Back To The Ogdens'...

One of my favourite photographs of the Ogdens - happy in each other's company.

Thanks to Anonymous who came up with the answer to my quiz question - the Charles and Diana 1981 wedding plate hung at the Ogdens' house.

It did! I grew up with their back room, and looking back at it, I find myself smiling at memories of the Ogdens' and similar rooms I knew.

There were quite a lot of working class living rooms like that in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. And probably well into the 1990s.

The selected glories on Hilda's sideboard changed over the years. Look at those lovely candlesticks there! Real antiques, them! And that radio - that was the one Noah listened to weather forecasts on.

Nowadays, many people go for a carefully cultivated 'shabby chic' look, and ironically horrible wallpaper, but those were the days when people accumulated treasures - like Aunt Aggie's 'antique' ducks - and mixed and matched them with other treasures - like the battered chalkware mermaid they'd won on the fair in the 1940s, those lovely old 'silver' vases of Grandma's, and that lovely plate of Charles and Diana's wedding from 1981.

In fact, like the mural, Hilda had two different such plates. The first was a head and shoulders shot of the happy couple. It was there for several years from 1981 onwards, before being replaced. Perhaps Hilda knocked it off the wall while dusting it? I wondered. But then, if I remember rightly, the second plate disappeared and the first one returned. Gawd knows what 'appened there, chuck.

'Orrible Avril Carter, seen here with Hilda and Stan in 1983, was no good. She was after Hilda's late brother's chippie. Hilda's original Charles and Diana plate is behind Avril.

Moving on to 1986, and ain't young love grand- even with taches and mullets and bulldog clips? Well, yes - as long it's decent. The second 1981 Royal Wedding plate is on the wall, and Aunt Aggie's middle duck is determinedly pursuing its downward path on the 'muriel'.

Double take - Sally Dynevor and Michael LeVell on the reproduction set of the Ogdens' living room. The 1981 Royal Wedding plate isn't the same, but it's close enough. Hilda's light switch is missing, and the picture rail is a bit high over the door, but the set captures the atmosphere of Hilda's dear old room extremely well. The photograph of Bernard Youens on the sideboard, placed there by Hilda in the storyline after Stan's death in 1984, reminds us poignantly of how much Jean Alexander appreciated Bernard's contribution to the legend of the Oggies...

... as further illustrated by this 1986 photograph of Jean. A rose had just been created and named after Hilda. Jean took Bernard's photograph from the sideboard and brought it to the table as a tribute to Bernard and Stan.

Hilda, like so many, was susceptible to a bit of 'posh' one up-manship - and when lovable conman Eddie Yeats flogged her a mural, sorry, muriel, in 1976, she thought it looked fabulous in her cramped backroom, with the same wallpaper Mrs Walker had in her bedroom on the other walls.

Oh yes, very classy.

Hilda, Eddie Yeats and Stan with the first 'muriel'. Didn't last long - thanks to that flaming Suzie Birchall and Stan. Never mind, chuck. The next one would last for nearly a decade.

The trouble was there was no overall plan in rooms like that, no attempt to coordinate, no 'style'. Or perhaps that wasn't a problem. After all, the Oggies' backroom had a lot more character than dear Sally and Kevin's revamp when they moved in. Don't get us wrong, we loved the Websters' style, but it couldn't hold a candle to the Oggies' mishmash.

And a serving hatch? Great, Stan! Never mind that it's canteen sized...

Stan and Hilda's ruby wedding in 1983. I love the outdoor snap of Hilda in the background, which stood on the sideboard for many years. She looks as daft as a brush - but happy.

The first scenic mountain mural didn't last, of course. Firstly, Suzie Birchall lobbed a brick down the chimney and turned it into a slag heap with soot smuts all over it in 1977, then, in 1978, Stan fell asleep while running a bath, the overflowing water seeped through the ceiling onto the mural, and that was it.

Enter the new cliff and sea panorama in August 1978.

