The Doctor, Downton, a Dover bound Poirot and Dolly. Some Cash.

Along with too much food comes too much television. I wouldn’t mind having it spread out more. At least the entertainment. The food might be healthier to get over and done with, and we can go back to porridge and salad. But since I’m in a minority, I’m guessing my careful consumption of television over Christmas will not be noticed at all. Or missed.

Although, since we’re on one of those things that keeps track of who watches what and when, I have to own up to being so technically incompetent that I had the Grandmother watch Dolly Parton last night. She didn’t, but there was no way I could delete her after she went to bed.

So, it was just me and Dolly and most of the O2 arena. Nice blue dress, although having heard that she looks totally different without make-up and wig, I kept wondering what she looks like. Really. Concert was good, but I’d go mad if I had to have those bodyguards escort me everywhere.

I did actually watch a little Johnny Cash afterwards, but found it so painfully embarrassing I had to turn it off. As Roger Whittaker would say, he didn’t have Dolly’s two advantages.

Before the country greats we sat down to Poirot. Couldn’t remember much about The Clocks except for the clocks. Could have sworn that I saw bits of Brighton, and I wonder where the crescent-shaped street can be found? Possibly in Dover. Doesn’t matter. It always looks good, and this time the plot wasn’t too outrageous, either. Watched parts of it twice to allow the Grandmother to catch up with the bits she slept through.

After Christmas dinner and two lots of dishwasher on Sunday, I was more than ready to sit down with the Doctor. Despite its Narnia theme I liked it. How like a childless man to take children through a snowy landscape wearing only their dressing gowns and slippers. The only thing that grated somewhat was Matt Smith smirking ‘I know’ each time the children discovered something they liked.

A good cry was had by all at the end. Nice tree. Nice trees, in fact.

In my next life I will come back as the good Dowager at Downton. Those one-liners are a dream. (In my life as a witch I’m much too kind to utter anything like that. Naturally.)

Didn’t expect Matthew and Mary to get their act together quite so soon. And I still want to know what happened to Patrick from Canada. My hopes for Edith and her beau with the trembling smile have grown a little. Might be a case for the ouija board. Shame about Nigel Havers. He’d have been a good addition to this upperclass zoo.

I’m one of those who didn’t mind all that much about the slipping standards of season two, but it was certainly noticeable how much better the Christmas episode was. We’ll have more of the same for next year, please.

Another end to Downton Abbey

Well, I thought Matthew looked like a sad vampire at the end, but apparently Daughter didn’t. His colouring suggested he was next to come down with the Spanish flu. The only thing about this killing off of characters is that while you can work out who will be needed in the next series, you know they will live. And that doctor is rather easy with his patients’ futures.

Who’d have thought I’d feel even a little bit sorry for Thomas? I know. I will regret this as soon as we return.

I’m also about to join Sam Wollaston in the Guardian with my dislike for Mr Bates. Not the fictional character, just the actor. They are either toying with us and Mr Bates will prove to be a truly awful man. Or, this lovely character is being portrayed by someone quite fishy looking. Poor Mrs Bates II.

What happened to Patrick? There was no mention of him, even in a pejorative way. Has he been forgotten already, or will he make claim to Downton again at some point?

And why do I keep asking you questions? Does anyone know?

I love Granny. ‘I do hope I’m interrupting something.’

Downton again

Well, they need to keep Matthew alive, don’t they? We decided he can be allowed to be injured, but has to stay alive. The question is who they are going to sacrifice? And who, if anyone, deserves a white feather. I’d have done anything to get one, if it had been me.

In my next life I will be the Dowager Maggie Smith. She’s wonderful! Awful, but wonderful. I thought perhaps that Matthew’s mother was getting a little too aggressive in sending people off to the war.

Mary has grown on me. Can’t quite make out her spiteful sister. I feel sorry for her half the time and hate her the rest. And the budding nurse was never interested in the chauffeur, after all. Oh well.

Love Mrs Hughes. There’s something about those devious women who will stop at nothing to look after their family. Let’s hope Mrs Bates comes to a sticky end, and preferably soon. O’Brien hasn’t improved, but for a moment it was almost possible to feel sorry for Tom. And Daisy has grown up.

We had far too many stops for refreshments. Next week we’ll watch afterwards and save half an hour in commercials.

More Eurovision, quizzes and missed programmes

Speaking of Eurovision as we where, we had the pleasure of catching – very briefly – a programme called Skavlan, which my encyclopaedic brain identified as something I’d heard of before. It’s another of those ‘pratshows’ as they call chat shows in Swedish, although this one is Norwegian. Or is it? Could be that it’s just Skavlan himself who’s Norwegian and happens to ‘prat’ in Norwegian on a Swedish show. Or not.

Doesn’t matter, as we barely watched it at all. Daughter found the language and the ‘pratty’ subtitles less than enchanting and asked permission to switch channels. Before she did, we caught the Norwegian contribution to this year’s Eurovision Song Contest, which looked really, quite, well, African. Upbeat music sung by someone with a very African looking name. When she came to be interviewed, however, she sounded thoroughly Norwegian. So, all well and good.

We found some sort of quiz show, second half of. I was told off for trying to show off, when all I did was answer the questions.

Before these bits of entertainment on a Friday night (I believe Fridays are the new Saturdays for staying at home and having a cosy evening in front of the telly) we had caught the last two thirds of På Spåret, which strangely enough I’d never watched before, despite reading about it often. It’s another quiz programme, with celebrity contestants. Not that I’d heard of them, but they seemed nice enough. We learned things about Haparanda and Acapulco that we didn’t know before.

And, it’s funny, but after Saturday’s heat of the ESC we hung on in front of the box, and were treated to episode one of Downton Abbey. We missed it at home, due to some other programme having the temerity to be on at the same time, and Downton Abbey lost on that occasion.

But, thanks to our travels we got to watch what everyone had talked about on Facebook and elsewhere, and it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, we liked it. Now all we have to do is find the rest of it.

I see that Zen is on tonight. Episode one. That, too, was a loser in the channel war at home, so maybe I will..?