Mind you, unlike other more Pollyanna folk, I'm afraid hyperbole like "explosive" and "heartbreaking" are worrying to a certain extent (okay, a huge extent, as to the fate of the characters and whether or not TPTB will eff it up by pushing the concept so far it snaps), my cynical nature is of a rather more pursed wait and see attitude.
Especially as I've been burned badly by Auntie Beeb's hyperbole of late. As in being promised Torchwood would be "dark" and "adult" when in fact it was infantile and purile, and Robin Hood was going to be "realistic" and "punk". Yeah, and I'm the Queen of the May, as Dalziel is so fond of saying.
Realistic? I damn near ruptured something when I heard them say that. And punk is so quaintly old fashioned these days, closer to where Sam finds himself stuck than today.
And Robin certainly isn't that punk, not at least as I understood it, though points for being both pretty and vacant.
Or, to be totally grumpy and old, if these shows with their clueless and screaming characters are representative of yoof today, I'll be with Capt. Jack and climbing into the cars with the CO, ta.
But I really want to get this last fic done before it's too late, and I've only got a few weeks to do it and it's a bugger because this time I know there are missing scenes as yet to be committed to paper. Probably because it's a sliier story and harder to write. It's one big Belle and Sebatian song really, or maybe that's just what I listen to when I try to write it.
This is the big happy ending so the pressure is on. It's where Sam finally tells Gene he loves him. Not the Mr Darcy styled first admission, you know, against his better judgement and common sense and all reason and he actually finds Gene and everything about him very annoying indeed but my god he can't keep his prick down when he's around him. Gene's already heard that version.
This one is the 'you are my heart and soul and I live and breathe you and ache when we're apart I love you' declaration of eternal yearning.
As you can see, no pressure. But I do work best to a deadline, so here's hoping. (Though I might cheat and just go for "Well, then.") ;)
Meanwhile last night was the last cool night for days/weeks to come (it's going to get past 40 in my parts this weekend) so it was the last chance to watch a dvd, but I just couldn't choose, and I was knackered (and starving) so I just put on Midsomer Murders and let it work its somnambulistic magic, which it did.
I noted with bemusement that it had the same producer as Ultimate Force. Two more disparate shows I could not imagine, but while it would be easy (and satisfying) to imagine the lads taking out Midsomer in a death match, I'm not so sure. Those Midsomer types are very sneaky and it would be entirely their style to poison the lad's tea before they ever had a chance to lock and load.
But all this imagining of lavender jam middle England taking out the SAS is so Avengers it hurts and I realise too late I should have been watching classic old British B/W stuff instead of tinkering with modern trifles. Sigh.
It's the Old Spice of Life
In Tufty's club
On TV: The Peacock is feeling proud again, and makes the renewals to prove it
Some Bling for Your Blog
Ashes to Ashes
Lethal secrets of 1918 flu virus
Top Gear crash shown
Big Brother row goes global
Conserving the Lutyens cathedral model
"Jane Eyre" restored to full glory
'Bambi' escapes from icy lake
Half-human, half-animal: return of the girl who was lost in the wild for 18 years
Hammond crash pictures released
White beetle dazzles scientists
Chris Smith: The BBC deserves better than this
The green cleaning guide
How to become more attractive
Brosnan takes a gamble on book adaptation
Time to lose jobs to the net