”. This seemed like a staggeringly early KFC reference to me, but apparently the UK’s first Kentucky Fried Chicken takeaway opened in Preston in 1965! I’m pretty sure that, by 1982, they were yet to reach Middlesbrough. I actually remember being confused by a Kenny Everett sketch about McDonalds around this time, because I had no idea what McDonalds actually was! Maybe I just had a sheltered upbringing. It was all fishcakes and arctic roll in our house.

ANDREW: And then we’re off to the football for a territorial skuffle with some St John’s Ambulance volunteers. Go on, then. Which ground is this?

BOB: Painted blue, so I’m assuming this must be Leeds Road, Huddersfield Town’s original ground? Filled with glorious slices of football history… Denis Law began his career at Leeds Road, England 1966 hero Ray Wilson spent twelve years here, and England manager Herbert Chapman was in charge in the 1920s. Seeing it here, I can just imagine those rosy-cheeked fans, wrapped in blue and white hats, rattling rattles, chanting chants, paying a handful of pennies to while away a freezing Saturday afternoon on a packed terrace. Lovely.

The ground was built in 1908, and demolished in 1994 to make way for a retail park with a big B&Q. Don’t get me started, Drew. Really. Don’t get me started.

ANDREW: It’s probably best you get it out of your system in a safe environment like this.

BOB: You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. I’m not convinced you like me when I’m not angry. And so we head towards the end with a very welcome glimpse of my hero, Wally Batty, in fine form in the local pub.

ANDREW: I’m at the stage now where the simple appearance of Wally is enough to elicit an audible cheer!

BOB: Should we add Compo’s Auntie Connie to the Names Database, Drew? Mentioned by Wally as a woman who owns a canary, and “gets the gas board out every time it falls asleep”. I laughed out loud at this as well. A good episode for belly laughs, this one!

ANDREW: It’s nice to see a glimpse of Wally’s evil streak. Nora is stuck under the bed at home (“Just luck I suppose” – Wally) and he uses her demands for help as an excuse for a pint. “It’s turning out to be a really magical Tuesday!” he proclaims.

BOB: Foggy’s rescue service is finally pressed into unlikely action!

ANDREW: Oddly, I seem to recall that the scene in which Nora is rescued from beneath her bed as being one of the scenes played in a constant loop when news of Kathy Staff’s death broke on News 24. I suppose it’s a testament to her vocal characterization that they’d choose a clip in which she spends the majority of the time bellowing out of sight!

Rescue accomplished, Foggy gets a second wind and re-embarks upon his plan to provide rescue equipment for the canalside.

BOB: The trio end up “appropriating” a long ladder to exercise a little drill at the water’s edge. Which ends, predictably enough, with Clegg and Foggy in the water and a stranded roof-repairer unable to get down. Good stuff though, and a really enjoyable start to the new series. 

ANDREW: It’s nice to see a slapstick climax that’s relatively grounded and integrated into the story (i.e. no giant pigeons in sight). In fact two slapstick climaxes for the price of one! It’s part of the story though, so I can forgive it’s gratuitousness.

1979 Christmas Special: And A Dewhurst Up A Fir Tree

In which Foggy eyes up a festive investment…

BOB: Can we finally draw the conclusion that Roy Clarke’s not a fan of the festive period? Another Summer Wine Christmas special, and yet again it’s given a twist so that it’s not as Christmassy as we might expect. It’s set in late summer, with Foggy wanting to meticulously plan ahead for the forthcoming festivities! I can just imagine Clarke sitting down at his desk to write this on a sunny day in April, with steam flying out of his ears. ‘Christmas special? I’ll give them a Christmas special alright…’

ANDREW: Foggy claims that they are experiencing a pleasant day – the perfect kind of day for a well trained sniper, in fact – but I’d say this is one of the dullest, most under-exposed and grotty looking film inserts seen on the show so far. It’s meant to be set in late summer, but ironically could just about have passed for December had Clarke written a more traditional special.

BOB: Still, nice to see a bit of genuine plaggy-bag sledging! An essential part of any impoverished 1970s childhood. Or, indeed, second childhood. With ICI logos on the bags for added effect.