A few years ago, the Corrie production team attempted to reproduce the Oggies' backroom as a tribute to actress Jean Alexander, who had just died.

And didn't they do well? Hilda's mac hung on the door, Stan's photograph, the one Hilda had framed after he died in 1984, which she kept proudly on her sideboard, was all present and correct, and a 1981 Charles and Diana Royal Wedding plate hung by the door - not the same as Hilda's, but quite close to her second plate in appearance and near enough. 

Unfortunately, in the reproduction set, there was a 1980s video recorder under the telly, and Hilda never had a VCR (a lot of the UK population didn't, 5% of households in 1980, up to around 25% in 1985) but, that aside, the whole effect was like stepping back in time and I expected Hilda to walk through the door at any moment.

And most, importantly, the mural and the ducks - one, of course, hanging crooked.

But they couldn't reproduce the mermaid. The mermaid? Good grief, yes - we used to call her 'Miss Boobies' because she was... er... without upper attire and we were not politically correct. But it all made perfect sense to Hilda to have her in front of the muriel.

Water, mermaid, ducks... yep.

I suppose such a mermaid in the reproduction set would would have been asking too much. It was ancient tat in the 1980s, so goodness knows where you'd find one nowadays.

Hilda, seen  here in 1986, disapproved of that there Sally Seddon from Arkwright Street. But Sally and the shockingly topless mermaid (behind Sally in this shot), both living under Hilda's roof, seemed happy enough. Hilda, of course, soon revised her opinion of Sally.

The repro mural was, of course, not the original - the second of two Hilda proudly displayed - which adorned the wall for nearly a decade, but it's atmosphere that counts and the reproduction set certainly has that. Where was the gorgeous scene depicted on Hilda's pride and joy - what was the location? I think I know, but I'd love to hear others' opinions.

The ducks were inappropriate, of course, against that background, but, as Hilda said, they'd kept her hand off the gas tap a number of times, winging their way across there.

And this was how things worked. We had no World Wide Web, no great knowledge of the world compared to now, and for us, the bottom of the class system heap, well, we lived in very small worlds which we made the best of.

The Oggies and Eddie Yeats - faced with the prospect of eating Little Hilda in 1979. Oh dear. That radio is a bit more up to date, isn't it? Henry VIII had one just like it.

Were we happier? I'd say no. Different times, different problems. I had some of my most miserable times long before all mod cons and I see many problems happening alongside, and some courtesy of, all mod cons, now.

Of all the houses in the Street, the Oggies' decor and facilities were probably the closest to my family's. We had no telephone - like most people in our street (less than 50% of UK households had a landline until the 1980s and mobiles did not become available here until 1985 - at a price), no colour TV, a VCR was unimaginable and, of course, no microwave or central heating. When I left home in 1983, VCRs were just beginning to move into the ascendancy (slow but sure), and my mother rented one in 1984. She was one of the first in our street. Fat lot of good that was for me!

Of course, things changed radically with the credit boom of the mid-to-late 1980s, and technology was galloping on. But Hilda was set in her ways. A bit like my gran's cousin. You may not believe me, but she had no indoor toilet or bathroom and still did her ironing with flat irons heated by the fire to the end of her days in 1987. And she had gas lamps either side of her fireplace, which the gas board safety-checked every year. She had electricity and the telly, of course, but the gas lamps came in handy whenever there was a power cut and she had several boxes of mantles on standby.

Hilda left the Street at Christmas 1987. She was finally going up in the world to housekeep for posh Doctor Lowther - but she'd have swapped that for Stan any day.

In my family, we'd started the decade with a black and white telly (the horizontal hold was 'going' and the picture was a narrow band across the screen), a record player and a radio. At the end, we had VCRs, colour TVs, microwaves, and we all had landline phones (mobiles were new and too expensive - 'yuppie toys' we called them - although Del Boy was trying to flog a few cheap 'uns off the back of a lorry). My younger cousin was getting heavily into computers.

