All Creatures Great and Small (1978–1990): Season 3, Episode 10 - Home and Away - full transcript

Mrs. Hall is away visiting a cousin and James agrees to fill in for Stewie Brannon while he's on holidays. Siegfried and Tristan make the best of it but Tristan's culinary skills have not improved over the years. He does make an excellent bangers and mash, for every meal, everyday. James treats a severely injured dog and has a bit of difficulty with the local dialect.

Anything interesting
in the post?

The usual collection of
circulars and bills.

The odd threatening letter for you...

From the father of some poor girl.

Here's a letter from old
stewie brannen, James.

Do you remember stewie?

I should say so-- that
day at brawton races.

I never could make out why they
didn't offer me that job.

Couldn't have anything to do with
the fact you got blind drunk

and wiped your windscreen
with a dead chicken.

Have you the remotest idea
what those things

that you forever have in your
mouth do to your lungs?

What?
- I have a vision of your
bronchial passages

glistening with anthracite
like a coal mine.
- Charming.

And shouldn't you be taking
Mrs. hall to the station?
- Yes.

Then hadn't you better find
out if she's ready?

Are you ready yet, Mrs. hall?
- Aye.

A few sandwiches for your
journey, Mrs. hall.
- Oh, thank you.

Now, you have a good rest.

Oh... fat chance with my cousin.

She'll have me rushing around
like a scalded cat.

She were born to be a lady.

The trouble is they weren't
taking any at the time.

You're off then?
- Aye, that's right.

Are you sure you can manage?

Dear Mrs. hall, we're not
as helpless as all that.

We just give a good impression
that we are.

Aye... look what happened
the last time I went

to look after my sister.

Bye-bye.
- Goodbye, Mrs. hall.

Have a good time. Look after yourself.

There's more coffee if
anybody wants some.

Well done, Helen.

Dear old stewie...

It's a shame really.
- Why? What's wrong with him?

Nothing that a good break

and a drop of sea air wouldn't cure.

The difficulty is getting it.

How do you mean?
- It's not as easy as all that, James.

Stewie's a one-man band and
he's in a pretty poor area.

He can't just up-and-away and to hell
with the practice for a fortnight.

See...

Hensfield's hardly harrogate, you know.

What about Tristan?

Stewie brannen is a very
dear friend of mine.

Can you imagine launching
an unsupervised Tristan

on a totally unsuspecting neighborhood?

Answering the telephone
in a Chinese accent,

doing his driverless car act
around the marketplace--

it would be wanton cruelty.

I would volunteer to go myself
if we weren't so busy here.

Would you really?
- Yes, of course I would.

It's extraordinary you should say that

because I was talking to stewie

just the other day about this.

Your name came up in this context.
- Oh, yes?

Yes. He said he couldn't think of a better
chap to entrust the practice to.

Really?

Yes. Would you be prepared
to go next Monday?

You take Helen with you, of course.

That's fine, but isn't that
rather short notice

for him to get himself
digs and things?
- No, you see, it isn't.

Actually... he's got

a flat lined up in blackpool
for Monday next.

Ahh.

Right. Well, I'll telephone
him straightaway

and confirm that you're coming.

Well done, James. He'll be
in your debt for life.

Right. We're off.

My dear, right. Got your gas masks?

Yes. What are you going
to do about meals?

Don't worry about that.
You see before you one

who is not only prepared
to undertake it,

but who is also basking in what
he believes to be the success

of his last housekeeping enterprise.

And is also one who has the
time to devote to it,

since he spends his time sitting
on his backside doing nothing.

Do you mind?
- Yes, little brother, I do mind,

but my frequent protests
fall on deaf ears.

Will you be all right?
- Yes, of course.

It'll make a nice change from sticking
my hand up the odd cow,

risking life and limb
in somebody's pigsty,

and all the other dirty jobs I'm
lumbered with around here.

While I'm doing
that, siegfried,

you'll have to bear the brunt
of the veterinary work.

Food doesn't just leap onto one's plate.

Preparation and time devoted to the
purchasing, especially of meat--

that's the secret of haute cuisine.

In fact, mother's going to miss
you quite a lot this fortnight.

Ready?
- Yes.

See you two in a fortnight.

Thanks, you two. You are bricks.
- Have a nice time.

Bye.
- Bye-bye.

