Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours, and I don’t just mean our lovely lady who lives next door or my bestie across the street.
I am talking about a cul-de-sac of hopes and dreams. A road full of promise, hope, death and despair in equal measures. A street named after a rivalry between two notorious founding families, the winners gaining naming rights after winning them in a card game.
A street responsible for the launch of numerous glittering Hollywood careers. A street in the fictional suburb of Erinsborough, Melbourne, Australia.
I am, of course, talking about Ramsay Street.
For 36 glorious years, this 22 minutes of pure weekday escapism was brought to UK screens every Monday to Friday.
Since in October 1986, it was initially shown by the BBC before hopping over to a new home on Channel 5.
However, in February this year, Channel 5 announced Neighbours was to be dropped and the show’s producers, Fremantle, followed shortly after with news the show was to be axed completely.
We were with you every day
Channel 5, you are now dead to me. Never will you clog up my Sky+ planner or be clicked on again.
What did we ever do to you other than turn up each and every day to tune in and find out what was going on?
We sat RIGHT ON THE EDGE of your cliff hangers. We got overly involved in planning the marriages and naming the babies. We were front and centre during weddings, dabbing our eyes with hankies, and holding hands through every pregnancy blip, planned pregnancy or not.
We took deep intakes of breath when it was revealed the most trustworthy of husbands was shifting the café owner, and we wept real tears during 10 minute funerals, naturally before discussing in depth the details of the overnight autopsy. We. Were. Invested.
Especially after the infamous dream sequence brought to us by the beloved Bouncer and his episode 1254 wedding to Rosie the dog.
I felt like I lived there
I’ve visited Australia just once in my 46 years and only made it as far as Perth.
However, thanks to this daily dose on antipodean neighbourliness, I felt like I knew exactly what it was to live the Australian dream.
Watching a little sunny frivolity from my couch on a dreary afternoon reminded me summertime would not only roll round again but mean while we could toy with the idea of emigrating Down Under to join this fictional family we already felt like we knew.
The storywriters appeared to have an absolute blast, and apparently occasional free reign.
First loves, runaways, teen pregnancies and drug addiction. Characters spending time in prison or, alternatively, bring abducted by cults.
As the years passed, plots tried to remain current with the introduction of issues sometimes considered taboo. Pregnancy loss, LGBT issues, alcoholism and drug addiction, racism and cancer storylines.
They even stuck a bitcoin millionaire into the mix. Whether you liked them or loathed them, you got sucked in, wondering what might happen next. Normally the most preposterous resolution, but not always.
This final week has seen copious faces launched by Ramsay Street returning to be a part of the finale in some form or other. From Kylie and Jason to Margo Robbie. Natalie Imbruglia, tearing herself away from her one-hit-wonderness, and Guy Pearce, all allegedly dropping in.
How do you end a soap?
Old Jelly Belly Harold has already joined the cast reminiscing about fiery Madge and one of Susan and Carl’s kids has ‘popped back’ from London. As you do.
So how do you end a soap? An ongoing saga full of long term characters on a permanent set?
I have no idea but I’ll be glued to ‘Neighbours, the final week’, including the hour long finale.
By the time this column is published, we’ll know what has happened to all of our favourite Ramsay Street residents.
Goodbye Paul Robinson, you evil charming genius. Long suffering Susan and Dr (specialises in everything) Carl. And Toady, our wrestling lawman. It’s been a blast.
Goodbye to my strictly observed 22 moments of escapism, named by the kids as ‘Mum’s knobbly bobbers time’.
The youth of today can keep their modern Love Island nonsense. They’d have no idea how a friendly wave each morning would help make the perfect blend.
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