A sad time for Hilda - and us. I loved Stan. His needs were few and simple - leisure, grub, beer, fags, his pools coupon and the odd bet on the gee gees. Nothing that exorbitant, bless him. The mermaid smiled on. Personally, I think she was a bit doolally. I wonder if Eddie Yeats found her in one of his bins?

Looking back, the Ogdens' house looks so dated. But, as I grow older, my own house is becoming an increasingly eclectic collection of 'treasures' - loaded with sentimental memories. My Adam Ant mirror hangs alongside my posh turquoise, pink and yellow 1987 clock, and my sad-eyed 60's cat picture in its cheap plastic frame and my great grandmother's flying wall swallows and her ceramic plate pictures of Great Yarmouth Model Village are in the living room. Not to mention the gonk I've had since I was seven, and my wife's grandmother's vase (broken in 1992 but stuck back together - obvious mend, but never mind...) and...

Stan and Hilda's back room had one more lease of life, just after Kevin and Sally's new-look room debuted on the telly. The old set was featured on the brand new Granada TV Tour in 1988 - complete with mural, sideboard, mermaid, ducks, serving hatch and royal wedding plate. And a life-size effigy of Hilda, with a rather accentuated nose! I wonder why?! 

Sadly, I didn't go on the tour until 1991 and it had gone. However, I did get to explore Jack and Vera's living room a year or two later. With their collection of tat - mostly from the 1950s and 1960s - their decor was very much 'THE OGDENS - THE NEXT GENERATION'.

Here's me (physog censored) in Jack and Vera's back room. Lovely, eh? Just look at that bar!

When Hilda left the Street in December 1987 she took her treasures - mermaid and ducks - with her but, sadly, had to leave the 'muriel'.

Evil '80s: Part 1 - Sally Seddon/Webster

 
"Go into business on your own account, Kev, let's get our own house, Kev, brush that scambled egg out of your 'tache, Kev..."

Many moons ago, I began a series on this blog entitled Sadistic '60s, Savage '70s, Evil '80s. Those posts were designed to highlight the darker side of each decade as it was lived in Weatherfield. But, as regular Back On the Street readers know, blog posts here tend to be few and far between. However, having already launched the Sadistic '60s and Savage '70s strands ages ago, I'm now ready to give you the first glimpse of the evil side of '80s life as experienced in that little back street sandwiched between Viaduct Street and Rosamund Street.

And what is my first topic of conversation here? Betty Turpin being mugged? Suzie attempting to bed Gail's Brian? Hilda being knocked on the head by a burglar? Rita nearly being smothered by Alan Bradley? Nope. It's Sally Seddon/Webster. I have the greatest respect and even liking (if her interviews are anything to go by) for actress Sally Dynevor, who made her screen debut as the other Sally in early 1986, but Ms Seddon/Mrs Webster drove me up the wall from the start. And I wondered at the calculated cruelty of the Corrie production team for foisting her on us. It was pure wickedness, I reckoned.

And here's why...

Sally made her debut when she was splashed by Kevin Webster as he motored through a puddle whilst she was stood on the pavement. From then on, Kev's life changed drastically. And so did the lives of the viewers as squawking Sally, with her horrifying nasal twang, became a Weatherfield regular.

What was up with the girl? For a start, her family were considered to be dog rough, but that was nothing to judge her by. No, give everybody a fair chance, that's what I say. But Sally quickly developed from a squawky, possible vixen type into a squawky, smugly married type, and, whilst her gloriously wayward sister, Gina, sometimes dreamt of being a yuppie, Sally went all out to push her hubby up the upward mobility ladder. Surely he should have his own business, instead of working for Brian Tilsley? Surely they should have their own house, instead of living in the Corner Shop flat? And so on. She wanted it all. And she wanted it now.

