Personally, I find it utterly wild that people don’t consider Call The Midwife to be (to use Parfitt’s term) woke. Over the years, the writers have made a point of dealing with incredibly important social issues – including the thalidomide scandal of the 1960s, mental health, domestic violence, racism, grief, alcoholism and homophobia. It has calmly and openly discussed spina bifida, tuberculosis and diphtheria.

On top of all this, it has also examined the impact that societal change has upon women’s rights, too, taking a steady and unflinching look at female genital mutilation, rape, abortion rights, the birth of contraception and prostitution. (Indeed, it was through this show that I truly understood the devastating impact of making abortions illegal; they don’t stop happening, they just become dangerous.)

As such, Call The Midwife isn’t just an uplifting and moving show; it also gives a voice to those real life women whose stories have been lost to the sands of time. It charts their careers, their health concerns, their life experiences, their history – and it does so with a sometimes brutal honesty.

It forces us to acknowledge how our shared past has shaped our present and draws parallels between the world then and the world now; I doubt it’s a coincidence that, in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic, the tenth season of Call The Midwife exposed the divide between private and national healthcare.

Call The Midwife season 13: the one thing everyone keeps getting wrong about the BBC drama