All Things Bright and Beautiful
Dec 29, · James Herriot () is the bestselling author of memoirs including All Creatures Great and Small, All Things Wise and Wonderful, The Lord God Made Them All, and Every Living datingfuckdating.com age 23, Herriot qualified for veterinary practice with the Glasgow Veterinary College, and moved to the town of Thirsk in Yorkshire to work in a rural practice. What a thing of joy was All Creatures Great and Small. Amidst the beautiful Yorkshire Dales, James Herriot finds a deep and lifelong bond to the place and its people. Inevitably sad in places, but with plenty of humour too, such as Clancy the enormous dog that the vets daren't go near, and Tricky-Woo going flopbot and crackerdog.
Helen Alderson takes care of almost everyone in the farming village of Darrowby — but actor Rachel Shenton thinks the confirmed second season of All Creatures Great and Small should give Helen some time for herself. Download and subscribe on: iTunes Stitcher RadioPublic.
Granted, few of us watching Helen Alderson and her just-not-quite right beau, Hugh, fumble towards marriage this season of All Creatures Great and Small actually wanted them to tie the knot. Helen Everybody wants to talk about the wedding. Anne Yet here she is the night before her wedding, up in the high Dales with your sorry looking face. James, I barely recognize you with your clothes on. Jace My pleasure. She leads a two ton bull around on a lead.
What did you make of Helen as a character when you first read the script? So and yeah, that, really. Jace I do want to talk about that scene at the Alderson farm, which is sort of the true first interaction between Helen and James.
Helen Go on, get! Oh…hold this one for me. Come here you! Come here! Jace How terrifying was it to take control of Clive the bull here? And can you talk about filming this sequence?
Rachel Oh, my goodness. I imagine she was kind of on a farm, on the tractor as a toddler. And this is all very normal to her. So it was really important that it felt like that. But had a real gentleness about him because he was hand-reared. And it was actually a real gentle giant and was good. I mean, you know, he knew all his lines and hit his marks, he was far more professional than Nick a lot of the time. The way that this sequence plays out, it subverts our expectations of how James and Helen should behave as romantic leads.
Rachel Yes. Yeah, I think I think yahoo chat gone now what definitely does.
And I actually think the way James is. And so I actually think that their dynamic is is an interesting one in the way that he is is is what gets Helen to, I guess, show a different side of her really, and allow herself to be a different side. I think he really draws that out of her. James is so sort of insecure and nervous around her. What is Nicholas Ralph like as a scene partner for all of these Helen-James scenes? Rachel Oh, horrible. And I think or I hope that that transcends on onto the screen.
And how did it help inform your performances, Helen? Rachel Oh, it was such a treat to meet them, because doing the show, obviously, we did have a kind of wealth of of research and things that we could draw on, if you will, because we, of course, had the books which were written so brilliantly by Alf Wight and kind of acted as the bible all the way through it, really.
So we had all this and it was great. It was their mum. You know, like they they told us that with Helen, if anybody was to tell a kind of cheeky joke or something that was a bit near the mark, it would always be Helen.
How to test for mouth cancer that made me laugh. And she was the kind of force behind a lot of his career and a lot of his career decisions. You know, she was the one that sort of pushed him and was a bit of a bit of a moral compass at times, which is interesting. Jace You mentioned that Helen probably grew up sort of on a tractor. What happened? I yeah, I did have tractor lessons, which was great.
But I mean, driving the tractor itself is quite difficult. But yes, I pride myself on being alright on that tractor. Jace Helen is wearing trousers inwhich is a bold yet very practical fashion choice. Her wardrobe, in fact, is pretty outstanding throughout the first series, the green linen slacks, the jacket. I love it. And Roz has got such a keen eye for detail. Roz actually worked on the BBC adaptation back in the 70s as an assistant.
And so she really, really understood the story. And we both wanted to create something for Helen that was. You know of the time, of course, but practical, she was she was to be stylish and, you know, when the clothes were to look nice, of course, and because everything did then. So the practical element was something that we were keen to do and Roz is brilliant because she allowed me to sort of have my input and made sure that I felt comfortable in everything that I was wearing what is newnext.
me nengine. dll things. So that collaboration was wonderful, really. And I hope to do more of it in the next series. James Why does Helen avoid mentioning Hugh to James until this point when the two men are now face to face? Think things are usually quite nuanced where these kind of things are concerned.
So why would she mention it? Jace Helen and Hugh were brought together by grief. She lost her mother around the same time he lost his father when he inherited the estate. Is it that shared experience that keeps them together? I think they got together really young, you know, they never they never got to sort of explore their relationship romantically, really, because they got together so young, and they were children, really that kind kinda grew up together.
They had a lot in common. They were from the same place. Everybody knew everybody. So, you know, all the village knew them. And then of course, he lost his dad, inherited the estate and Helen lost her mom and started to look after Jenny and and look after the farm. So I think I think things got really serious really quickly for both of them and that calls for something else, you then require something else. So I think they then became friends, really then, you know, they were good buddies, they were there for each other.
They were, you know, they loved each other without a doubt. Jace Helen says that James did the family a favor by telling the truth about Clive. Their name would have been tarnished forever.