Don't work too hard now.
- Bye, siegfried. No.

Good luck, James.
- Thank you. Bye.

Bye!

What time do you make it, siegfried?

12:00... just.

Gosh, how time flies when you're
happy in your work, eh?

Yeah.

Where are you going?

I'm just popping out for a few
minutes. Won't be very long.

Shouldn't you be popping into the
kitchen, starting with lunch?

"Preparation-- that's the
secret of haute cuisine."

There are things I need.

Such as a pint of best Yorkshire
bitter down at the drovers?

The drovers? Good lord, no.

My drinking days are over.

No, no, I'm talking about
herbs and spices.

My dear boy, Mrs. hall's cupboard is
groaning with herbs and spices.

Yes, Mrs. hall-- competent enough
performer in the kitchen,

but when it comes to herbs and spices

she does rather tend to err on the side
of caution a bit, don't you think?

See you.

There's a bump.
- Turn right here.

There we are-- "westmoreland street,

and..."

Come on.

Hello.

Friendly little soul.

Oh, come in out of the wind.

Veterinary is away on his holidays.

Yes, I know. I'm James herriot.

Oh?

I'm standing in for him while he's away.

Oh? Oh, well, you best
go in the surgery.

Thank you.

This is where he sees the animals.

Oh, good.

Hmm. Good.

You'll ought to watch that.

It's inclined to do that.

Really?

So Mr. brannen's already gone, is he?

After blackpool at the crack of dawn.

It were like the flight from Egypt.

I don't know what's wrong
with scarborough.

If he gets that lot over them
pennines in that old car,

it'll be the biggest miracle since
the parting of the dead sea.

This is my wife Helen.
- Hello.

I'm Mrs. holroyd as does for him.

Oh, yes?

You'll want doing for while you're here?

Well, yes. I think so.

Mine went to his heavenly
reward years ago.

Pardon?
- Eric, my husband.

Oh, yes?
- He were never in, anyroad.

Well, I expect you'd like some tea.

Lovely.

Yes... well...

Well, it's...

It's hardly harrogate.

Never mind, love. We'll manage.

We've always got Mrs. holroyd.

Oh, whatever am I gonna do, James,

when you're called up?

You never know, I may turn out to
have flat feet or something.

Anyway, there's always
Richard edmundson.

I bet he's got flat feet.

Love you.

Love you.

Aha. Excuse me.

It must have come undone in the car.

It's at the end of the landing.

What is, Mrs. holroyd?

Your room.

Shh.

Here.

Now, then.

Pass me the butter, would
you, like a good fellow?

Thank you.

I say, would you care
for a bottle of beer?

Why not?

There you are.

Now, then.

Bon appetit.

Cheers.

I think perhaps just a soup?on

of good old English mustard.
What do you say?

Oh!

Piggy.

Do you want some?

Tristan... this is a great deal better

than dog's meat stew.

You've surpassed yourself.
- Thank you.

I didn't know you could cook like this.

One would do more,

but one doesn't like to upset Mrs. hall.

I must admit bangers and mash

are something of a pi?ce
de r?sistance of mine.

Really?
- Oh, yes. One doesn't want to boast,

but at college, my bangers and mash
were something of a watchword.

Especially at midnight feasts.
- Is that true?

It's been said more than once,
and well within my hearing
down at the student pubs,

"old Tristan may not know his onions
as far as parasitology is concerned,

but he certainly knows his sausages."

Yes, the less said about
that, the better.

But you know, Tristan, moments like this

it does make one think, doesn't it?

Steak au poivre is all very well.

Pat? de foie gras, coq au vin...

But when you really get down to it,

there's nothing that compares

with old-fashioned, honest to goodness,

plain English cooking.
- Right.

Poor James, doesn't know
what he's missing.

You got my note?
- Yes, thanks, Mrs. holroyd.

Came half an hour ago when missus
was down at the shops.

Unusual name-- pimarov.
- That were what he said.

A foreign gentleman, was he?

Russian, perhaps?

If he were, I don't know who it was

who learned him to speak English.

He sounded right broad Yorkshire to me.

Uh-huh.

Pimarov...

In hensfield.

He's probably a spy or a
saboteur or something.

We have been told to look out for them.

Ah.

What's the address, Mrs. holroyd?

How would I know that?