ANDREW: Then it’s off to Foggy’s house for a slideshow of last year’s washout of a Christmas. Actually, have we seen Foggy’s house before? I’m sure he was in a boarding house or something the last time his living arrangements came up. Foggy’s slides reveal the extent of our trio’s bad festive planning, including a Christmas tree fashioned from a bit of old privet and a dinner that consisted of one fish finger and a chip. This is all attributed to Compo’s desire to do all their shopping on Christmas Eve.

As a side note, I really love seeing slideshows or home movies in sitcoms. They give the impression that the characters exist outside of the half hour periods of time we spend in their company.

BOB: And so – our trio traipse around Holmfirth in August, desperately seeking Christmas cards and festive sweets. To no avail, obviously.

ANDREW: It’s strange to find a Summer Wine environment of this period that hasn’t really changed much. Card shops are still as cheap and cheerful as ever and the alternatively saccharine and cheeky designs of the cards themselves don’t appear to have evolved over the intervening decades.

It’s also quite refreshing to have a sitcom that revolves around characters fretting over the fact that Christmas hasn’t started early enough rather than that now hoary old cliché about it arriving earlier every year.

BOB: Nice to see that the café is grubby again! Sid’s walls were fabulously grotty in the earliest series, but I remember being disappointed that they’d had a fresh lick of paint a few years back. Now they seemed to smeared in dust, grime and chip fat once again, so all is right with the world.

ANDREW:  It’ll be all that summer holiday-maker trade; the chip pan’s been on overdrive.

BOB: Lovely little exchange here between Compo and Foggy as well… ‘Didn’t they ask you to join MI5?’ asks Compo, with a giggly barb in his voice. Foggy just gives a resigned but sincere shake of the head, leaving us in no doubt that – in his mind – his life is that of a fearsome and ruthless soldier whose dedication to Queen and Country is absolute. So many great sitcom characters thrive on the disparity between their perceived and actual lives, and Foggy is a prime example of that. The military heroics in his head, contrasted with the humdrum cowardice of his everyday life, are up there with Basil Fawlty’s pretensions to the aristocratic life and Delboy’s delusions of entrepreneurial success. Brian Wilde’s subtle performances play a huge part, too.

ANDREW:  Despite all of his delusions, he’s genuinely regretful that he hasn’t been called upon to serve his country. You can see that MI5’s snub still stings. As you say, it’s a brilliant performance.

BOB: Good to see the classic ‘Ouch, shrapnel wound playing up!’ routine beloved of so many 1970s sitcom characters, too! Even Basil Fawlty, in fact. We assume that with both these characters, the old war wounds are imaginary, and yet there were plenty of middle-aged men around in the 1970s who did carry these kinds of injuries. Again, my childhood was full of them!

ANDREW: Don’t be so sure. I spend close to twenty-five years believing that my next-door neighbour had suffered a shrapnel wound to the palm of his hand during the war. It turned out he’d just gotten pissed one evening while ashore in New York and had fallen off the dock when returning to his Merchant Navy ship!

BOB: I really like the way that the relationship between Nora and Ivy has been developed over the last few episodes. From frosty exchanges in the café, we’ve now reached the point where they’re taking tea together, sipping from dainty china cups and – it seems – swopping notes on how to deal with Compo’s amorous advances. Some delightfully vicious dialogue here, with magnificently surreptitious barbs being placed into the most seemingly-innocuous lines. ‘Would you like some sugar?’ asks Ivy, ‘You might find it relaxes you, and takes your mind off the airing cupboard’.

I like their potential tactics for dealing with Compo as well. ‘You should have dropped the chip pan down his trousers’ sniffs Nora. ‘The sooner it gets covered in batter, the safer for everyone’. Ouch.

ANDREW: I think this is one of my favourite lines so far!

BOB: This leads to an extraordinary scene in which they lure Compo to the café with their feminine wiles, only to publicly divest him of his trousers! Drew, can we mark this down as Summer Wine’s first-ever honey trap?

ANDREW: I’m not sure if honey is the right word. Treacle, maybe.

