Up the Apple Tree

Sunday night is generally ‘Period Drama’ night in my house. It’s the night when I settle down with a glass of something cold and winey, sit back and enjoy a crossword puzzlel whilst my wife watches a period drama in the other room. Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of women in those huge skirts that look like toilet roll covers, blushing under their bonnets as some chap in tight trousers smiles at them suggestively and says something like,

‘Why, Miss Piddlesham, you have exquisite eyes.’

‘Really, Lord Barfhampton, whatever makes you say such things?’

And on it goes until his Lordship deflowers the young wench in a barn and then gets shot in a duel by Ned the farmhand who goes on to inherit half of Lincolnshire from his Aunt Nancy.

That was the usual Sunday night offerings, with which I was quite content as these crosswords don’t complete themselves you know.

Until Sunday the 22^nd Jan 2017, that is, when Apple Tree Yard was unleashed upon the watching millions who had just finished Call the Midwife and was preparing for an hour of big skirts and bonnets, set in a yard, in which there was a tree, presumably of the Apple variety. I glanced up from 1 across – Person who digs a gambling game – and lowered my reading glasses. Emily Watson was purring away like a luxury car whilst being cross examined at a government select committee. A genetic scientist of some repute, Yvonne Carmichael was mansplaining to several old buffers exactly what a genome was and playing the whole thing for laffs. She swatted the final question like a particularly lazy fly and moved smoothly out of the committee room into the great hall of parliament where she checked her e-mails. She was immediately engaged in conversation by Ben Chaplin, last seen by me in Game On some years ago but subsequently conquering stage and screen on both sides of the Atlantic. Mark Costley was a confident and handsome man in his mid 40’s who spoke easily to Ms Carmichael about Genomes and the history of the houses of parliament. He had access to a cupboard in which once hid a former suffragette who was trying to beat the system from within and, after giving Yvonne a brief history lesson, he proceeded to give her a quick knee-trembler up against the wall. No small talk, no tipping of his top-hat and not so much as ‘mind if I do?’, just straight up the skirt and down with the trousers.

The real problem with scenes such as these, and I speak with the aid of imagination only, is that it’s all too slick. Ms Carmichael was transported on a wave of lust into a suitably receptive position which, though vertical, enabled Costley to enter her smoothly with his trousers merely unzipped rather than falling awkwardly about his ankles thus restricting any movement of his legs. Even those of us who have not even contemplated copulation, fully clothed in a cupboard, know for sure that the only outcome is a sudden and undignified crashing through the door as both parties try to dislocate themselves from the underwear that has become entangled around their ankles. However, Yvonne and Mark did the deed expertly and with the minimum of comedy moments, I half expected to see them lying together in a filing cabinet drawer having a post-coital cigarette or swinging lazily and contentedly from the light fitting like a couple of safari park chimps, instead they both sat in the coffee shop, Yvonne assuring him or herself that she had never done anything like it before and Mark casually offering her another go on the rollercoaster whenever she wanted.

The story progressed to show Yvonne’s home life being comfortable yet routine with husband Gary, played by Mark Bonnar who seems to have the market for long suffering, middle aged, partners sewn up, portraying a loyal, yet unremarkable, lover as he snored gently next to his wife while she contemplated whether or not to go to an STD clinic. Mark’s magnetism was far too much for Yvonne who began to feel valued as a woman again. Although quite how much value one attaches to a woman who can be regularly banged against a variety of brick walls I am unsure. Loads, probably, Mark would say, but then that’s his party piece whereas some of us have got bad backs. Despite her contention that she resembles a Jelly baby, Yvonne is finally convinced that Mark fancies the pants off her for reasons other than she can, apparently, hover vertically in mid-air while he treats her like a sort of reverse cash-point. Thrilled at his status and his sense of adventure she slips into an affair that will, no doubt, start a chain of events over the next three Sundays that will see further incomplete crossword puzzles. The opening scene showed us Yvonne’s life had led to being transported, in handcuffs, to a courtroom. The final scene featured Yvonne being attacked by a drunken male colleague who seemed to know that she had a taste for the rough stuff – unexpected and intriguing, please don’t let us down on this, writers.