Yeah, very much so. I mean, they were really relying on that. And that is really indicative of a lot of the farming families around that time, you know.
They had very small, small holdings, you know, they would have only a handful of sort of cows and sheep or chickens or whatever was sort of bringing in the money. And so if one went down, you know, that can have a really serious impact on the financial state. From standing what order do the james herriot books go in to Siegfried to doing everything for Strawberry. Helen Will always be Siegfried. You need to be you. Follow your heart. Jace What does she see in James?
And why at this point is she then marrying someone else? Rachel I think that Helen says to James I think I think she really does wear her heart on his sleeve and and sort of say exactly how she feels. We see that the proposal was a huge shock to Helen. I mean, when she breaks the news to James and you can see that it was I think it was it was very difficult for her to say that out loud. But I think actually wrapping her head around it was quite difficult.
That would have to be closed down. Why does she want to go with him on this night of all night? Rachel Yeah, not the wisest choice, is it, the night before your wedding, really? And so she can just be herself rather than, you know, the version of herself that life sort of made her be. I think she just knows that she wants to be with that person then.
Jace Up at the farm, she witnesses the incredible devotion that What is a progressive church performs as he literally breathes life into a newborn puppy.
Is this the moment where, despite her resistance, she acknowledges her feelings for James? Like you say, before, Helen, is the village, the people, the area, that the hills, the animals is very much in her blood and part of who she is. And she recognizes that how to seek asylum in ireland James.
Jace All season, viewers have watched Helen and veterinarian James Herriot awkwardly avoid expressing how they might really feel about each other — and, to be sure they still haven’t quite yet. Jan 15, · There’s an endless amount of reasons that you might need this complete guide on cat quotes. Whatever your reason is, we’re here to help. If you have a cat, there's a good chance your camera roll is already full of photos of your furry feline. But that doesn't mean there's no room for a few more. And just like cat photos, there's also always room for a cat quote or two. There’s an endless. Books on Pre-Order Refine by Category: Books on Pre-Order; Product Type. check_box_outline_blank Adult Colouring (28) Refine by Product Type: Adult Colouring Refine by Artist/Author: James Herriot check_box_outline_blank James Patterson (12) Refine by Artist/Author.
As I crawled into bed and put my arm around Helen it occurred to me, not for the first time, that there are few pleasures in this world to compare with snuggling up to a nice woman when you are half frozen.
There weren't any electric blankets in the thirties. Which was a pity because nobody needed the things more than country vets. It is surprising how deeply bone-marrow cold a man can get when he is dragged from his bed in the small hours and made to strip off in farm buildings when his metabolism is at a low ebb. Often the worst part was coming back to bed; I often lay exhausted for over an hour, longing for sleep but kept awake until my icy limbs and feet had thawed out.
But since my marriage such things were but a dark memory. Helen stirred in her sleep—she had got used to her husband leaving her in the night and returning like a blast from the North Pole—and instinctively moved nearer to me. With a sigh of thankfulness I felt the blissful warmth envelop me and almost immediately the events of the last two hours began to recede into unreality.
It had started with the aggressive shrilling of the bedside phone at one a. And it was Sunday morning, a not unusual time for some farmers after a late Saturday night to have a look round their stock and decide to send for the vet. This time it was Harold Ingledew.
And it struck me right away that he would have just about had time to get back to his farm after his ten pints at the Four Horse Shoes where they weren't too fussy about closing time. It had never happened yet and it didn't happen now: Mr. Ingledew was not to be denied. Not a minute to lose, I thought bitterly. But she had probably been in a bad way all the evening when Harold was out carousing. Still, there were compensations. A sick sheep didn't present any great threat.
It was worst when you had to get out of bed facing the prospect of a spell of sheer hard labour in your enfeebled state. But in this case I was confident that I would be able to adopt my half-awake technique; which meant simply that I would be able to go out there and deal with the emergency and return between the sheets while still enjoying many of the benefits of sleep.
There was so much night work in country practice that I had been compelled to perfect this system as, I suspect, had many of my fellow practitioners. I had done some sterling work while in a somnambulistic limbo. So, eyes closed, I tiptoed across the carpet and pulled on my working clothes.
I effortlessly accomplished the journey down the long flights of stairs but when I opened the side door the system began to crumble, because even in the shelter of the high-walled garden the wind struck at me with savage force.
It was difficult to stay asleep. In the yard as I backed out of the garage the high branches of the elms groaned in the darkness as they bent before the blast. Driving from the town I managed to slip back into my trance and my mind played lazily with the phenomenon of Harold Ingledew. This drinking of his was so out of character. He was a tiny mouse of a man about seventy years old and when he came into the surgery on an occasional market day it was difficult to extract more than a few muttered words from him.
Dressed in his best suit, his scrawny neck protruding from a shirt collar several sizes too big for him, he was the very picture of a meek and solid citizen; the watery blue eyes and fleshless cheeks added to the effect and only the brilliant red colouration of the tip of his nose gave any hint of other possibilities. His fellow smallholders in Therby village were all steady characters and did not indulge beyond a social glass of beer now and then, and his next door neighbour had been somewhat bitter when he spoke to me a few weeks ago.
