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Corrie weekly updates from 1995, 17 years in 17 e-books
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Cilla’s got bad news but she’s keeping it close to her very ample chest. Les thinks her silence signals some sub-duvet shenanigans with someone else and he asks The Wonderful Yana if she thinks her mate Cilla’s having an affair. Yana says na-na, she’d know if she was but that doesn’t stop Les and Yana getting cosy in the snug while Cilla’s at home frettin’ about stuff. It’s their wedding anniversary so Les throws caution to the wind and lays the table with the good stuff (lager in glasses, not cans) for an anniversary meal of take-away Indian and Nat King Cole on CD. An upset Cilla storms upstairs to a bath and an early night, still not telling Les what’s on her mind. We find out soon enough when Cilla gets the low down from a doc at th’ospital who tells her she’s got skin cancer. Last week it was called a mole and this week a melanoma that’s been sent off for biopsy. She still doesn’t tell anyone and Les and Yana comfort each other on the sofa with cheap brandy before Les throws Cilla out onto the street, believing she’s back to her old ways and her men. With nowhere to go, Cilla finally tells Fiz the truth, up in her flat.
Becky’s mate Slug turns up in the café. He’s sort of scruffy, a little bit whoah, a little bit whay, exactly what you’d expect of a companion to Becky, being of the male persuasion, in a dirty anorak and with an odd dog on a lead. Hayley has a word with her about nicking money from the caff. “I ‘avurrnt!” she says. She has. She’s nicked twenty quid but Hayley’s words have some sort of effect and Becky manages to miraculously find a tenner under the fridge in Roy’s Rolls and then another five appears when a customer gives it to her as a tip, or so she says. Mind you, she starts calling Vera ‘Vezza’ which would have landed her a clip round the lug hole if Vera had been younger. Becky does well in the caff when the Croppers leave her to cope on her own, she’s a bit louder than the customers are used to, a bit more common and tacky than Roy may like his serving staff to be, but she’s doing okay. “Who’re you gonna call? Toast-busters!” she yells as Hayley and Roy return. She’s enthusiastic, you’ve got to give her that, and becoming good fun to watch.
In the Rovers, the factory girls play darts against the Underworld bosses (that’s Danny and Liam not Don Corleone). At stake in the match is the factory Christmas rave-up-knees-up and Janice saves the day when she throws the winning dart. There were grumblings from across the living room in our house when he who knows about darts – and indeed has medals to prove it – that the game wasn’t played right, but it looked fine to me. My only connection to darts was a poem I once wrote about a game with the arrows and I had to stand up to read it out to a small group on a bleak Saturday morning in an even more bleak north-east community centre. It was all about bulls’ eyes, bleeding, and the creative writing tutor looked more than a bit alarmed. But anyway, I digress. Liam consoles brother Paul and tells him he’ll have to dip his hand into his pocket to fork out for festive fun for the females (and Sean) but Paul tells him that he had two reasons for wanting the girls to win. The first was to raise staff morale among the knicker stitchers and t’other was to get one over on Danny-boy Baldwin. Good point.
Speaking of Danny, he found out this week, and about time too, that Jamie and Frankie were an item, a two-some, a mother and son team in more ways than one. There’s some shouting, some crying and then a fight in the canal when Danny tried to kill Jamie under the water. Frankie stands on the bank side like a newbie football fan not knowing which team to shout for. Is it Danny she wants? Jamie? She shouts out for Danny but when Jamie doesn’t surface from under the water she realises it’s him she really loves. Danny has to go back under the water to pull Jamie out and Frankie gives her son the kiss of life. Or was she snogging his face off? Who knows? Driven to the brink of a mental breakdown, Danny drives himself to the edge of the viaduct, depressed as can be. And just when you think things can’t get any worse, Warren rings him on the phone all the way from sunny Spain. “Orwight dad, ah didden gettinter Port Vale. Cushty, buenosh nachos”.
Rita returns full of hell from Hungary, gunning for Norris and in a foul mood. Oh, and did I mention she wasn’t best pleased? “A Bread Roll?” huffs Emily in the Kabin just like Lady Bracknell when Rita regales her with the tale of the breakfast buffet and how Norris knocked her out of the way to get to the bread, breaking her foot and ruining her holiday. Norris has the decency to feel a little alarmed and somewhat apologetic so nips out to the shops to buy Rita some trainers, the most comfortable pair of shoes she’s ever had, or so she says. That is, until she finds out they’re kids’ shoes that light up each time the shoe hits the ground. It’s time Rita put her foot down with Norris - but each time she does, her shoe lights up pink! Norris is beside himself with rage when he finds graffiti on the Kabin wall. He has to have a half of bitter in the pub to numb the pain and is determined to find out just who the culprit is, wrongly assuming it’s Chesney.
And that's just about that for this week.
By Glenda Young , writer of Coronation Street Weekly Updates for the internet since 1995.
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