25 April-6 May

Due to a holiday, a busy schedule since coming back, and sheer laziness on my part, there will be no proper ‘Week in Walford’ entries for the last two weeks.

I will, however, sum up my memories of the last fortnight as best as I can remember them through a haze of not really paying attention to several episodes in a hotel room when they aired and missing the omnibus both weeks.

Theme of the fortnight? People reverting to type.

The Masoods seem to be on some sort of mission to win the coveted Family that Lies the Most in Soapland award; and my god, that’s a category with some fierce competition. Zainab is lying to Masood about meeting with Syed and lying to Syed about the problems in her family. Masood is lying to Zainab about his gambling and relationship with Jane. Tamwar and Afia are lying to everyone about their marriage. Syed is doing his best to return to this family of liars by – that’s right – lying to Christian about meeting Zainab. Kamil is the only (current) member of the family not lying to everyone he knows, but that’s probably only because he hasn’t learnt to talk yet. And somewhere in Pakistan, no doubt Shabnam is failing to tell the truth every time she picks up the phone as well.

7-11 March

(A little short and very, very late this week, apologies!  Blame real life for taking up my time or blame EastEnders for not making me care enough about Phil and Shirley to want to write about them.)

So then, farewell Glenda.  We will miss you; your pantomine acting, your inconsistent characterisation, your perfectly crafted eyebrows of disdain, the way you seem to be ageing backwards, on the cusp of becoming younger than your own daughters any moment.  Most of all, we will miss that one strand of hair you always neglected when tucking your hair behind your ears that drove me up the wall in every single scene.

I am actually being serious here.  She’ll never go down in history as an EastEnders legend and the writers never seemed entirely sure what to do with her, but I always enjoyed Glenda as a character.  An older woman unashamed of her own sexuality, she brought a touch of fragrant beauty to our screens that will be missed.  It was never going to last though.  She was simply too glamourous for Albert Square and was eventually, inevitably hounded out by the sour-faced women of Walford.

28 February-4 March

So the cat’s out of the bag.  Except that it isn’t.  The only people who heard Glenda’s revelation that Phil had been cheating on Shirley – other than the couple in question – were Ian, who already knew; Jane, who didn’t care; Roxy, who didn’t believe it; and Heather, who didn’t quite understand what was going on.

Poor Glenda.  She had forgotten one of the Unwritten Rules of Albert Square: all affairs must be revealed in front of as many cast members as possible for maximum impact, preferably at some sort of party or celebration.  Props help in this department.  If only she’d had a cassette tape as Grant did, a nice DVD like the one Lauren used to ruin her family’s Christmas, or had gone the Lucy Beale method and inexplicably – though neatly – spray painted a wall rather than sending an anonymous letter or text or even simply walking up to the wronged party in the street and saying, ‘Psst, love, did you know your husband’s shagging my uncle?’

If Glenda had spilled the beans in front of the massed gossips of Walford at Phil and Shirley’s wedding reception, she would no doubt be instantly believed by everyone and vindicated in her revenge.  Alas, she chose instead to reveal their affair over a cheese omelette in a half-empty Queen Vic and was promptly punished by the Gods of Albert Square.  No one believed her.  No one cared.

14-18 February 2011

Ah Roxy, Roxy, Roxy.  Clearly a woman who has inherited the Mitchell taste in men, or complete lack thereof.  Her mother did, after all, marry Archie Mitchell – the most evil man in the history of soap – and has repeatedly slept by choice with both Phil Mitchell and Ian Beale.  (Actually, perhaps Glenda just needs to visit an optician.)  And then there’s Auntie Peg of course, who worked her way through an endless line of adulterers, rapists and child molesters during her time in Walford.  Compared to that, Roxy’s taste for men completely devoid of personality, charm or character is almost acceptable.  At least Sean, Jack and Dr Al were all pretty easy on the eyes though; the attraction of Michael Moon is still one of the great mysteries of Albert Square, much like the hordes of beautiful women who have thrown themselves at Phil or the fact that Ian has persuaded four actual women to marry him.  Possibly some sort of powerful pheromone, undetectable to the television viewer, is involved.

That’s right, we were treated to even more Michael this week while we continued to wait for a personality to emerge.  No one who orbited near that black hole of blank space came away unscathed.  Alfie, a character who hasn’t put a foot wrong since he came back became unwatchable as he bantered with the man who had knocked up his wife without a care in the world.  I didn’t think it was possible for Jack to bore me more than he already did, but I had forgotten how much the character benefits from being put with decent actors like Max and Ronnie.   And Roxy became even more selfish than usual this week, blowing off her best friend for a quick bunk-up with a man with the sex appeal of an amoeba.

Mind you, I can’t blame Roxy for wanting to avoid Christian this week, the mood he was in.  I don’t know what’s happened to Christian recently.  Once one of my absolute favourite people in Albert Square, he’s been a right moody git since New Year, acting like a sulky toddler throwing his toys out of the pram.  This week, on finding Roxy with Michael instead of meeting as arranged for lunch and a pregnancy test, he decided to blow up at both Roxy and Syed, accusing them of never wanting this child in the first place.  Well, yes, Christian.  You know that.  We know that.  Syed told you that.  This entire ridiculous situation is your own stupid fault for not listening to your boyfriend and taking your best friend’s drunken offer seriously.  Thank god the test was negative and we’re to be spared 9 months of ‘Who’s the Daddy?’ followed by the inevitable custody battle, though it does rather raise the question of what the point of the whole thing was.

7-11 February 2011

EastEnders was a bit depressing this week.

Actually, EastEnders is always a bit depressing.  This was one of those weeks where it managed to tip over – and not for the first time – into full-on wrist-slitting television, a black hole of bleak misery and despair from which there isn’t even the smallest chance of a tiny speck of light escaping to brighten the darkness.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m an EastEnders fan.  Have been most of my life.  I love a bit of pain and misery or I wouldn’t still be glued to my TV screen four times a week.  But – and call me crazy if you want – I like my pain and misery to happen in logical ways to characters I care about and/or be countered by a bit of light relief, hope or optimism.