Janet Eldred

PSST! Come over here. A bit closer; that's it. Can anyone see us? Keep your voice down! Now, I have a question for you: What's the news from Weatherfield?

Regular readers of this column will recall that I recently went on record as being opposed to television licence fees, and that therefore I have no telly.

Nevertheless, since living in York I've become hooked on one particular show, thanks to a close friend who turned me on to it in the privacy of her home. Herself an addict, she was tuned to Coronation Street the night Alma Baldwin and that crazy cab driver, Don Brennan, plunged into the river in Don's taxi.

Intrigued, I started casually watching the programme at other friends' homes and before I know what was happening, I was caring deeply about Deirdre's catastrophic relationship with schemer John Lindsay. That did it - I was a Coro junkie.

Since then, desperate for a regular fix of The Street, I quiz fellow students, pub-goers and church members about the latest episode. I search newspapers, books, the Internet, and even academic journals for background and comment-ary. And I beg my partner to tape it for me to watch at his place on the weekend.

Then, from opening theme music to closing credits, nothing and no one can distract me. Gaze fixed, eyes wide and unblinking, I enter another world. Prolonged absence, as with any addiction is a real problem.

When I had to be in the States for several weeks this time last year, I was desperate to know what was happening in Deirdre's trial for fraud, all of which took place in my absence. Fortunately, a source here in York provided regular reports so that I didn't have to go cold turkey.

Why am I, an American, fascinated with a British television show based on characters with backgrounds and lives so different from mine? How can someone raised in Western New York State, love a programme set in north west England?

Well, some reasons are obvious because they apply generally. Topical story lines, surprise twists in the plot and lots of good humour (long live Fred Elliott!) all developed through good writing and carried out by believable acting keep every fan watching.

Still, this doesn't answer the question of what it is that so appeals to me. Were the same situations happening in my home town (Buffalo) as in Weatherfield, were there equally strong characters and sharp wit on a show called Elmwood Avenue, as on Coronation Street, I probably wouldn't be interested. It would be all too familiar.

But, in what is still in many ways a culture foreign to me, I'm drawn in like a magnet to the very things, from pubs to pillar boxes, that make The Street different from any US counterpart.

For me, watching The Street is a great way to stay current with popular culture, tune my ear to northern accents and slang and gain a built-in conversation opener with strangers.

Perhaps most importantly, the show gives me something to hold in common with 16 million Brits.

Last October, my partner took me on a pilgrimage to Granada studios, the holy of holies, so I could join fellow worshippers at the shrine of the Kabin, the Corner Shop, and the Rovers. Dozens of us walked the hallowed cobbles, peered through letter slots, and had a nosy into back yards.

We collected the requisite relics - tea towels, mugs, fridge magnets, biscuits and bags - and had our photos taken to commemorate the occasion. Standing on Coronation Street, I was no longer an American, an outsider with nose pressed against the windows of England.

For an afternoon I was one of you. Dare I hope that loving Coronation Street might mean I could finally be assimilated into British culture?

This is Janet Eldred's last column for the Evening Press.

7/4/99

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.