AS Forrest Gump’s mama never said, quirkiness is like a box of chocolates. Eating just enough is a delicious treat; scoff too many and it is pass the sick bag time. So it was that I approached The Falkirk Cowboys (BBC1, Wednesday) with caution.

The story of a group of British Aluminium Company workers who made cowboy movies in their spare time sounded, on paper, like the stuff of which the ideal Nationwide item was made. Nationwide, for those who have successfully erased it from their memory, was The One Show of its day, quirk central, the programme that gave civilisation the skateboarding duck. Sure enough, Nationwide had long ago filmed an item on the Falkirk workers, and clips from the item peppered the piece.

As if to compensate for the light-heartedness, the BBC documentary had various bods talking about the significance of the films, the techniques used, cultural importance, and so on. It was kindly meant but unnecessary.

What do you know: it turns out the best things about the Falkirk Cowboys were …. drum roll please … the Falkirk Cowboys. Interviews with those still around showed that the larking about and daftness was just that. No more, no less. Just men with the usual cares and woes finding joy in being weans again. Women got involved too, either in the making of costumes or, in one short film, as “saloon girls” (hey, it was the Seventies).

I thought the documentary hit a high when three former “stars” of the films sat down to watch them again for the first time in a long time. Their faces as the screen lit up were straight out of Cinema Paradiso. But better was to come when one, who played The Mummy, showed his granddaughter the film on an iPad, and then revealed the monster to be grandpa. Priceless. Oscars all round, boys.

I would like to think the late, great and never bettered television critic and poet Clive James would have enjoyed The Falkirk Cowboys as much as Seamus Heaney: The Music of What Happens (BBC2, Saturday). A straight down the line biopic of the Nobel prizewinner, all the fireworks were in his poems, which were read by family, friends and himself. Heaney was a television natural, so there was lots of archive to choose from. No subject was rushed, from his childhood as one of nine in Northern Ireland to his leaving of this world. A life well lived, a man much loved and missed.

A soul was in sore need of some lightness and beauty after watching The Family Secret (Channel 4, Tuesday). We knew from the opening scene of a woman taking a tour of a family home that was up for sale that this was going to be a story of dreadful loss. Kath had been living with a secret for 25 years and now she needed “him” to face the truth.

The filmmakers had no need to ramp up the tension and drama, but they did at first. Once we were in the room where a “restorative justice” session was underway there were plenty of moments to take the breath away. Sadness hung around the room like a fug. It was terrible and depressing but through it all shone Kath, a woman who had had her childhood stolen and was damned if she was going to let the rest of her life be overshadowed by the evil actions of another.

The War of the Worlds (BBC1, Sunday) came to a conclusion, and not before time. Jeez, this has been dreary. A smashing performance from Eleanor “Demelza” Tomlinson but the post apocalyptic tone of the piece was not the kind of thing to send a viewer to bed with a glad heart ahead of the working week.

There was one final attempt to finish on a note of hope, but it was too late. Too many giant spiders under the bridge.

Have you been keeping up with Gold Digger (BBC1, Tuesday)?

I was a bit sniffy at first but by series end – yes, it’s a fair cop, I ate that giant box of Milk Tray on iPlayer – I was ready to place the drama, with a happy sigh, into the “TV so bad it’s good” box. Poor old rich lady Julia. Every time she thinks it is safe to trust young Benjamin, another skeleton falls out of the closet and clatters her on the head, leaving her in a state of mild concussion till the next episode. Cowboys don’t only live in Falkirk.

How about that wedding on Coronation Street (STV, Wednesday)? Michelle’s speech at the altar to an aghast Robert was a scream. Earlier, during Robert’s bit, “Our Amy” Barlow had the measure of the event when the groom said Michelle was the sun around which he orbited. “Nah,” scoffed Our Amy.

I knew something was up when Michelle said: “It just feels so right, like in Titanic, only neither of us should have to die.” With that, and the reading out of text messages from his other fiance, she loosened his hands on the floating door and sent him into the deep. The end.