Tag Archives: Sherlock

Something old, something new

Television at Christmas is like a table groaning under the weight of cake. Too much all at once. But it isn’t necessarily good cake. And it feels sort of wrong to be offered so much all at once – especially if you have other things to do – when you go so long wishing for worthwhile programmes at other times of the year.

And in reality, I have watched less than planned, and the other reality is that I have probably spent more time watching unplanned, old stuff, than the new films and series made specially for the last two weeks.

OK, I quite liked Sherlock. Many viewers didn’t, from what I’ve heard. And yes, the scriptwriters do appear to show off, which isn’t always an attractive trait. But shortly before Sherlock, we were eating our dinner in front of the television and simply needed something suitably timed to fit in right then, which is why we watched the second half of The Terminal (all right when you’ve seen the whole film before). I’m tempted to say that Tom Hanks can’t do anything wrong, and that half a Terminal trumped Sherlock.

On Christmas Eve someone else did the cooking, leaving Daughter and me with a couple of free hours as we waited to be fed. In the end we relaxed with two old Christmas episodes of NCIS, and felt much better for it. (The baby born in a garage, and DiNozzo Sr misbehaving.)

Christmas Day is a busy day without adding visual entertainment, but we obediently sat down and watched the two obvious programmes; Doctor Who and Downton Abbey.

As with Sherlock, Doctor Who was fun enough, but not as good as it could or should be.

And then it was Downton. Very silly, but oh so enjoyable! And most civilised of them to want to tie every last little thing up, with a happy ending for everyone (except for Matthew’s mothers’ new husband’s daughter-in-law).

Downton will be a hard act to follow. I reckon you could find fans to chat to all over the world. Like the Forsyte Saga, maybe, or Dallas.

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The Sign of Three

OK, as wedding speeches go, it was very longwinded. If I’d been there for real, I’d have gone out for some fresh air, or something. But watching The Sign of Three on television was reasonably entertaining.

Many fans seem to have been disappointed. I could be wrong, but comparing Benedict Cumberbatch’s modern Sherlock with the ‘original’ is surely a mistake? It’s not meant to be the same product. And Sherlock Holmes is – nearly – always an insufferable man who thinks too highly of himself.

The stag night was fun. I was impressed that Sherlock even knew he had to organise one, and roughly what it had to be about. I’m simple enough to enjoy lines like ‘he’s clueing for looks’ and I’m quite ready for more.

The Sign of Three

Last week I harboured some doubts on the tube incident which I didn’t share. Just as well. There are others who do that kind of thing so much better. I was going to say that scriptwriters never seem to get things like it right. But maybe they get it wrong on purpose? Although that would take a lot of specialist knowledge. I was merely surprised the Resident IT Consultant didn’t interrupt the viewing by pointing out how wrong they were.

Old years, new year

First Dodo and Son (hmm, good company name…) spent hours watching the extra features on Harry Potter, while making witty comments. Then they ruined my childhood. We ate the usual Indian food. Once the forgotten Daughter had been collected from her nerds’ party, we went to bed and then we woke up and ‘went’ to the New Year’s concert in Vienna. Dispatched Dodo and Son, ate again and watched Sherlock.

Spiced rice

Uppama

Scrambled eggs with tomato sauce

Chickpea salad

I never cease to marvel over the fact that the next generation willingly opt to spend New Year’s Eve with us doddery types, eating the Resident IT Consultant’s Indian cooking. It was good this year. Recently we have had time issues, but he diligently slaved over a hot stove for days (with me trailing behind, wiping, and filling the dishwasher), so we had plenty to eat.

Son had missed the last Harry Potter, so bought a copy of the DVD for Christmas. After which, the extras were enjoyed by all. It’s his childhood, when all is said and done. Also the childhoods of Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson.

That’s what got me started on mine. I was seven when I went to see Five on a Treasure Island in the cinema. I’ve never forgotten it. It started my reading career, and subsequently lead to everything else I’ve done, including coming to England first on holiday, and then to live here. And they had the nerve to laugh at the film!!!

Even the Resident IT Consultant who hardly ever laughs, was bent over in an uncontrolled fashion, red in the face, tears spurting. It wasn’t that funny! Not even the navy vessel The Gay Viking was all that funny. As I said, that was my childhood memories ruined. I could still feel the magic of that beautiful coastline and the lovely English house and the old ruins. Not to mention the ingots (otherwise known as gold bars).

Anyway, I enjoyed it. And as a punishment the amused chef was sent to pick up Daughter, missing the end…

Famous Five on Treasure Island, 1957

We slept and we woke and we breakfasted. Lounged with the Wiener Philharmoniker and Mariss Jansons. Have you noticed how conductors often look very conductor-like? I feel there is a special conductor look. Mariss must have worked slow, since we missed all the lovely credits at the end.

Then Daughter packed her bags, and – illogically – Son and Dodo were driven away by the amused chef. We settled down on the sofa with the leftovers and Sherlock, which was as good as ever. I even remembered how the last episode ended. Most unusual. Very good script by Steven Moffat, and let’s hope the howler highlighted by that darling Sam Wollaston in the Guardian wasn’t his doing.

An exciting weekend was had by all.