BOB: And so we get to the crux of the episode… Foggy, at the height of his festive preparations, has bought 100 Christmas trees for £10, from ‘Big Eric’ in the bar. Trouble is, they’re all 100ft high, and firmly entrenched in the local woods! Delboy would have been proud of such a scam.

nelson_eddy_jeannette_macdonald

ANDREW: While Foggy goes in search of his forrest, Compo and Clegg are quite happy to hang back and wait around for Nelson Eddy, star of the Mountie-tastic Rose Marie (1936) alongside Jeanette MacDonald. He’s mercilessly parodied by Dick Vosburgh and Frank Lazarus in a musical entitled A Day in Hollywood/A Night in the Ukraine. I only mention this as the genesis of said musical just so happens to be detailed in my book, Marx and Re-Marx: Creating and Re-Creating the Lost Marx Brothers Radio Series, available in all good book shops. Go on, it is Christmas!

BOB: A nice little episode, although yet again I’m disappointed that it wasn’t as fully Christmassy as it could have been. I’m an old sitcom traditionalist, and I like my Christmas specials to be full of fake snow, tacky decorations and our main characters cooped up together around a dining-room table being reluctantly nice to each other. Maybe next time?

5.6 Here We Go Into The Wild Blue Yonder

In which Compo plans to take to the air… 


BOB: Increasingly, these opening scenes are my favourite parts of the episodes… the conversations between our three heroes are always fabulously funny and well-observed.

Compo: We used to roll Eileen Watkins down this hill.
Foggy: What did she look like?
Clegg: Very dusty, and covered in bits of grass.
 

Cracking stuff, as is the traditional childhood reminiscing, complete with typically florid names and descriptions for unseen characters. Eileen Watkins, it transpires, was in love with Chunky Rumbelow, and was actually a dead ringer for the late King Farouk of Egypt. Complete with twirly moustache, do we assume?

Eileen Watkins


ANDREW: It’s quite stylishly directed as well, with each character literally as well as figuratively having their own perspective; Clegg standing, Foggy sitting, and Compo lying. It just seems a little more carefully composed than recent episodes. Maybe the director had a little bit of extra time.

BOB: Should I be surprised that Sid and Ivy have a microwave oven in 1979? I always think of them as a quintessentially 1980s invention, and am taken aback that someone as – ahem – traditionally-minded as Ivy would have one anywhere near her precious kitchen! I’m pretty damn sure I’d never even HEARD of a microwave in 1979, it were all pressure cookers and deep-fat fryers when I were a lad.

ANDREW: It’s never been mentioned before, but if they don’t know how to use it this might explain why our trio are so often unimpressed by their grub.

The scene in the café is great here, with a rare chance to see the dynamic between Ivy/Sid and Nora/Wally. There’s still something quite antagonistic between Nota and Ivy here, but I love how quickly they bond in their natural habitat – the kitchen. I love how, even on her day out, Nora isn’t content until she resumes domestic duties.

And just what is the expression of a man who knows what he’s doing with a microwave?

BOB: This is, of course, Wally’s idea of taking Nora out for a meal, the old smoothie. ‘Your pastry’s not light enough,’ she snaps, stony-faced, reducing Ivy to tears! At which point Nora softens too, and offers gentle advice. It’s interesting how we’ve seen the relationship between these two women develop over the years, am I right in thinking that they barely seem to know each other in the early series? Here, there’s clearly at least a grudging respect between, and then – in later years – they become firmer friends.

ANDREW: Yes, I think the first sign we saw of a developing relationship was during the seaside episodes. This is a pleasant continuation.

BOB: Interesting to see friction between Sid and Wally as well, when it comes to repairing the microwave! Women are competitive about baking, men are competitive about fixing things. Them’s the rules in Summer Wine world.

ANDREW: People whose sauce bottle tops looked like they had “bunches of raisins on ‘em” were the bane of my childhood existence. I loved and love red sauce (I’d even fill my Yorkshire puddings up with the stuff), but I equally hated the muck that would build up. Just the thought of one dropping off into me food… ugh. May Earnshaw bless the inventor of the squeezy plastic bottle!

Nice bit of casual racism directed at the Japanese as well. It’s been a while since we’ve had a similarly awkward moment. There’s not a hateful bone in the script’s body, but it’s still very odd to see. It’s all worth it from this line from Wally Batty, though:

WALLY: They do say the Japanese are very gifted in the trickier aspects of the marriage bed.

BOB: And so, after some nice character work, we get to the crux of what is clearly shaping up to be a stunt episode… Compo wants to go hang-gliding. And Wally volunteers to build the craft in question. Should I be ashamed of saying that I find Compo a bit annoying in this episode? I prefer his darker-edged persona of the early series, when he was almost a drop-out from normal society. Here, he’s essentially a child in an old man’s body, pulling faces and putting on comedy voices.