He asked me to visit, didn't he?
- That's right.

I can't visit unless I have an address.

Oh, well, you know best
about that, I'm sure.

He must have left some sort of address.

All he said to me were
his name was pimarov,

and he had this poorly bulldog
as needed seeing to.

If that isn't good enough for you,

I'm very sorry, but I'm
just a hewer of wood

and a drawer of water around here.

That's all I'm paid for, you know,

hewing wood and drawing water,

not to be your personal
and private secretary.

Thank you, Mrs. holroyd.

Is Mr. brannen in?
- I'm afraid Mr. brannen's
on holidays. Can I help?

It's Kim our dog. He's been run over
and he's in an awful state.

I'll get my husband. James!
- Yes?

It's their dog. He's had an accident.

Oh, right. Could you bring
him down here, please?

Blast. Sorry about that.

It's one of the wonders of modern
science, this table.

The miracle being that
it stays up at all.

Right.

All right, old fellow. It's all right.

I say, poor old chap.

Do you live around here?

No, surrey. We're up here
on holiday in a caravan.

There is something you can do?

He's pretty badly chewed up,
I'm afraid. What happened?

He got out of the car and
ran off. It was my fault.

Don't be silly, darling,
of course it wasn't.

I stopped to get a paper. He
was after me in a flash,

and the next thing, there
was this lorry.

There must be something you can do.

I could try patching him up,

enough to get him home, anyway.

You must have some first-class
vets down in surrey,

better equipped than I am here, anyway.

What would they be likely to recommend,

amputation?
- Almost certainly, yes.

Oh, God.

There must be some alternative.

I mean, a dog without a leg--

is there, James? Surely there must be.

Just hold onto the table for
a moment, would you, please?

Good. Thanks.

First, I must tell you the
sensible thing to do

would be to amputate the
leg here and now.

Right?
- Right.

There is something else we could try.

There's no guarantee that
it will do any good,

and it might make things a lot worse.

Right?

Right.

It's a thing that came to light,
actually, as a result

of the Spanish civil war, of all things.

Even towards the end,

people were suffering from the
most appalling injuries,

and they didn't have the proper
medicaments to deal with them,

so what they used do was simply
encase the wounds in plaster,

and then, leave them.

They called it "stewing in your own
juice." It's a horrible phrase,

but some of the results
were remarkably good.

If it works with a human being,
why not with a dog?

So, if you want me to, I'll try that.

Marjorie?

We want you to.

Right.

Mr. brannen's surgery.

Who's that speaking, please?

Oh.

Oh, it's you, is it?

Telephone for you, Mr. herriot.

Could you ask them if they'd
mind leaving a message?

I'm a little bit tied up at the moment.

Hello.

I'm sorry, but Mr. herriot's
a little bit tied up

at the moment, Mr. pimarov.

That's it. The best
I can do, I'm afraid.
- Right. Thanks.

This time next week, wherever
you happen to be,

take him to a local vet and
get him to look at it.

I think we'd both rather
you saw to it.
- Oh, really?

Oh, yes.
- Definitely.

Don't you have to get back?

We have another week.
- Hensfield's hardly a spa.

That doesn't matter. It's
Kim that matters.

All right. I'll see you here,
same time next week.

All right.
- There we are.

I'll turn him around for you.

Got him?
- Yes, thank you.

How much do we owe you?
- Let's talk about that
next week, shall we?

When we know how things
have turned out.
- Right, and it's mister...?

Herriot, James herriot.

Thank you, Mr. herriot.
- It's a pleasure.

Bye-bye.

Goodbye.

Well...

Clever, old Mr. James herriot.

You may not think so
this time next week.
- Oh.

Ahem.
- It was that there Mr. pimarov.

Wanted to know why you hadn't been.

And did you get an address?

I asked him, yeah.
- What did he say?

He asked me what the Hanover
I were talking about.

Only he didn't say "Hanover."
- He must have been mad.

I tell you this, he weren't pleased.

I'd better wash.

Excuse me.

Been married long, have you?

Not all that long, really, no.

Herriot got a very passionate nature...

At first light.

Breakfast, siegfried.
- Right, old man.

Right-tee-ho.

Bangers and mash.

Mmm, thought it would
make a nice change--

from bacon and eggs and tomatoes

and kidneys and whatnot.

Nothing like a change.

