Before I moved to Canada, I had no idea where Coronation Street was. I had zero knowledge that an English street was going to hold me captive for two-point-five hours every Sunday morning, or that I would soon love how it made me feel so good about my own life.
Even though most might think this column is directed towards the female population, I have to give a hollah (current slang for holler) to the men who love the show as well. After all, Coronation Street would still be a Map-Quest mystery if not for my husband Peter’s addiction to the happenings on this cobblestone strip.
There are even a few dear memories that involve Peter and our friend Steve talking about what’s been going on in the lives of those fictitious folks. Isn’t that something we women have been teased about? Getting wrapped up in the soap characters’ lives?
Peter says that he’s been watching this show for more than twenty years now. A long-time character, Mike Baldwin, was just put to rest, and Peter swears it’s the end of an era. I’ve only been addicted to Coronation Street for four years now, so I am in no way qualified to judge the death of such a character. All I know is that his son Danny is going to get what’s coming to him, the greedy little….oh. Sorry, I digress.
We all know that for the most part, television is a mindless escape from our daily lives. I am happier to escape than most, but I never knew that watching this English soap opera would make me feel so empowered.
I can’t relate to American soap operas. The characters are all too genetically perfect, too designer dressed, and way too wealthy with nary a work hour between them to be even slightly believable. And the children on those soaps are pumped with some weird genetic growth hormone to go from newborn to 16-year-old within two seasons. It’s just too creepy, way too Stepford for my tastes.
But oh, comforting Coronation Street. Where the characters rarely know how to wear colours that match and are blissfully ‘normal’ looking. Teeth are crooked, hair is frizzy, and makeup is not stage quality. Even the wealthy characters live in narrow, cracker-box walk ups. That’s what makes it real, and relatively easy to identify with.
There are no over-achievers on Coronation Street. They are happy to exist on the middle-class level of café workers, sewing machine operators, bar maids, taxi drivers and garage mechanics. It’s comfort on the tube, my friends.
Of course, like all soaps, the murder rate is a little high and creepy serial killers send birthday cards from beyond the grave, but all in all, my life is Utopia compared to the happenings across the pond.
So, if you are having a bad day, feeling like your life isn’t quite what you wanted it to be, tune in to Coronation Street and see how much better you feel about yourself after a half hour or so on their Street.
