There was something special about weekend television growing up. Long before Netflix and endless streaming choices, we planned our weekends around what was on the TV. Saturday nights were packed with game shows and variety programmes, while Sundays had a slower, almost gloomy rhythm. And the second you heard the opening notes of Heartbeat, you knew the weekend was all but over.
Saturday night TV was an event in itself. It kicked off with game shows like Catchphrase, where Northern Ireland's very own Roy Walker would tell us to "say what you see!" as families shouted at the screen, convinced they could do better. Then there was Noel’s House Party, where the sight of Mr Blobby barreling into the audience was both hilarious and mildly terrifying.
When it came to Blind Date with Cilla Black, everyone had their own theories about which contestant would pick who, and when that big screen slid back to reveal the lucky match, the reactions were either cheers or groans.
For football fans, Match of the Day was the perfect way to round off the night. And if you were still awake, you might find yourself watching some dodgy late-night film or an obscure chat show, knowing you really should go to bed but not quite ready to call it a night.
Sundays were different, partly because there was always that underlying dread of Monday morning looming in the background.
The day usually started with religious programmes such as Songs of Praise if you were feeling holy or cartoons if you were lucky. Sunday afternoons were prime time for family movies, including the ones you’d already seen ten times but would happily watch again. And then there was Last of the Summer Wine, where old men tumbled down hills in bathtubs for what felt like an eternity.
And then, that moment arrived. The unmistakable intro to Heartbeat. It didn't matter if you actually liked the show or not. The second you heard that theme tune, it hit you: the weekend was slipping through your fingers. Homework that had been ignored all weekend suddenly became urgent, and the realisation that school was just hours away was enough to make your stomach sink.
If you needed a bit of a pick-me-up before bed, You’ve Been Framed! was usually the last chance for a laugh. But by then, the BBC News was on, the weatherman was warning of yet another rainy week, and the weekend was officially over.
There was something comforting about it all. No scrolling through endless options and definitely no spoilers popping up online.
These days, we can watch whatever we want, whenever we want. But somehow, it’s not quite the same. There was a magic in sitting down as a family, crisp packet in hand, waiting for Cilla to ask, "What’s your name and where d’you come from?" And for those of us who remember it, that golden era of weekend TV will always hold a special place in our hearts.
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English (United States) ·