Quite.

We meet at last.
- I beg your pardon.

Mr. herriot, I presume?
- Yes, that's right.

Been busy, I expect,

with more important folk
than the likes of me.

I'm sorry?
- As thou should be, lad.

Twice, I spent good brass ringing
thee, not once but twice,

but have I seen hide nor hair of thee?

We might not be royalty,

but our brass is as good
as anybody else's.

Where do they get it from, eh?
- Who?

Those who has and thinks
they're somebody,

and cocks their fingers when
they're supping their tea.

I'll tell you where they get
it, from the likes of us.

I'm sorry. I'm not quite following
this, mister...?

Pymm. Pymm! How many times
does thou have to be told?

Mr. pymm. I see.
- I'll tell you something
else while I'm at it,

she's about as useful as a chocolate teapot,
that one that answers the phone.

"What's your address?"

I've given her the damn blasted address
half a dozen times already.

You are the mysterious Mr. pimarov.

Aye, and what the heck's
mysterious about me?

I've lived in Rolf all my life
next-door to the post office.

Rolf?

Aye, Rolf is a village not
five miles from here.

Oh, I see--

Mr. pymm-of-Rolf.

Now look here, young man,

there's naught funny about
a bulldog with toothache.

He nearly had my hand
off twice already.
- No. No, of course not.

So, it's about five miles
away from here?

Right.
- Right.

I'll be out first thing this
afternoon, Mr. pim--

see thou does.

What on earth's going on?

That was Mr. pimarov.

What's all the shouting about?
- They do that-- Russians.

Well, they have to,

out on the steppes, to
make themselves heard

over the blizzards.

Oh, good morning.

Shut up!

Everything under control?

Oh, yes.

You do need the mortar
and pestle, Tristan?

Yes, don't worry, I'll return
it right after lunch.

What actually do you need it for?

My secret weapon.

Perhaps I should market it--

Tristan farnon's exciting new
way of mashing potatoes.

Just...

Heaven knows what's been mashed
up in that in the past.

I know. That's what gave me the idea.

It's remarkable how adaptable
one becomes

under the pressures of necessity.

I really think I could have taken
up cooking professionally.

I suppose it's a sort of
a touch thing, really--

intuitive.

I've always felt entirely
at home in the kitchen.

Sausages, then...

Again.
- Yes.

Mr. bainbridge reckons they're on
particularly fine form today--

better than the ones we had yesterday,

or on Tuesday.

Ah.

The Germans are very fond of sausages.

Yes, it's perfectly true. They
have a great variety.

So, it means they can't be all bad, eh?

Do you know they reckon the
average German family

practically lives off sausages.

Ah.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Oh. I'll go. You enjoy your dinner.

Could you persuade Mrs. holroyd to
let you take over the cooking?

She'd kill me, James. Two women
in that one kitchen.

It's all the rage, you
know-- ash and chips.

All the best restaurants.
- Oh, James, I'm sorry.

It's for you, Mr. herriot.

Right. Thanks.

All right for you?
- Delicious.

Oh.

You'll be herriot.
- Yes, that's right.

Old stewie did warn us about you.
- Oh, yes?

Coker is the name, gambling is
the game-- from the track.

Which track would that be?
- The dog track, hensfield.

We've got our meeting as usual tomorrow,

so we look forward to seeing you.

That is very kind of you, but I'm
not much of a gambling man.

Not to gamble, to officiate.
- Officiate?

Old stewie's our official vet.

He never misses a meeting, not as
that should surprise anyone,

there must be worse ways
for earning five Bob

than propping our bar up
and doing bugger all.

Still, there does have to be a
vet in attendance, I'm afraid.

If it's one of Mr. brannen's
regular engagements,

of course I'll be there.
- Right.

Oh, and... 2:00 sharp, mind.
- Mm-hmm.

Come on, old boy.

Everything under control?

Oh, yes. I've just seen
the last of them off.

What a crowd. I must say having James
away does pile on the pressure.

Well, yes.

Been shopping then, have you?

Yes, I called at the butcher's.

Filet steaks, gosh.

Two of the very choicest cuts.

I thought we might have them tonight

with a few tomatoes, mushrooms, sliced
onions, anything you like.

Yes, of course. Why not?

I thought I'd open a bottle
of claret to go with them.
- Right.

