A new, but old, obsession

Sometimes, I rather like being late to the party…

In the run up to Christmas, Sunday night’s Twitter feeds were full of discussions regarding the impact of WW1 and the Spanish Flu. My mother and sister engaged in hearty debates about people who were total strangers to me. The evening of Christmas Day was spent watching two hours of a TV show I knew next to nothing about.

I talk, of course, of Downton Abbey. In my defence, there are plenty of reasons why I’d not joined the rest of the nation (and the Americans) in period drama frenzy:
1. It was on at 9pm on a Sunday. During series one I would have been at the pub after church at this time. Last autumn, I was en route home from church, preparing myself for early Monday morning Greek classes.
2. I dislike ITVplayer with a passion. It crashes, there are lots of ads, it’s just generally irritating which doesn’t entice me to keep up with shows on it.
3. I have a contrary nature and don’t always like to do as society dictates.

However, given my family’s passion for it, it seemed likely I’d enjoy it. We are united in our love of certain (note: ‘certain’) ITV period dramas – namely Brideshead Revisited, Jewel in the Crown and Tenko – so if they like something, I probably will too. When series one of Downton appeared on my sister’s Christmas list, I thought this was a cunning opportunity – by bestowing it upon her, there was likely to be the possibility of borrowing it in the very near future.

The boxset was duly handed over the night we went to Grease. I finally got around to watching it a week later and within 24 hours had watched 5 episodes. Dressing for church the next morning, I watched another. (As I tweeted: “Getting dressed while watching Downton gives one the illusion of living in a country mansion & having servants to help dress one…”) I was beginning to worry that I’d suffer withdrawal symptoms, given that I had just one episode left and no season two on the horizon. Fortunately, our worship leader came to the rescue, promising to bring it in. [Sadly, he’s now forgotten it twice, and I am now suffering withdrawal, hence this post.] As he described it, Downton is like chocolate – not necessarily the best thing ever made, but it meets a need and is utterly addictive.

To try and keep withdrawal at bay, I’ve returned to the Comic Relief Downton spoof from last year. 12 months ago I watched this and found it faintly amusing; this evening I’ve been laughing heartily – if you haven’t seen it and consider yourself to be a Downton¬†aficionado, do indulge.

And, just in case you’re worried about my current obsessive state – what with the egg hunting and period drama watching – it’s ok. When things are time limited, obsessing over them is absolutely fine. Honest.

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