Although, again, there’s some lovely dialogue floating around. ‘He’s got a throat like a flush lavatory’ comments Foggy, deliciously, as Compo throws another pint down his neck. Compo, meanwhile, points out that he learnt his boozing skills from Slack Edna, a woman he accompanied on bat-hunting expeditions! Another one for the database, Drew…

ANDREW: Done and done.

BOB: And so we finish with a tree-climbing competition between Foggy and Compo, and – hooray! – a credit for Stuart Fell, the former Parachute Regiment stuntman beloved of Doctor Who fans. It’s a rare CV that includes spells doubling for both Bill Owen and Katy Manning, but Stuart’s pulled it off with aplomb! Is he also the only performer to have appeared in both Last of the Summer Wine and The Empire Strikes Back? Or do we have a Michael Sheard guest appearance to look forward to?

Stuart Fell – Jester of the Year 1993
http://www.tarothejester.co.uk

ANDREW: That sounds like a challenge to me. So I’ve done the leg-work and discovered that stuntman Peter Diamond, a Snowtrooper Guard and Stunt Arranger for Empire played the role of “Motorist” in the 1990 episode “Barry’s Christmas”. Now, I am the master.

BOB: An enjoyable enough episode with some nice moments, but I have a curious feeling we’re being set up for another sequel.

ANDREW: That’s just ‘cos you’ve seen the back of the box. Based solely upon viewing this episode, I would never have expected another installment was coming.

An Interview With Juliette Kaplan – PART ONE

Recently, the Summer Winos were delighted to be afforded the opportunity to sit down for a chat with Last of the Summer Wine’s Juliette Kaplan. Juliette, of course, played the stoney faced and long suffering Pearl opposite Robert Fyfe’s Howard for many years, but in complete contrast to her character is fun, cheeky, approachable and full of energy. In this first instalment of a two-part interview, we find out how she got into the business and how she came to be cast in the series.

Tell us a little bit about your background – I know you were born in Bournemouth, but you seemed to move around a lot as a child. Why was that?

My father was from South Africa – he was in the navy. All of my mother’s friends saw this dashing young man, and introduced him to my mother! They got married, and when I was six months old I was taken to South Africa to live. But I should say that he was no good, so they divorced when I was three…

A turbulent childhood, then?

Well we hadn’t heard of child psychology back then, so although I was meant to be traumatised by all this, I wasn’t. I loved it. I went to seventeen different schools! My parents were divorced, but my father had a strange habit of taking me out of schools and disappearing with me. So my mother thought it was best if I went to a convent school – The Priory, in Port Elizabeth. I was the only Jewish girl there! I remember sitting on a bed one day with my cousin Ruth, and we’d been told that there were a lot of tarantulas and snakes in the environment. And, that if we felt anything odd, just to sit perfectly still. And I felt something on my back… it crawled up over my head, over my face, and onto my shoulder. Yes, it was a tarantula. Ruth walked into the dormitory, grabbed my pyjamas, and just flicked it off. To this day I still remember that.

We came back from South Africa when I was about five, but my mother couldn’t settle in England, so we went back there when I was six and stayed until I was nine. My mother had been a nurse, but was also working as a secretary, and the firm she was working for in Johannesburg transferred her to their office in New York. So off we went! I absolutely loved it. New York made me what I am today. It carved my character… outgoing, brattish… (laughs)

When would this have been?

This was the late 1940s. We came back to the UK in 1951. My mother had been asked to move to San Francisco, but bottled out. A shame. We then came back to England, but by that time I was too old to take the Eleven Plus, so they sent me to a Secondary Modern school. And I hated it.

Was moving back to England a culture shock?

I just took everything in my stride. ‘We’re moving to South Africa? Yeah, fine!’. One thing did upset me though… I was an avid reader from the age of three, but before we went to South Africa for the second time, my mother made me pack up all my books and take them to the local children’s home. I never, ever forgave her! God rest her soul. Apart from that, I loved all the travelling. My first spell in South Africa was during wartime, and I had to carry a life jacket and – I think – a gas-mask around at all times. I thought it was so exciting! Maybe we’d get torpedoed and rescued…

Was it your mother who first suggested you went to drama school?

