A FAREWELL TO ARCHERS (Warning! Spoilers Included!)

It’s always hard when a relationship has to end, but, after more than twenty years, I think it’s time to call it a day. It’s been on the cards for a while, to be honest. In fact we had a three month trial separation after my trip to Egypt last year, because it all seemed so trivial after some of the sights we’d seen, but when I read in the papers about Sid dying, well... then we tentatively (and ultimately mistakenly I fear) renewed our acquaintanceship again.

Recently however it’s just not been going well. In fact it’s been getting worse and worse. Any appearance by Kate Aldridge has had me despairing and saying to myself that I really don’t want to be listening to this and I sometimes I was known to just switch off. If Helen Ahandbasket shows up, I find myself quietly seething with rage and again just tune out. There’s something about the pair of them which tells me that I’m supposed to like and respect both of them, but they come across as being so unsympathetic and utterly unpleasant that I always have more respect for whoever they’re railing at even though I know I’m not supposed to.

What worries me is that I hear one story and later on, sometimes the very same evening, I’m being told that it was the opposite that actually happened. But it’s not even just those two. The entire lot of them have been transformed recently into such unpleasant characters that I’m simply not enjoying being in their company any more. I used to visit them for some calming light relief at the end of a hard day, and, until recently I could rely on them for a bit of a laugh and, naturally, the occasional heartbreak. Usually, though, they could be relied on to bounce back with a certain amount of optimism. Even as recently as last year, Phil’s death was handled with such sensitivity and respect that I was genuinely moved by it, but when I returned, things were definitely not the same any more.

Thankfully there was always Nigel Pargetter to rely on. His antics were always performed with such charm and grace that he remained a lovable old buffer in the middle of all the angst and back-biting that seemed to have become par for the course. Not any more, though, because he has been brutally slain on the altar of ratings and inconsistent characterisation by plummeting from the roof of his stately pile on a pitch dark, icy night for no real reason whatsoever.

So, there you are. That was the final straw. The brutal and cynical slaying of Nigel was a step (over the edge) too far. Only character left that I truly liked after the likes of Nelson Gabriel and Marjorie Antrobus had slipped from this mortal coil, and the only one in recent times whose antics I truly looked forward to listening to.

It’s testament to the likability of the character that he is the only Nigel I know of that doesn’t cause an involuntary spasm of pain to shoot through my brain as their name gets mentioned, as my own life was torpedoed by one particular Nigel many years ago (a story I’ve yet to regale you with) and I’ve rarely forgiven the name.

Ambridge and its environs now seem a nastier and more unpleasant place to be, and the inevitable unfolding saga of sturm und drang that will no doubt constitute the repercussions of this event for the next ten years as we listeners are “shaken to the core” really doesn’t appeal because I no longer care about any of the whole wretched lot of them.

My relationship with “The Archers” all began for me at work, where Nikki and Alan would listen daily and then have the occasional post-mortem over the latest events in this mystical place. Soon, their tales of the beastly cad Cameron Fraser and his bizarrely strange accent found me intrigued enough to plug in my own headphones and find out what all the fuss was about. Sadly, I never heard Mr Fraser actually speak, as he was away over the mountains never to be heard of again literally the day before I finally first tuned in.

Pretty soon, however, I was hooked, and very quickly, all the voices became distinct and I could follow what was going on. Mental pictures were attached to the voices. In my head, Jack always looks like that bloke walking the dog in “The Beiderbecke Affair”, and Sid was most definitely that ranger from “Skippy”. It’s hard to describe many of them too well, as I have my own mental images that are probably vastly different to those any other listeners have, but all I know is, whenever I saw the actual actor’s photographs, they always seemed to be slightly “wrong”. I’ve had my fair share of mockery aimed at me over the years for this slight obsession (believe me, I’ve got worse ones) but it was always a safe and comfortable place for me to spend a few minutes most evenings, and I will miss that.

In fact I already am, but, as a listener, I’ve been missing it for a while anyway.

Last Monday’s episode, in which Nigel’s sad demise was officially confirmed by Shula to Tony, instead of the everso slightly hoped for survival - albeit in a disabled state (although what possibilities for storylines that would have prompted!) - was the end for me.

The radio clicked off, and I am not going back. I couldn't even be bothered to listen again to last week’s omnibus edition after I missed most of the episodes due to my hospital visiting.

I shall still miss some of those characters, of course. I guess that it's inevitable after spending so much time with them over the years. Jill Archer I shall continue to fret about, just because she deserves to be treated with more dignity than of late, and I will miss Lynda Snell because, whilst she is supposed to irritate, her well-hidden heart of gold and the occasional glimpses of her softer side - that too few of her fellow characters were aware of - were rapidly becoming the only thing left to look forward to.

Nigel I shall miss most of all. If I can just manage to obliterate last Sunday’s ridiculous plunge (in quality as well as storyline) from my memory, he will live on in my mind to become the lovely, eccentric old buffer - in the Nelson Gabriel mould perhaps - that he deserved to be allowed to evolve into.

Much better!