Babs Power
Discovering my used laptop in the attic the other week, memories I hadn’t pondered since back when Alan Sugar still had dark hair came flooding back into my mind with a venegeance. The power of them was phenomenal, just like that TV series Quantum Leap where Sam is dragged back through time very realistically and with no small amount of danger involved. I was reminded of shell suits, the TV programme Fun House, how you couldn’t buy ham & cheese things from the frozen counter of a certain popular supermarket any more (they were called “Hamwitches”) and such devastating things as the wrath of Mrs Mangle in Neighbours.
Then, I considered Alf Stewart (Home and Away) and Peggy Mitchell…and how she had always looked almost exactly the same. Then, funnily enough, later that day I was caught off guard by just this woman: It was Barbara Windsor on TV and there was something very wrong about her…or was it right? She was sitting on a throne advertising something (bingo, I think) and she was wearing a corset…with her bust all pushed up, just like in her carry-on days. And that was when it hit me: I had fallen ever so slightly in love with babs…I had fallen in love with a pensioner! I then spent the rest of the day having both a) profound panic attacks and b) the other thing you get after severe panic attacks, which feels more like a heart attack. It was not much fun, and it was only then, as I considered the severity of the last episode, that I knew for the first time in my life the power of the Babs…
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