On top of that, Sally invaded the aforementioned Corner Shop in 1987, getting a job behind the counter, and squawking "Mr Roberts" this and "Mr Roberts!" that all day. Despite her crawling way of calling him "Mr Roberts", she could sometimes be incredibly patronising, even downright rude, to her employer, who was old enough to be her father and, as the Corner Shop cornerstone of the Street, deserved respect, and her dreadful smugness increased to such an extent we wanted to fetch up our nouvelle cuisine.

And as for being a modern Miss/Mrs... what the hell was Sally doing squawking away to Shakin' Stevens's Lipstick, Powder and Paint at a party in late 1987? I mean, good grief! No House Nation? Nope. Was she simple? And whilst both Kev and Sal were supposed to be contemporaries of mine, it never seemed at all obvious to me when it came to their attitudes. What a pair of young fogies! When Sally squawked in the Corner Shop in the early 1990s that children were much cheekier than when she was at school, I was amazed. Sally was born in 1967. Me in 1965. When I was at school, the kids' language would make a docker blush, some terrorised local people, we striked and rioted at the comprehensive school I attended, and Sid Vicious and glue sniffing were trendy. Where on earth had Sally gone to school? One did wonder if some of the scriptwriters were getting a bit past it, putting rubbish like that in young characters' dialogue.

So, whenever Sally appeared, I wanted to squawk myself - "OH MY GAWD! NO!" - and run from the room.

Having said all that, what a fabulous actress Sally Dynevor is! I approached on-line interviews with her in more recent years with great trepidation, expecting that Sally D just had to be Sally W in reality, so convincing was that dreadful screen entity. But far from it, she seems self-effacing, witty and downright nice.

If only Sally W could have been!

But then again, characters who make us want to lob a brick through the TV screen are a highly necessary part of soap opera. And I haven't watched Corrie or any other soap since the late 1990s, so Sally W might be absolutely lovely by now. She might have mellowed into a real luv.

Although I somehow doubt it!

She's definitely a fitting topic for the first in our Evil '80s strand.

More on the Sadistic '60s and Savage '70s soon.
 

Norma Ford - Looking Retro In The 1970s...

Maggie Clegg (Irene Sutcliffe) and Norma Ford (Diana Davies) share a smile at the Corner Shop - probably over Norma's out-dated fashion sense. Norma went even more retro at Christmas 1972 for the Rovers 1940s Show, teaming up with Bet Lynch (Julie Goodyear) and Betty Turpin (Betty Driver) to sing Apple Blossom Time.

Actress Diana Davies revealed how her dress sense as the Street's Norma Ford in the early 1970s was actually out-of-date at that time in a 1987 interview - and earned her the nickname "Di the Thigh":

"I used to play shop assistant Norma Ford in Coronation Street. Norma was a bit behind the times so she used to wear mini skirts and hot pants, even though they were out of fashion.

"And I've got long legs - hence the name."

Diana inherited Paula Wilcox's wardrobe from the 1970 to 1971 comedy series The Lovers - so Norma, who made her debut in The Street in 1972, looked rather late 1960s. Mind you, with flared trousers and quite a lot of '60s hippie chic overshadowing the fashions of the 1970s, she didn't look too bad!

Norma wasn't alone. I mean, take a peep at Gail in the late 1970s: she sometimes looked as if Punk (and indeed at times the whole of the 1970s) hadn't happened. That dreadful coat she used to wear - so 1968, darling!

Gail Potter (Helen Worth) sees the Faircloughs off on their honeymoon in 1977. Ever heard of Punk, darlin'?! Study old magazine fashion articles from 1968 to 1973 and spot the Gails!

Terry Duckworth, supposedly street wise bloke-about-town in the 1980s, was often so out of date he looked like a right wally!

A related point is that nobody could call most of the Street's youngsters' tastes in music exactly cutting edge in the 1970s or 1980s either.

Dragged round various fashion shops by my older cousin, Sue, in the 1970s, I can vouch for the fact that the music played was current chart toppers. In The Western Front, Mike Baldwin's shop, staffed by Gail and Suzie, the music was horrendously out of date - late 1960s or early Roxy Music - and the music Gail and Suzie played at parties when Elsie was away was either yonks old or '70s '50s retro.

