“You should never take anything I say seriously.”
- Lady Mary, Downton Abbey
I am a great admirer of Julian Fellowes. My first exposure to him was his foppish portrayal of the Prince Regent in The Scarlet Pimpernel (which, incidentally, is required viewing for my children and will eventually make it to the list I’m sure). I loved Gosford Park, and I swallowed his novel Snobs down whole. His screenplay of The Importance of Being Earnest is common viewing at my parents house, and most people I know liked The Young Victoria. I’m currently knee deep in his latest novel Past Imperfect with no signs of slowing. And like most people, I enjoy Downton Abbey, his latest achievement.
Alright. That’s not true.
I’m sucking down the outrageous drama in great, gasping gulps. There. Never say I lie to you, kittens.
One of the worst things about being separated from J. is that he gets to taunt me about all the programming I miss on this, the wrong side of the pond. Not only did he get the entire series of Downton months ahead of me, he’s just finished up with the second series of Sherlock. It’s going to affect our marriage soon, if we’re not careful, especially since J. is notoriously closed lipped about spoilers. It’s very annoying.
Meanwhile, I’m hilariously worked up over the personal life choices of entirely fictional characters.
Although, to be fair, the mark of any good work is whether or not you care about the characters or plot. So I suppose that anything that makes me want to throw something at the television whenever someone does anything foolish must be good. Or I’m just someone who hates dillydallying and wants Lady Sybil to run off with her hot Irish chauffeur already. Either is possible.
And that, my dears, is how I spent my long weekend. Let’s not judge one another.