Well, I was a pathological liar. The stories I told at school! There would be concerned phone calls to my mother, because there’d been a fire where we were living, I’d raced through the flames to save people,  I’d saved a child from drowning, I’d fought off a vicious dog. They’d phone my mother, and of course none of it was true! But she said to me… these are stories, and you know they’re not true, but why not write them down and act them out? She wasn’t the sort of person who’d say ‘Don’t do it again, or I’ll beat the living daylights out of you’.

Added to which, when we came back from South Africa I was talking like this (Juliette does a splendid South African accent), and when we came back from New York I was talking like this, from Brooklyn you know (again, it’s a belter!)… and my mother wanted me to have a good English accent, so she sent me to elocution lessons. And from there I became a lady (laughs).

So is the voice you have now natural, or do you still have to think about it?

No… I’ve always had nasal tones! When we were in South Africa, I saw a couple of films staring Margaret O’Brien, who was a child actress, who – apparently – I looked like. She had her hair parted in the middle with platts, as I did. I went to see one of her films at the age of seven or eight, and that was when I realised I wanted to become an actress. And from then on, nothing ever swayed me. And my mother said that I could become an actress, but first of all I’d have to get a teaching qualification.

To have something to fall back on?

Yes, but I was the world’s worst teacher! I’d rather have worked at Woolworths… which was actually one of my jobs. Or I’d do waitressing and chambermaiding, because in my day there weren’t any grants – if you wanted to go anywhere, you had to pay for it. But we had a small drama school in Bournemouth, the Hampshire School of Drama, and I went there as an afternoon student. So I could work in the mornings, from 7.30 to 1pm, as a chambermaid, a sales girl, a telephone operator, you name it… and it paid my way through drama school, so I could get my diplomas.

So from drama school, what were you initial steps into acting for a living?

Rep. Our drama school was attached to an agent called Vincent Shaw, who used to work with… oh, who was the woman from Mrs Dale’s DiaryJessie… Matthews?

That rings a bell…

Don’t pretend you’d know!

I know Mrs Dale’s Diary, I do!

You’re far too young! Anyway, I went into drama school one day, having done my exams, and the teacher handed me an envelope with my name and the letters LGSNANEA after them. I thought wow, I’ve passed! The next thing I knew, I had a call from Vincent Shaw saying ‘The script’s arrived for you, and you’re due in Llandudno to do a play called Is Your Honeymoon Really Necessary?. And that was my first step into the business. Actually, having said that, I’m telling lies… there was a small company in Bournemouth that made religious documentary films, and I played Salome for them, in His Name Was John. And a refugee in a film called And It Came To Pass. That was when I realised that I loved the camera. Added to which, I’m a devout coward and would far rather my performance was in the can before an audience sees it!

So did you see acting in rep as a step towards getting back in front of the cameras?

No. It was a job. People talk about whether you’re successful in the business, and I get a lot of people asking me how they can get to ‘the top’… and I tell them that if they’re working, they’re a success. Nine out of ten people in our business are out of work at any given time. And all I did was carry on in rep… meeting a lot of eligible young men, because their mothers had heard there was an unmarried Jewish girl in town! And, eventually, that was how I met my husband. I was sent to Margate to do a play in 1958, and didn’t have a job to go to afterwards, so asked if they’d keep me on. Which they did, as an assistant stage manager. Getting two pounds 19 shillings and ninepence a week, I think… (pauses) No! I lie! I started off on five pounds!

The big money!

The big money… and then when they put me on a contract, it went up to eight pounds. And then I started having children… three in three years before I found out what was causing it! So I learned how to play bridge instead (laughs). I left the Theatre Royal when I was six months pregnant, my last play was The Diary of Anne Frank. And I played Anne Frank! Six months pregnant, and nobody knew.

Unfortunately, in 1981, my husband died. I was 42 at the time, and I was thrown into his business… which was nothing to do with the theatre; he ran gift shops. I tried to run them, but then I had a call from my ex-agent, asking if I could go across to Folkestone for a meeting about a play. I thought ‘I can’t do this… it’s ridiculous’. I was involved with a chain of eleven gift shops. So as I was driving over, I thought that if they offered me the job, I’d say no. But they didn’t… they just gave me the script, and said ‘rehearsals start next Monday’.

So it was a foregone conclusion?