When Sally Webster, throwing a party at No 13 at the end of 1987, came up the hall warbling away to Shakin' Stevens' Lipstick, Powder and Paint, I nearly choked on me savoury rice and turkey sausages. Manchester was the city of Madchester at the time! Surely we could have at least had Pump Up The Volume?

All was explained in 1989, when Percy Sugden, ranting about late 1980s dance venues and "Acid Drops" (Acid House), described it as sounding like a ship's boiler house.

Kevin said he didn't know - he'd never been anywhere like that.

Good grief! Percy knew more about it than Kev!

Maybe Jenny Bradley listened? She kept her musical tastes to herself, with her trendy personal stereo, so it was hard to know just what she was listening to, but she did tell Rita that although her taste in music was eclectic, she didn't like 1970s!

I seem to remember that Sharon Gaskell was quite "with it" for fashion and music trends in the early 1980s, and when Curly Watts looked after Shirley Armitage's little sister in the flat over the Corner Shop, later in the decade, her friend turned up and brought her "blaster" (ghetto blaster) with her, and we actually heard some Hip Hop and saw some body popping!

My flabber was well and truly gasted!!

So, back to the main theme, clothes fashion-sense. Who scores honours as up-to-date young and trendy geezers and geezettes in our grotty backstreet of the 1970s and 1980s?

Well, for the 1970s it must be Suzie Birchall - beautifully cynical - she actually looked like a hard-faced '70s baggage - and managed to progress fashion-wise into the 1980s upon her return in 1983, actually looking like a hard-faced '80s baggage.

Of course, there was more to her than that. She was a gloriously complex character for one so young.

We love ya, Suz!

For the 1980s, it has to be Kevin and Sally Webster. I had a bouffant mullet and 'tache just like Kev's from around 1983 to around 1986, so it has to be deemed wonderful, and Sally's grasp of '80s female fashions - bulldog clips, shoulder pads, Minnie Mouse hair ribbons and crinkly perms - was second to none. TV critic Hilary Kingsley described her in 1988 as always looking: "young, fresh and fashionable."

Good on ya, Sal!

Hard to suppress a snigger with the benefit of hindsight, isn't it?

Mind you, seeing so many 1980s fashions back on the streets over the last five years or so, I do feel an occasional urge to adopt my old Miami Vice style...

I've still got that neon blue shoulder-padded jacket and cerise mesh vest stashed away...

1987 - Part One!

1987! This was the climactic year when the 1980s sealed their fate as being a one Prime Minister decade by electing Margaret Thatcher for a third term, and in Coronation Street the subject of women in politics was also on the agenda...

Ken Barlow (William Roache) had hoped to stand for the local council, but his position on The Weatherfield Recorder put paid to that when his boss raised objections. Ken contemplated chucking the job in and going ahead anyway, but decided he must back down, being a man with responsibilities.

Deirdre (Anne Kirkbride) had already fallen out with Alf Roberts (Bryan Mosley), the existing local Independent councillor, and her boss at the Corner Shop, over matters political. This had resulted in her walking out on the job as Alf's assistant at the shop, which she had held since 1980.

And the idea was then born... if Ken couldn't stand for the local council, why shouldn't Deirdre?

And so she did.

Enlisting the help of Emily Bishop (Eileen Derbyshire), Sally Webster (Sally Dynevor) and Susan Baldwin (Wendy Jane Walker), Deirdre sallied boldly forth.

Sally dropped out when she stepped into Deirdre's shoes at the Corner Shop. She couldn't very well campaign against her new boss. Deirdre totally approved.

Mavis Riley (Thelma Barlow) complimented Sally on her approach to work at the shop, and Sally was thrilled.

Having heard there was a flat above the shop, Sally asked Alf if she and Kevin (Michael Le Vell) could rent it, but Alf said no - it was being used as a store room.

