Back in the autumn of 1990, I cut myself loose. I left my then partner (by mutual, and slightly acrimonious, consent) and went to live in a small cottage well off the beaten track in Northumberland. It was a very cold winter that year and the cottage was inadequately heated, but I had compelling company:
The first episode that was aired in Britain was a double one and it piqued my interest. It was the final scene from the third episode, however, that stunned and hooked me completely. The show was broadcast in Britain at 9pm every Tuesday night, and then repeated around midnight on Saturday. I watched every episode twice after that. I would have driven a million miles to get home for Twin Peaks, since few people had recording equipment in those days – me included. It taught me a lot about who I really was, and I still maintain that it was the finest TV programme ever to be broadcast.
This is the final scene from the third episode. The quality is poor, but it’s still watchable. In case you don’t know, by the way, Laura Palmer is dead, and Agent Cooper is the FBI man sent to investigate her murder. One strange thing, though: I would swear by all that’s holy that, in the version we got in Britain, Laura was wearing white.