Why don't I leave them with you to
do something magnificent with,

while I snatch a quick bath?

Yes, Mr. Holland. We're a bit
understaffed at the moment.

We'll try and pop out tomorrow.
Would that be all right?

Jolly good, then. Bye-bye, now.

Mr. Holland...

Mmm.

Oh, no... you couldn't have done.

Oh! You thieving swines! How could you?

Dried bread and water! That's all you're
gonna get for the next month!

And no walks, and injections
of the foulest kind!

How's it going?

Oh, fine, fine.

What about a glass of
Sherry before dinner?

That would be nice, yes.

Nothing like a good, smoky Sherry

redolent of darkling cellars
and ancient casks

before a really decent piece of meat.

Right.
- Anything wrong?

Wrong?
- You look a bit waxy around the gills.

One gets like that, siegfried,

slaving over a hot stove
all day, you know?

Don't overdo it, old fellow.

Relax.

You are supposed to be
man's best friends,

not a couple of big, hairy
snakes in the grass!

Sorry?
- I was just ticking off the dogs.

They do understand every word you say.

You...

Oh, yes.

How is it Shakespeare put it?

"A good wine is a good familiar creature

if it be well used."

What possible better use
could it be put to

than the accompaniment--

sorry--

to two really juicy,

first-rate pieces of aberdeen beef?

Um, siegfried...

Now, then, Tristan, now for our toast.

God bless the chef.

Cheers.

Now, then, what have we here?

What gastronomic delight awaits us?

Boeuf ? l'anglaise, perhaps?

Brown without blushing and pink within?

With a knob of golden butter

slowly sinking into its
succulent surface,

or is it something altogether
more adventurous

in the French style, perhaps?

No, no. Don't tell me.

Let it be a surprise.

B-- bangers and mash?

It's your favorite.

But I bought filet steak.

Yes. It's a bit unfortunate about that.

Unfortunate?
- You'll never believe what happened.

You burnt them?
- Good lord, no.

Anything but.
- Where are they, then?

Well, actually, siegfried,

they've been sort of eaten.

Eaten?

Eaten?

Right. There they were, all
ready to pop into the pan--

gosh, the trouble I'd gone
to with that sauce--

and the telephone rang,
and I had to answer it,

you being in the bath as it were.

It was Mr. Holland,

who got a bit of trouble
with his pig gertrude.

I said we'd pop out to--

anyway... when I'd got back,
they'd been eaten.

Eaten?
- Right.

By whom?
- The dogs.

You gave my filet steaks to the dogs?

I didn't actually give them to them.

They just sort of took them.

Fortunately, we had bangers
and mash to fall back on,

and you're always saying
good, plain English fare.
- Bangers and mash.

Just last week, you said--
- that was last week.

Since then, we've had nothing
but bangers and mash.

I've even started to dream
about bangers and mash--

battalions of bangers advancing inexorably
upon me with you at the head,

and you told me you could cook.

I can-- bangers and mash.

Have you any idea how much
filet steak costs?

One and tuppence a pound, 14 pence,

and you left them in
a room full of dogs.

You know what you are? You're
a menace to society.

Only a few weeks ago you
tried to poison me

by serving the dogs' dinner up to me.

Now you've served my dinner
up to the dogs.

Your food's getting cold.
- Silence!

I can never look another sausage
in the eye again.

I'll tell you this from now on,

until Helen comes back or Mrs. hall
comes back or somebody comes back,

I am eating out.

You're mad. You're absolutely
raving mad.

Excuse me. Could you tell
me where the office is?

It's up those stairs.
- Thank you.

Enter!

Oh, there you are, herriot.

Mr. coker.
- Just in time.

Off you go, then, down to the
enclosure for the first race.

Like I said, it's naught but a pleasant
afternoon out for you.

Oh, and cash in your hand
when you're finished.

You just think on it to
remind, when you leave.

In the third race, all dogs
run as per program.

Thanks. Next, please.

Has this dog been fed or watered
during the past couple of hours?

Good lord, no, veterinary.

Hasn't had a thing while breakfast.

'Cept next-door's cat, of course.

The hare is about to start.

Which dog did I have money
on, veterinary?

Enter.

Mr. herriot.

It's about number three
in that last race.

Oh, yes?
- It was the favorite, came in last,

miles behind the rest.