Sally sought the aid of her current landlady, Hilda Ogden (Jean Alexander), asking her to tell Alf that she and Kevin would shortly be moving away from the district. Alf, dreading finding a replacement during his busy campaigning period, gave in - and Kev and Sal moved into the shop flat.

When a local youngster was run over at a local accident black spot, where Deirdre was campaigning for a pedestrian crossing, her election campaign really took off. Ken used The Recorder to report the story, complete with a photograph of Deirdre and the unlucky youngster.

Deirdre won the election.

She celebrated her victory with a party at The Rovers, where she was hoisted by Ken and Pete Jackson (Ian Mercer) and paraded around the pub, whilst her supporters sang She's A Lassie From Lancashire around the piano.

Alf and Audrey (Sue Nicholls) had attended the party, at Audrey's insistence - she didn't want the neighbours thinking they were hiding away, crushed by defeat.

Alf, feeling unwell, left early.

And, alone at No 11, he collapsed with a heart attack.

Audrey found him on the floor when she returned from the party.

She was terrified. As Alf was stretchered into the ambulance, she said: "Please God let him be all right... just let him be all right..."

A crowd of onlookers had gathered in the dark street. Hilda was there, of course.

"What's happened?" asked Sally Webster.

"It's Alf Roberts," Hilda sucked in her breath. "It doesn't look good to me!"

"That's it, 'ilda, let's all look on the bright side, eh?!" said Betty Turpin (Betty Driver), scathingly.

Deidre was devastated - blaming herself for Alf's condition. If only she hadn't stood against him in the election.

With some changes to his diet and a decrease in stress levels, Alf was expected to make a full recovery, but Audrey still let Deirdre have it, both barrels, when she called at the Corner Shop to see if there was anything she could do to help:

"Getting 'im out so you could go in! Well, all I can say, lovey, is enjoy it while you can, because do you know life has a very funny way of comin' round - and one of these days somebody might just come along and do the same to you!"

When Audrey returned to the Street with Alf in a taxi, Deirdre was just leaving on her first official council function.

She greeted Alf warmly, and Alf returned the warmth, telling her he felt fine.

"You want to get 'im inside, he looks worn out!" said Percy Sugden (Bill Waddington) to Audrey.

Nobody could be more insensitive than well-meaning Percy, who then said of Deirdre and Ken:

"They're off to the mayor making, you know, where they elect the new mayor, then they decide who's going to be on various committees. Then they 'ave a slap-up lunch."

Talk about rubbing Alf's nose in it!

Alf's smile faded: "Yeah, well, I do know what a mayor making is. I've been to one or two in me time, Percy!"

Being at home at No 11, recuperating, got on Alf's nerves, particularly as Percy elected himself chief visitor. Deirdre also visited, and although Audrey was still frosty, Alf gave her advice about her position on the council and seemed to have accepted the situation.

But he wanted to get back to the Corner Shop. How he longed to get back to the Corner Shop! Audrey told him to stop worrying about the place, he'd be back there soon enough and anyway it would be there long after they'd both departed this mortal coil.

Coming Soon...

Sally: "Well, Mr Roberts, we've been hearing a bit about this 'Madchester' thing and Acid House, but me and Kev prefer to stay at home with a nice Shakin' Stevens LP and a packet of Hobnobs..."

Kevin: "Give over, Sal - you know I prefer Samantha Fox and Stella Artois!"

Sally: "Don't go showin' us up, Kev!"

Coming up - we're going to take a look at the teens and early twenty-somethings in The Street over the first three decades. Were they like real youngsters of the '60s, '70s and '80s, or not? And if not, why not?

Suzie Birchall (Cheryl Murray) steps into the limelight as we visit the evil side of the '80s, and we're also going to take a look at Albert Tatlock (Jack Howarth) and Percy Sugden (Bill Waddington). Just HOW alike were they really?

Stay tuned. We can't promise you a tram crashing into the Corner Shop, but we can promise you some great '80s quotes from Alec Gilroy (Roy Barraclough), some super '60s Street architecture as envisaged by the show's original designer Denis Parkin, and a peek into the '70s to reveal a curious fact about the arrival of our Hilda's first muriel.

