I will miss it though, and the Cranford ending was very telling, for it was terribly soapy, in its own way. Girlie tv in disguise.
And Mads was looking mighty, mighty fine. Which is why it was a shock when I switched across to Casino Royale and there was old, fat Fischer. Oh, Mads! Tv is so unkind, aging an actor a decade at the flick of a switch. But still, oh, Mads!
Age has wearied even him, though it was fun to see some of the old Fischer ticks pop up, from time to time (not that Fischer ever got anyone to confess quite like that - but I bet he thought about it).
Casino Royale also features Brutus Moneypenny, and I am thoroughly enjoying this encore (for me) screening of Rome. Dear old Titus. Fortune's fool indeed.
Since I've been home a lot with the dreaded lurgy, going through three boxes of tissues and a bed sheet and my poor computer screen now looks like Jackson Pollack has been at it, I've been catching up on the To Watch pile (except when I went to the SQL class, which was not fun, being all feverish, and having dorkwit next to me who had to sound out his code and clap excitedly whenever he got it - some people just never graduate from Romper Room, do they?).
Anyway, I've been dipping into my Avenger box sets (my Philip Madoc and Geoffrey Palmer collections grow ever more extensive) and thoroughly enjoying the Pinter-esque banter. Funny I should say Pinter-esque, remarks Peanut Gallery, as young Pinter himself was rumoured by hearsay to have some tenuous association with early Avengers. Too precious if true, because I'm not lying about it being Pinter-esque.
I'm also bemused at how I have to turn to 1963 telly to watch something grownup. There's none of that childish the writers never had a date will they won't they here. It's very obviously yes they probably have, and yes, they probably will again, what's it to you? It's ever so saucy, but never cheap or bolted on.
Unlike modern efforts. I know it's a cheap shot to mention Torchwood here (fish/barrel), but they did invite it, describing themselves as "adult". As if. In what universe? I was expecting Pinter, they gave me Benny Hill. Carry on Up The Rift. Sigh.
So yeah, loving The Avengers and the saner than Spooks these days plots and really, just for whatever glib line deigns to drop from Steed's lips. He is so naughty (but never juvenile). It's a pity that as the girls got younger and Steed got older that he assumed a more paternal air, because here, well, the back and forth is so good I often have to replay it just to resavour it.
It's amazing how much more clever (and saucy) mere dialogue can be when the shows were constrained by the guidelines of the time, and writers cheerfully pushed the envelope (mind you, when the Americans bought in, out went the saucy dialogue, in came the giant robots. Sigh).
Also caught up on Cranford, which I adored. I watched it the other week when I was all hot water bottle-ly and only something bonnety would do.
Watched Leaners, too, for a much needed DT fix, but alas it was as dire as the reviews said it was. Had to remove the bitter aftertaste by watching DT on Top Gear instead. That was fun. He's a saucy boy when unscripted, too. DT should ad lib more often, imho. (Oh, give me that, a Doctor in the mould of early B/W Steed, all big bad wolfie with it).
Have also been lying in bed reading comics and watching viewmasters, like I was seven or something. I thought it was just me but now the Peanut Gallery is down with it and he was pressed to indulge in a lunch of Cheezels. A flu that makes you behave like you're seven? Weird.
Also had a mini Kiss Kiss Bang Bang fest, both the fillum (love it! was just talking about it the other week) and the Torchwood episode (look, it's Spike, being, well, Spike, colour me stunned and it was very much like one of those Buffy season openers that show just how the gang are useless without the Hero, when I'm quite sure they'd muddle through). Did not watch Thunderball from which the phrase came, though.
Oh look, back to Bond. How eleptical of me. Tired after yesterday. The Byotch was on me like some fiendish Nazi interrogator, trying to bully me into ceding good practice to her nonsense, but I held firm. I'm afraid though, because everyone breaks after the third. She was on me none stop for hours, trying every which way to trick me into giving up, but I won't have it. I have principles. I refuse to let insane ego win over common sense.
But oh man, I crawled straight into bed last night, but not before catching Time Team (there was no ironing to be done because everything is still damp and hanging up, making the loungeroom look like a Chinese laundry, only without the pig people, and what is it with Doctor Who and pig people anyway?) and Who Do You Think You Are, which was another harrowing holocaust one.
Meanwhile, disasters around the world, blah blah blah (shoddy building practices in China, and if Burma had oil fields the US would be in like Flynn with reinforcements of good will, as they used to say ever so archly on Yes Prime Minister). What's really got my goat this week is Catherine Tate being dudded out of that comedy award. Not that I'm a particular advocate of Ms Tate (I've yet to see DDW so I couldn't possibly comment) but the fact that she was dudded because Robbie Williams would only award the prize to Ant & Dec, well, that's just, that's just degrees of awful I've not encountered since my old school prize days (and that was a govt school at that, but only the chosen select were allowed to share the stage with the visiting dig.).
And if that wasn't enough, then there was the news that the BCC kept all the Children In Need charity money. Good grief, what is it with UK tv these days? Does the BBC Chair go around in a cape, twirling his Snidley Whiplash moustache?
Mind you, I'd love to see Ofcom rip through our local telly. That would be a fun spectator sport.
Oh yeah, also been watching a lot of Buffy, because I've been nipping off work on time/early (on account of lurgy). It's the first Angelus arc - still a classic. So sad that I can now recite the dialogue by rote. Speaking of Buffy, picked up a few comics. Yes, I've been back here two and a bit months and I've finally slunk off down to the comic shop. Oh, happy happy joy joy. I gave up comics a couple of years back (no time, no money) and though I still have no time or money, I feel the need for a bit of four colour fun before turning in for the night. And, loving it.
Friday: Honestly, have not done much or seen much. Last night I intended to get online but a rare break of sunshine had finished off last Sat's washing (Peanut Gallery was home sick to hang it out) and it was still warm from the line when I started ironing it (while Time Team dug up an Iron Age hillfort in Conrwall). Alas, I ten fell asleep during Stocki, thus negating my difficult choice between Inspector Rex and Bones. Neither, as it happens. It's the unpeppy flu pills, because if you ever want to see washing up by two barely conscious people, you should have seen last night.
Tonight though it's Spooks and Silent Witness, so I will be sucking down the coffee, oh yes indeedy.
Ack. The Man From Sydney Water is coming around at 8am tomorrow to inspect the property. Ouch. I mean, I know I'm an early riser, but it's not by choice, and, well, ouch. Still, it must be done and I do need to droughtproof amd whatever the place, especially since all of Mum's azaleas along the side fence died. Worse still, my only memory of my grandfather is sitting by his knee by those very azaleas, so I was not best pleased, to put it mildly. And it wasn't like I've not been out at all hours tipping buckets on them, for years now as the drought endures, but they just turned up their metaphorical toes and carked it, all last week. Must have had a high wind through that I wasn't aware of, and I just don't get to see the garden during the week because it's dark when I leave and dark when I get home, so I wasn't to know. We just kept the greywater coming on dead sticks. Sigh.
So 8am it is, little soldier that I am. Hopefully my dinner engagement will go off (has been postponed three times) so I'll have a treat as well as taking my medicine.
It's hell being a superhero
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