He makes a 'ell of a racket. There's no sleep for anybody till he settles down. Since then I had heard from another source that this was perfectly true and that Mrs. Ingledew tolerated it because her husband was entirely submissive at all other times.
The road to Therby had a few sharp little switchbacks before it dipped to the village and looking down I could see the long row of silent houses curving away to the base of the fell which by day hung in peaceful green majesty over the huddle of roofs but now bulked black and menacing under the moon.
As I stepped from the car and hurried round to the back of the house the wind caught at me again, jerking me to wakefulness as though somebody had thrown a bucket of water over me. But for a moment I forgot the cold in the feeling of shock as the noise struck me.
I looked inside and saw little Harold sitting with his stockinged feet extended towards the dying embers of the fire while one hand clutched a bottle of brown ale. The noise ceased and I waited an unbelievably long time till I heard the key turning and the bolt rattling back.
The little man pushed his nose out and gave me a questioning look. Taken aback as I was I realised that he wasn't being deliberately rude. Bolting the door was proof that he was doing everything mechanically. But for all that he had left me standing in an uncharitable spot. Vets will tell you that there are corners in farm yards which are colder than any hill top and I was in one now. Just beyond the kitchen door was a stone archway leading to the open fields and through this black opening there whistled a Siberian draught which cut effortlessly through my clothes.
Horrified, I rushed back to the window. Harold was back in his chair, pulling on a vast boot and taking his time about it. As he bellowed he poked owlishly at the lace holes and occasionally refreshed himself from the bottle of brown ale. My teeth had begun to chatter before he got both boots on but at last he reappeared in the doorway. I stamped and rubbed my hands. But there's no water, is there? You'd better bring a bucket of warm water, some soap and a towel.
I trotted immediately to the window and was not surprised to see Harold seated comfortably again. He leaned forward and lifted the kettle from the hearth and for a dreadful moment I thought he was going to start heating the water on the ashes of the fire. But with a gush of relief I saw him take hold of a ladle and reach into the primitive boiler in the old black grate.
I think he had forgotten I was there when he finally came out because he looked at me blankly as he sang. Harold held the bucket at an angle on his lap, and as we went over the switchbacks the water slopped gently on to my knee. The atmosphere in the car soon became so highly charged with beer fumes that I began to feel lightheaded.
I pulled on to the grass verge and stood on one leg for a few moments till I had shaken a surplus pint or two of water from my trousers. We went through the gate and I began to hurry towards the dark bulk of the hillside barn, but I noticed that Harold wasn't following me.
He was walking aimlessly around the field. It made not the slightest difference. As I stumbled across the field a sense of hopelessness assailed me. Above, the ragged clouds scurried across the face of the moon but down here I could see nothing. And it was so cold. The recent frosts had turned the ground to iron and the crisp grass cowered under the piercing wind.
I had just decided that there was no way of finding an animal in this black wasteland when Harold piped up. And sure enough when I groped my way towards the sound of his voice he was standing by an unhappy looking ewe.
I don't know what instinct had brought him to her but there she was. And she was obviously in trouble; her head hung down miserably and when I put my hand on her fleece she took only a few faltering steps instead of galloping off as a healthy sheep would. Beside her, a tiny lamb huddled close to her flank.
I lifted her tail and took her temperature. It was normal. There were no signs of the usual post-lambing ailments; no staggering to indicate a deficiency, no discharge or accelerated respirations. But there was something very far wrong. I looked again at the lamb. He was an unusually early arrival in this high country and it seemed unfair to bring the little creature into the inhospitable world of a Yorkshire March.
And he was so small He was too damn small for a single lamb. I could hardly wait to see if I was right. But as I balanced the receptacle on the grass the full horror of the situation smote me. I was going to have to strip off. They don't give vets medals for bravery but as I pulled off my overcoat and jacket and stood shivering in my shirt sleeves on that black hillside I felt I deserved one.
By the light of the torch I felt my way into the vagina and I didn't have to go very far before I found what I expected; a woolly little skull.
It was bent downwards with the nose under the pelvis and the legs were back. Even as I spoke my fingers had righted the presentation and I drew the little creature gently out and deposited him on the grass.
I hadn't expected him to be alive after his delayed entry but as he made contact with the cold ground his limbs gave a convulsive twitch and almost immediately I felt his ribs heaving under my hand. For a moment I forgot the knife-like wind in the thrill which I always found in new life, the thrill that was always fresh, always warm. The ewe, too, seemed stimulated because in the darkness I felt her nose pushing interestedly at the new arrival.
Well this was great. My arm was smeared with mucus after being inside the ewe. I couldn't possibly put my jacket on without a wash. We've got to get this ewe and lambs over there anyway. The ewe, clearly feeling better without her uncomfortable burden, trotted behind me. When I reached the barn I cowered thankfully behind the massive stones. It was no night for a stroll in shirt sleeves. Shaking uncontrollably I peered at the old man. I could just see his form in the last faint radiance of the torch and I wasn't quite sure what he was doing.