One of the charms of dog racing,
is that, herriot,

the glorious uncertainty of it all.

I have reason to believe that
dog had been stopped

and fed just before the race.
- Good heavens. Really?

Yes, I'm certain it had now.

It's not like any of my owners

to stoop to anything underhanded-like.

You examined this here animal,
before the race?

Oh, yes.
- And you suspected it?

Right.

Didn't you bring these suspicions
to the attention of owner?

Yes I did, and he assured me it hadn't
had a thing since breakfast.

Well, herriot... what a pity

you didn't see fit to bring them to me.

I mean, it is what we
pay you for, is that,

to keep your eye out for
that sort of thing.

Couldn't you simply disqualify the dog?

What? We'd have a riot on our hands.

I can see you're not very au fait

with the ins and outs of dog racing.

That's one, I'm afraid we'll
have to turn a blind eye to.

Wouldn't want you getting lynched

by all them angry punters as put their
half dollars on number three.

Sorry.

Here's your winnings, Mr. coker.
- Thank you, Horace.

Aw, heck, I see thou knows
how to pick them.

Ahem.

Here. Go and get yourself a whiskey.

Oh, tah very much, Mr. coker.

Ah.

Anything wrong?

Yes, yes, we think so.

Oh, dear. James is out.

Oh, I see.
- Will he be long?

It'll be teatime.

Right, this one's out.

You what?

He's definitely been fed during
the past two hours.

Hell as like. He's had naught all day.

Would you like me to vomit him?

I've got some washing soda in the car.

Nay. Thou's not messing
about with my dog.

Sir.

He never.
- I'm afraid so, Mr. coker.

He can't do that.

He's already done it, Mr. coker.

Will Mr. herriot kindly report

to the manager's office immediately?

Don't put up with it, Mr. coker.
I say don't you put up with it.

I will not.

Enter.
- Yes, Mr. coker.

You've taken a dog out
of the race, I hear.

That's right.
- Made history, you might say.

That's not happened before,
not at hensfield.

I had no choice. That dog had quite
obviously just been fed.

You're quite sure there's no possibility
you might have been mistaken?

I'm quite sure.
- Only you were mistaken
on an earlier occasion.

Not mistaken, Mr. coker, just misled.

I do just happen to know
the lad concerned.

We're what you might call slightly
related-- by marriage.

I can't possibly believe he could
be involved in anything untoward.

In fact, to be truthful,

he's never away from
chapel, very devout,

not to mention, being a leading
lad in our local scouts.

I'm not suggesting that he
necessarily fed the dog.

Oh, I see, so you could be prevailed on,

perhaps, to withdraw your objections?

I don't really see how I
can do that, Mr. coker.

After all, as you said yourself,
that's why you're paying me--

to keep my eyes open for
this sort of thing.
- As you wish.

Your decision, Mr. herriot.

Right.

What's the betting now
on king midas, Horace?

You can't get a bet on, not since
triple crown were withdrawn.

Oh...

He shouldn't be all that long now.

Would you like some tea
while you're waiting?

That would be lovely. Thanks.

Right.

Sorry.

What?

You're not suggesting
this dog's been fed?

No, anything but.

Then, what are you suggesting?

You really want me to go into it--

in front of all these people?

Will Mr. herriot report

to the manager's office immediately?

Doped?
- Doped.

Doped, here at hensfield?

Doped!
- That dog was definitely doped.

The pupils were dilated.

It's always had very funny
eyes, has that dog.

Aye. She gets them from her mother.

She were the only dog I ever saw
that could look down a bottle.

There were also twitches of nystagmus.

You do realize you're
ruining this meeting

single-bloody-handed?

There are people out there betting
good money on those dogs.

Money they'd be better off spending
on something else.

Oh, I see. So that's it.

Now it comes out. You don't
approve of dog racing.

My feelings on the matter are
neither here or there.

I think if people want
to bet money on dogs,

the least they can expect
is a square deal.

They won't get a squarer
deal than I give them.

There's not a squarer
fellow in Yorkshire.

I run a straight track, I do.
- None straighter.

Good. I'm very glad to hear that.

So, let's keep it that way, shall we?

He's been sent, Horace,

as a punishment for something I've done.

There, Mr. coker. Have
one of your pills.

Thanks for the tea.

Oh, that's all right.

