Tag Archives: Iain Glen

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.

Dolly Parton at the O2

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.

Geoffrey Palmer and David Suchet in The Clocks

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.

The Doctor and Lily

Cyril

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.

Madge

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

Maggie Smith

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.

Downton Christmas

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.’

Flesh and Stone

And the bishop had the Doctor’s back. It’s not what they normally do, but in the end I quite liked the bishop.

Doctor Who

Poor Amy spent the second of the angel episode busy not looking at the angels. Or at anything. I could just see how those converses were going to take a tumble, seeing as she couldn’t see. But the soil was too well raked. They need to rough it up if they are going to be face first in the stuff again.

Angel

I know Daughter was busy counting kisses for David Tennant. Was this Matt Smith’s first Doctor kiss? And if they are going to use the phrase ‘getting married in the morning’ much more, I’ll break into song. It’s almost an irresistible urge. I’ll be Bryn Terfel.

Scared Bob was fairly scary at the end, I thought. It was the mild way he had of speaking, coupled with the things he had to say, which made it shivery stuff. Enough to make anyone crack up?

The crack

Sorry about that very bad crack. And sorry about that one, too.

The Time of Angels

I was going to wait until next week. After all, what’s the point blogging about half an episode? But as those Facebook nerds said – immediately – it was quite a good one. So I can at least put a couple of photos on here.

Amy, the Doctor and River Song

Those angels were actually quite creepy last time round, and with Amy rubbing her eyes, I now have an urge to do likewise. The clerics were almost Philip Pullman-ish, and sacred Bob went to being scared Bob. There was the quote, which I don’t remember perfectly, but it was something about a verger and his explosives.

The Doctor and Father Octavian

I’m content to wait for next week’s instalment, but Daughter has theories. Well, she’s allowed to.