Yep. And then one day my agent phoned, and asked if I could go to London for an audition for a touring play. I was in a filthy mood at the time, and said to let them know that I couldn’t make it. My husband had died, I’d taken over the business, I had to see my accountant… but she said ‘Oh come on, it’s tomorrow evening…’. So I did. I walked into the audition room, and the lady doing the interviewing was very charming. And I’m not a ‘charming’ sort of person! If somebody’s charming to me, I think they’ve got a hidden agenda. She said ‘can you do a Yorkshire accent?’ and I said (angrily) ‘Well I am an actress!’. In that tone of voice. She said ‘This part calls for an aggressive actress…’, and I said ‘GIVE ME THE SCRIPT!’ (laughs)

I read the script, and it was a play called Last of the Summer Wine, and it was going on tour before playing in Bournemouth, on the pier, for the summer season. I went home, and the next day they called me up and gave me a recall. I slammed the phone down, drove back to London and said ‘Look – I can’t go charging up and down the motorway like this, either you want me or you don’t want me’. By the time I got home, I’d been offered the part! And I thought ‘This is very strange…’ It involved being in Bournemouth, which was where I came from, it was a lady called Pearl, which was my mother’s name… all very odd. But I only got it because another actress had turned it down. And during that season, Alan Bell – the director of the TV series – and Roy Clarke, the writer, came down to see the play, and invited me, Robert Fyfe and Jean Fergusson to join the series. I couldn’t quite believe it. I told my family, and my son said ‘Who’s going to look after the shop?’ (laughs). I thought ‘To hell with the bloody shop!’

So had you been familiar with the show prior to that?

No. I’d never heard of it. I went to rehearsal, and said to one of the girls ‘That man looks familiar… would I know him?’ She said ‘That’s Peter Sallis. Oh, and that’s Bill Owen…’ I had no idea.

Did that help at all? Would it have been more daunting had you been familiar with the cast and the show?

I think you’re right. To me, it was just a play that was going to Bournemouth for the summer. It’s the first time I’ve thought about that, but yes… you’re right, that would have been daunting. Even when they played me the music, I’d never heard it before! This was in 1984, and the show had started in 1973. So I was kind of the new girl. But they booked me to do one scene in one episode, in 1984, and the following year – out of the blue – I got scripts sent through. So I called the Summer Wine office, and said…

‘Hello, it’s Juliette Kaplan here’
‘Yeah, what do you want?’
‘Well, I’ve got some scripts’
‘Yeah. But what do you want?
‘Well… does that mean I’m in it?
‘Yes!’

No agreement, no contract, but I was in every episode from then until the end. As well as doing tours and pantomimes.

When you join an established programme like that, the existing cast will presumably be set into a rhythm of production, and be very familiar with each other and how they work together. As a new girl, was it difficult to find that rhythm?

No. But I can’t remember if that was sheer ignorance! We would rehearse each day at the studios in Acton, and then record in front of the public. That frightened the hell out of me. I thought ‘A live audience? What happens if I go wrong?’. But Kathy Staff came up to me, put her arms around me, and said ‘You’re frightened aren’t you?’. I said ‘Yes, I’m terrified’. She gave me a big hug, and said ‘If it goes wrong, the audience will love it… that’s what they’ve come for’. So that was the welcome I got. Lovely.

So instantly part of the fold, then?

Yes. I became very friendly with Jane Freeman – I still am – and I asked her once how everyone had felt about us all coming in, like usurpers. And she said that they’d had to expand the cast to give Roy Clarke more material to work with. It was fine with them. I wonder if I might have been a bit snotty in the same situation… although no, I don’t think so. The scripts went out, and we all just said ‘Let’s get on with it… let’s have fun’. Love it.

What were your first reactions to the character of Pearl? Was she someone you could identify with? Had you met people like her before?

At that stage, Pearl was a bit nervous. She was worried. Her first episode was Catching Digby’s Donkey, and she came into the café, saying ‘I’m very worried about Howard, I think he’s got somebody…’. Then over the years, without my realising, she became more knowing and cool and sarcastic. But I didn’t realise that was happening.  People would say to me ‘Do you mind going on TV looking so horrible?’ but I loved it! I was partly responsible for Pearl wearing the turban and the beret… have you seen her in those?

A turban?

You haven’t watched it, have you?