I'll rinse them.
- No, I'll do it.

Do you like living here?

Oh, we don't.

We're just standing in for Mr. brannen.

We live in the dales.

Oh, I see.

You're up here on holiday, then?

Yes-- well, the last one we'll
get in a while, I suppose.

Oh?
- Peter's just been called up,

and Kim was a sort of farewell
present from him.

I see.

How long have you been married?
- A few weeks.

Ah...

That's hard.

Yes.

We almost decided not to.

I mean everything's so uncertain now.

Then we thought, well, why not?

I know.
- Will your husband have to go?

He doesn't have to, being a vet.

Though, knowing James, I expect
it's just a matter of time

before he walks through that door

and tells me he's just joined up.

Ridiculous, isn't it,

that this sort of thing has
to keep on happening?

Always has.

Madness.

Enter.

What was it this time?

No, don't tell me. Let me guess.

Falling sickness, right? Or some
obscure tropical disease.

You thought it might infect
the other dogs with.
- Tar.

Tar. Tar!?
- Tar...

On the pads slows a dog down. Surely
you've heard of that one.

How would I have heard of that?

Me, who's only devoted his entire
life to building this place up.

Unlike you, who is attending
his first meeting

and threatening to close
me down overnight.

I'm just doing my job.
- Of course you are--

rapidly putting me out of one.

Tell me, herriot,

will you still be in these
parts next Saturday,

standing in for Mr. brannen?
- Oh, yes.

Mr. brannen isn't due back till Sunday.

Only we're closed next Saturday.

Oh, yes?
- Yes, it's the one Saturday
in the year we close.

Really?
- Funny that, isn't it?

Isn't it?

Hello.

Mr. herriot.
- Problems?

It's the leg. These last few days,

it's started to smell really badly.

We thought perhaps it was gangrene.

Let's have a look at him.

Thank you, darling.

Come on.

There you are.

Thank you, darling.

Shh, whoa, boy.

I-is it gangrenous?

As a matter of fact, it isn't, no.

It's coming along very nicely,

much better than I would have hoped.

But that stench.
- It's puss and discharge decomposing
into the bandages.

Does that mean he's going
to be all right?

Yes... yes, I think it does.

Oh, that's marvelous.
- Isn't it just?

Well, I better make some more tea.

He'll always have a limp, but I
don't suppose you'll mind that.

Hardly.
- When you get home,

take him to your vet and get
him to have a look at it.
- All right.

Another cup, anybody?

I really think we should be
getting on our way, thanks.

Thanks again for everything.
- Not at all.

Thanks so much.
- Good luck.

You, too.
- Come on, old fella.

Come on, there we are.

Bye-bye.
- Bye.

Goodbye.
- Oh, your hat.

Don't lose that.
- It's always falling off.

Bye-bye.
- Bye.

Oh.

What is it?

It's a saucy postcard. It's from stewie.

"All the children have gone
down with chickenpox."

Oh, no.

"Apart from that, having
a marvelous time."

Oh, I say.

Is there something wrong, Mr. farnon?

Wrong, Mrs. hall?

You're just sitting there,
smilin' at me.

My dear, I'm so sorry, but if you knew
how good it was to have you back...

Mr. farnon, it's only been a fortnight.

Seemed much more like a month.

Aye. Between you and me,
it seems the same to me.

She's a very nice woman, my cousin.

The trouble is I can't stand her.

Hello. That sounds like them now.

Hey, you two! Welcome back!

Hello, siegfried.
- Hi.

How was hensfield?

Full of dark, satanic mills.

You'll appreciate darrowby all the more.

Come and eat.

Thank you.

My word, it's good to have you back.

Jolly nice to be back.

If you knew what I've been through
since you went away...

Ungrateful devil.

Are you all right?
- Hello, Mrs. hall.

Hello.
- Nice holiday?

It's good to be back home for a rest.

Give me that, that looks so heavy.

You heard about stewie brannen's
brood all coming out in spots?

Yes!
- Story of stewie's life.

Something wrong, Mr. farnon?

Bangers and mash?

Aye. That's what you
wanted, weren't it?

"I wanted," Mrs. hall?

That's what I were told.

Good lord, I've forgotten
to wash my hands.

I'll kill him!

This time, I'll definitely kill him.

Jolly nice to be home.