BACK ON THE STREET - MORE THRILLIN' THAN A NIGHT ON'T TOWN WITH PHYLLIS PEARCE IN 1987.

Brian Park And Wikipedia On Kevin And Sally Webster

"Eee, Kev - beans on toast for tea."

Cerys has written, questioning a statement made in Wikipedia about a "lack of story-lines" for Kevin and Sally Webster (Michael Le Vell and Sally Dynevor) in their early years on the show, and a statement from ex-Corrie producer Brian Park made some years ago:

"Kevin and Sally Webster had years of washing their hands and eating baked beans on toast. Michael Le Vell and Sally Whittaker were then given great story-lines, including his affair with Natalie, Sally's catfight with her when she found out and the subsequent divorce."

Were Kevin and Sally featured in many story-lines in the 1980s?

asks Cerys.

Well, Cerys, I'm currently watching episodes from 1987 and they're choc-a-bloc full of Kevin and Sally. Sally has begun work at the Corner Shop, the pair have moved into the shop flat, and Sally is trying to get Kevin to buy Tilsley's garage.

No shortage of story-lines - although the nature of the story-lines changed in the 1990s and 2000s to become more sensationalised, as with other UK soaps.

In the 1980s, UK soaps became grittier and more topical.

Having done "grit" and "topical" issues, soaps then became more sensationalised during the last two decades.

Yes, Kevin and Sally led quieter lives in the 1980s.

They did wash their hands and eat baked beans on toast.

But there was certainly no lack of story-lines for the couple.

As for Wikipedia... large pinch of salt required.

Corrie's Dud Story-Lines Of The '60s, '70s And '80s...

Sally, 1987: "Now, Kev, I've just 'ad a shaggy perm, I've got a lovely pink bauble in my hair, and we are going upwardly mobile whether you like it or not. For a start you can clean your moustache - it's got bangers 'n' beans by Heinz in it."

Since my post on my own personal worst Coronation Street story-line of the 1980s, I have received quite a large number of comments from readers listing their worst story-lines - not only of the '80s, but the '60s and '70s as well!

Let's have a trawl through some of them...

"Fame Fan" lists his or her worst story-line of the 1960s as being the train crash - "well over the top, and the studio set made it unconvincing". For the 1970s, "Fame Fan" lists Minnie being held hostage at Number 5 at gunpoint by Joe Donnelli. For the 1980s, the 1983 car in the lake story-line, starring Bet, Betty and Fred - "Street humour is often too heavy handed."

You think this is funny? Well, you're a right barmpot!

Mrs Hinchcliffe found the collapse of No 7 in 1965 "too daft for words - surely the whole terrace would have come down?" For the 1970s, Mrs H has a few candidates, but opts for the 1971 story-line in which Ernest Bishop was arrested for photographing a sex orgy in Spain - "Ernie, the lay preacher!". For the 1980s - Rita's amnesia in 1989.

"And when I woke up this morning, I thought, ee, it's 1982 - you know, like you do, I'll go to Blackpool on a singing engagement. They've got some lovely trams there."

Tim tells me that the 1960s train crash was a serious dud, the '70s shooting of Ernest Bishop was ridiculous - "Corrie trying to be the Sweeney", and that the 1980s main bloomer was Bet's marriage to Alec in 1987 - "They simply weren't suited."

Wendy thought that the comedy of the '60s sometimes went over the top: "I remember Stan Ogden getting involved in wrestling, which was pathetic." She found Elsie's marriage to Alan Howard in the '70s unconvincing: "He was far too posh for that street, or Elsie. I know the actors married in real life, but it was a stupid Street story." For the '80s, Wendy opts for: "Anything involving Sally Webster. That girl's squeaky voice and the way she pushed young Kevin drove me up the wall."

