Cheers! Make yourself a cuppa it's drama time!
Translate to your language by selecting from the box~:
🫖 A Kettle’s Boil and a Quiet Cliffhanger
By Flora Devon | Domestic Drama Correspondent
“In every village, there’s a truth no one says out loud — but everyone feels.”
I was five when I first heard Coronation Street in the background. Not watched — heard. The rising hum of the theme tune, that distinctive little trill before the opening shot of terraced rooftops and cobbled streets. I didn’t know the names yet, but I knew the tone: voices raised in kitchens, tears wiped with dish towels, someone storming out while a kettle shrieked.
That was the beginning.
By the time I was old enough to properly follow a plot, I was watching EastEnders with my nan, who never missed an episode. She would sit in her armchair with her slippers, a tin of biscuits, and me — curled on the carpet — and she’d mutter things like “Well, that’ll come back on her” or “Phil Mitchell’s going to pop a blood vessel, mark my words.”
I learned early that soaps weren’t just stories. They were rituals. They were emotional newspapers for working-class life. They showed people breaking down, getting up again, doing the washing, hiding things in bins, falling in love, and losing everything — all in half an hour, five nights a week. Glorious.
I came to Emmerdale later. I used to think it moved too slow — all that space, those fields — but then one episode ended with a tractor accident and a scream that carried through the valley, and I understood: stillness can be just as dramatic as shouting. You just have to listen closely.
So here I am, decades on, still listening.
Now I write about these dramas because they matter. They reflect our griefs and our gossip. They understand that women carry generations in their silence. That pubs are churches. That a slammed door is sometimes more powerful than a soliloquy.
I’ll be writing about the long arcs, the moments that changed things, and the quiet scenes no one talked about but everyone felt. And I’ll always be honest — because soap fans can smell inauthenticity faster than Dot Cotton can roll a cig.
You’ll also meet my dog, Willy. He’s a pug with great instincts for plot twists and an even better side-eye. He often watches with me. We don’t judge the characters — but we do take notes.
So whether you’ve been with these shows since Elsie Tanner or just popped in to see what’s going on in Albert Square, you’re welcome here. There’s a spot on the sofa, a warm cup of tea, and plenty to talk about.
Let the drama begin.
— Flora