Of course, I just can’t place a turban!

Yes, for her housework! Stop pretending you knew…

I wouldn’t have described at as a turban, but I know what you mean now!

Pearl’s turban in action.

They actually gave me a wig from stock, and it used to flap at the back… so every time the wind blew, my wig came off! So it was my idea to anchor it with either a turban or a beret. And when the rushes came back after the first day, Alan Bell said that I looked too young. I thought ‘Oh my god, I’ve lost the part before I’ve started…’ So I suggested wearing glasses. And that’s really how Pearl, as we know her, came into being.

So it started off as a practical decision, but did that help solidify the character in your mind?

The costume and the make-up helped, but really I just fell into her. And then you start establishing the relationships, too… I became very friendly with Robert Fyfe, and Jean, and Sarah Thomas who played Glenda. And then gradually we all just became a kind of family. Although years later, when June Whitfield came in and I was playing opposite her… then, I had a gulp. I thought ‘June Whitfield’s a star… they’re going to find out that I can’t act!’. I was totally overawed by that. But I met so many famous people coming in to do guest appearances, and they were all so friendly.

Maybe they were in the same frame of mind as well, though? In awe of you lot?

I don’t think they were in awe of us, but Summer Wine had a certain cache, and people like John Cleese, like George Chakiris  – I’m sure I’m forgetting thousands more here – wanted to do it. They’d come in, and we’d meet them, and it’s very strange with people at the very top of their profession… you hardly ever find that they’re drama queens. They don’t have to be. On the whole, they’re so secure that they don’t have to be vicious or snide.

I’ve heard similar things about other shows.

What do you do, then?

I teach at a university at the moment, and I’m in the process of writing my second book, about the history of the Muppets, of all things! And a lot of the people I’ve spoken to for that say the same thing… it was a show with lots of big-name guests, and they just dropped all pretence of ego and stardom and got on with it.

What was your first book?

It was about the Marx Brothers…

Really? Fantastic! How much work did it take? I’m in the middle of writing my memoirs at the moment…

On and off, about two years, I guess.

That’s marvellous – I do admire you. My daughter teaches film and photography at the University of the West Indies in Barbados.

That’s a bit more glamorous than Sunderland!

Well as a good mother, I feel it’s my duty to go out there as much as possible and make sure she’s alright… (laughs) No, it’s interesting to see how other people earn their living. I always threatened my children that if they went into the acting business, I’d break every bone in their body! You don’t want that kind of rejection when you’re young, going up for parts and not getting them. I’ve just been very lucky.

Did any of your children go into your husband’s gift shop business?

No – my son became a scientist, working in medical research. The human genome! One of my daughters manages the Empire casino in Leicester Square, and the other is in the West Indies.

They’ve found their own paths, then.

Absolutely. Mind, my two granddaughters want to go into the acting profession, and I’ve made the same threats to them! It won’t make any difference, though.

We have no idea where this picture comes from, but we love it.

How is the autobiography coming along?

Well… I have a very particular writing style, which is that I write as I talk. I’ve written about 15,000 words now. But I’ve only got up to aged seven! Later this year I’m going to visit my family in South Africa, and I’m going to get on with it while I’m there. I’ve got a tiny laptop, and I’ve promised myself I’m going to work on it. Although I might be touring – I don’t know yet. Roy Clarke has actually been tempted out of retirement. Hopefully, we might even see Last of the Summer Wine re-emerging!

Really? That’s interesting…

__________________________________________
And on that bombshell, we’ll simply say, “To Be Continued…”.

Be sure to check back with us for the concluding installment when we reach Pearl’s debut episode, “Catching Digby’s Donkey”, during series eight. Until then, you can get your fix of all things Kaplan at www.juliettekaplan.com

What’s in a Name?

Summer Winos is unjustifiably proud to present our Names Database, which is now linked to from the top of every page of the site. The Database is a partial listing of the many unseen characters mentioned in passing throughout Last of the Summer Wine‘s history. Due to the proliferation of nicknames, characters are listed alphabetically by their first name, be that real or imagined. We only started to take this seriously around the start of series five, so please feel free to leave suggestions for further entries in the comments section below. Here’s one of our favourite entries so far.

Chuffa Enright – Did brilliant duck impressions and used to roll about under Doreen Tattersill. (Christmas, 1981)