I was a fan of Coronation Street and watched it religiously since its first episode back in 1960. However, I finally gave up on it a few years ago as the antics of the younger members of The Street, became ever more boring and tedious and the story lines began to get more far fetched. I can understand that fresh blood was needed to keep the ratings up and not let the ghastly Eastenders beat them, but Coronation Street has always excelled in strong, mature characters, some witty, some wise, some downright hilarious, and the preening and posing of dim young things made me decide to forgo my allegiance.
I have dropped in every now and then however, when there has been a strong story or big event involving 
characters who I know and love, though these are gradually dwindling. Last night was such an occasion, Vera Duckworth had died and it was her funeral. The Jack and Vera show had lasted for over 30 years, a pair who fought, shouted, were vulgar, loud and obnoxious, could also be loving, kind hearted and sensitive. Jack rather fancied himself as a man about town and had a roving eye and in one glorious week back in the 70s he posed as Vincent St Clair after sneakily joining a video dating agency and arranging to meet with Caroline, a glamorous rich widow. Sensing that he was onto a good thing, he arranged to meet her in the Rovers (always felt that was a bit daft, in front of the entire neighbourhood) and then when the 'widow' turned round to face him, it was Vera who had found out what was going on.
Outraged Jack yelled 'You're no widow' to which she replied 'I will be ten minutes after getting you home'
Wonderful stuff.
And now after 50 years together of fighting and feuding, yesterdayy was Vera's funeral and, as I know from experience, when a member of a soap such as this is given the opportunity and a great script, they can turn in a performance worthy of an Oscar. One such happened also many years ago, when Hilda Ogden, with her hair permanently in curlers and a fag in her mouth (pre-non smoking ban) brought home the belongings of her feckless husband Stan, who had just died, and sat at her table looking at them. Her husband was bone idle, had never done a day's work in his life and drove her mad, and yet when she sat there and talked and reminisced about him, quietly in a monologue to the camera, it was superb and heartbreaking and acting of the highest. That year, Jean Alexander, who played Hilda won an award for this scene and it has always remained in the pantheon of great moments from The Street.
Lat night we had another one. Jack, played by the wonderful, William Tarmey, wearing his awful Del boy type camel coat that he has had for years, broke down but managed to recover himself to say a few words about Vera at her funeral. I swear that the tears shed by the actors playing their parts in the congregation were real, I know mine were. As he sat and watched her coffin disappearing through the curtains at the end of the funeral, to the strains of Ray Charles and I can't stop loving you, his face was riven with misery.
A truly wonderful wonderful performance.