Chrissie thinks Christine Hardman's despairing waltz up to the raincoat factory roof in 1962 was "pathetic," and that the '70s really messed things up: "For years, we'd watched the Street, got to know the characters and their backgrounds, then in the '70s details of past stories, like the birth year of the Barlow twins, began to be altered. We knew they had been born in 1965, we'd watched the episode, but suddenly they had been born in 1963!" For the '80s, Kim opts for Len Fairclough's death in 1983: "We hadn't seen him for months - and suddenly he was dead!"

Dougal tells me that the "complete and utter pits" story-lines of the '60s, '70s and '80s were:

1) The train crash (1960s).

2) Deirdre beginning to date Ken (1979).

3) Deirdre marrying Ken (1981).

And finally for this trawl through, Margaret selects Valerie being held hostage by an escaped convict for the 1960s, the shooting of Ernest for the 1970s, and the introduction of Reg Holdsworth for the 1980s.

He were a right one that Ernie Bishop - getting arrested for photographing a sex orgy in 1971, getting caught by the police drinking after hours in a strip club in 1976, and getting shot dead in a wages snatch in 1978...

Thanks to all that have written. I've several messages still to read so there'll be more on-line at some point soon.

1987: Sally Webster - Upwardly Mobile Harpie

Even way back in 1987, Mrs Sally Webster of Coronation Street, Weatherfield, was showing signs of being an upwardly mobile harpie. She'd come blinking from the shadows of Arkwright Street, straight from the bosom of a dog-rough family, to win her way into young Kevin's affections.

Even Hilda Ogden (or "Mrs Ogdin", as Sally called her) was soon on-side after initial suspicions. Kev and Sal married in 1986, moved into the flat over the Corner Shop the following year, and then the whinging, in Sally's inimitable (thank God) nasal twang, started.

In 1987, Sal wanted Kev to borrow £18,000 to buy Brian Tilsley's garage.

"You definitely promised me you were going to't bank to see about borrowin' some money!" said Sal, when Kev arrived home from grease monkeying one night.

"Yeah, well I went to the bank as a matter of fact!" snarled Kev, he of the '80s 'tache.

"Oh yer did, did yer? Now, did yer ask to see a bank manager?!" twanged Sal.

"No, I'll tell ya wot I did," replied Kev Magnum Webster, "I asked to see a bank statement! And you know how much we've got in there, you an' me, between us? Fifty-five pounds - and you expect me to ask the manager for £18,000?!! Me feet'ud never've touched the floor!"

Sal wasn't having any of this tripe. "Other people do it!" she squawked.

Kev looked amazingly like that bloke out of Hall & Oates as he told Sal all about himself: "Yeah, well I'm not other people, am I? I'm not one of these tycoons like Mike Baldwin! I'll tell you what I am - I'm the type of bloke who goes to work in the mornin', comes 'ome at night, gets 'is wages in his hand Friday afternoon... I'm not the type of bloke who goes poncin' around with bank managers, accountants and things like that!"

"Well, you could be!" whined Sal.

"Yeah, well I don't wanna be, do I?" bawled Kev, boinging about like Zebedee. "And you're wrong, 'cos if I tried it, it wouldn't work! So, if you don't like me the way I am, then you shouldn't've married me!"

And Kev went all dejected-looking.

"I do like ya!" said Sal, after a lengthy pause.

"I'll tell you summat else, as well," Kev started boinging again. "If I did what you wanted an' got a load of debt 'angin' round me neck, and went into this garage business... I'd make a mess of it. So it's no good you shovin' me into it!"

Another lengthy pause. Then Sal twanged back into action: "I do like you the way you are, Kev, honest I do!"

"Yeah, well, it's as well 'cos you're stuck with me now!" said Kev.

"Well, don't be grumpy!" wheedled Sal.

"I'm not!" The Tache was outraged.

"Yeah, you are!" said Sal, firmly.

Kev's fire died. "Come 'ere!" he said.

And the row was over.

But, as we all know, the trouble was just beginning.