Bill sometimes finds that a column is too melancholy. (Poor Bill! When we run into people whom he hasn’t met they say, “No need to introduce Bill. We already know him from your columns!”)
Mel Tormé, nicknamed “the velvet fog,” wrote “The Christmas Song” about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. He entitled his memoirs It Wasn’t All Velvet. From simple pleasures such as sunrise watching and laughing at Squirrelie’s antics to the complex ones of great art and human relationships I’ve had a rich and mostly contented life. (Squirrelie has been very naughty. We left the garage door up, and he dragged the plastic birdseed can out into the yard and chewed holes in it.) However, I can’t be “Little Rose Mary Sunshine” all the time. Also, you have to focus on one viewpoint when you’re limited to 650 words!
I, too, have had enough of nostalgia. It’s time for some fun.
One of my friends showed up at the Benton House when a group of us took down the Christmas decorations. We admired her tee shirt that said, “Free John Bates!” under his picture. John Bates is the Earl’s valet in Masterpiece Theater’s “Downton Abbey” that airs on PBS on Sunday evening. Bates is in prison for the murder of his ex-wife. (I think I know who was responsible for her death. It’ll be fun to find out if I’m right.)
“Downton Abbey” is downright addictive. Its audience continues to grow because of word of mouth. All kinds of people are hooked on it — young and old, male and female. One of my grandsons and his girlfriend are devotees. A male member of the Board of T.L.C. the transitional living house for abused women and their children that Vicki manages, said, “Don’t plan any meetings during “Downton Abbey”! Fellow addict, First Lady Michelle Obama, requested season three before it aired here and invited some of the stars to the White House. (Now now, don’t quibble. Were I the First Lady, I would have done the same thing!) One of my nieces who had the flu got out of bed, sat on a straight chair and watched this year’s first episode on a little TV in her kitchen because she was afraid she’d fall asleep if she watched it from her bed.
How in the world does a television series attract such a cult following? It’s so good, that’s why! “Upstairs, Downstairs” was excellent, but “Downton Abbey” is far better. It’s a thrilling soap opera about the rich and their servants with a plot full of twists and turns and fascinating characters. It features designer clothing for both women and men and lovely food, furniture and art. Its gorgeous setting is Highclere Castle and its thousand acres of grounds. The real owner is a descendent of Lord Carnarvon who financed the King Tut expedition and was there when the tomb was opened.
And the splendid actors! Who could beat Maggie Smith who won an Oscar for “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie” when she was young and gorgeous? Now she’s wrinkled and old, albeit dressed to the nines, in her role as the dowager Countess. She personifies the stiff upper lip, straight back and delicious sarcasm of the English.
She reminds me of Bill’s aunt who said, “If someone treads on your heel while you’re standing in line, you turn, glare at them and say, ‘Chahming!’” She detested the French and railed against the tunnel under the English Channel, saying, “It’ll just allow more of those French rats to invade jolly old England!” When we planned to go to France she said, “Why evah would you want to go theah. Theah’s nothing theah for you. Much better to stay heah in jolly old England!”
More to come. If you want to watch “Downton Abbey” you should buy the first two seasons as it would be difficult to catch up with its wealth of characters and complicated plot. wclarke@comcast.net