Cause all I wanted to do was curl up in bed for a guilt free wet weekend of tv.
Thursday: Nope. Nothing doing. I was supposed to be going home at 11am but had to stay on until five and was lucky to get out then. Thank goodness most of management were absent, so I was able to just get on with it. Got through the day by clenching up, and boy, I'm feeling it now, i can tell you. Got home, set PVR, went to bed.
Friday: Nope. It was sunny, so despite being in bad shape I dragged myself up and out and staggered about doing the washing (leaving groovy bloodstains everywhere, to my rather cruel delight) and carrying the buckets of water about, until I finally got help in that dept (cf bloodtstains everywhere). Worse, I'd forgotten to recharge my dvd player so there was nothing to do but shiver over the morning papers between rounds, and being generally very sorry for myself, though it warmed up a bit towards the end.
I did however manage to stagger inside just in time for Bergerac. I'd gotten the boxset for my birthday but had not had time to crack it open. It wasn't as bad as I feared it might be, not having seen it for absolute ages, and yes, there's a great deal of cringeworthy antique coppering and 80s fashion crimes to poke fun at, but still, enjoyed it far more than I should have. Monday's episode was even more hilarious, including a whole trouserless Bergerac subplot (subplot, I tell ya) that's gonna haunt me if I'm awake for Midsomer this Friday) and Bergerac stalking into a bar playing Chant No 1 and thumping a bloke (a gay bar, as it happened), which probably isn't that funny but it was close enough to the Ashes trailer to raise a giggle.
Then I fell asleep, all sorry for myself. I'm not sure, but I think I watched Rebus and Vincent. I'd seen both episodes before so I'm not sure if I actually watched 'em, or bits of 'em. Never mind, I'm sure they were suitably gritty.
Saturday: Nope. Family enagements, no less. I never, ever have family engagements but there I was, propped up at a barbie, swilling red wine like it was cordial, being the usual wreck I am. I think I caught an episode of The Sweeney though.
Sunday: No, yes, maybe. Watered the garden because I thought for sure that would bring on rain in ways that going to a bbq just didn't (but should have). Nope. I did, however go on strike and disappeared into my room with chocolate bounty to indulge in Rupert Fest '09. Or, in other words, catching up on the episode of Spooks I missed, then settling down to the 39 Steps and Whitechapel. Both were excellent. I was all cross, and maybe that made me enjoy them more, maybe it was the sugar high, maybe it was just Rupert. Bless him, he is a dependable chap. Always handsome, always putting in a solid, workmanlike performance. Nothing fancy, but that's why I love him. Mercifully little in the way of arty or experimental in the RPJ CV, so I need not cringe unnecessarily as I slip the dvd into the slot (unlike some actors, and you know who you are). One can always trust that a Rupert dvd will do what it says on the tin. And so it was.
Now I must admit I was a great fan of that early Hannay series of yore, so yore I can barely remember it yet the name glows warmly in my heart, so Rupert wasn't quite my Hannay, but he was a damn good Hannay, I must say, and they were erasonably faithful (as far as I can remember, I mean, it's been ages). And I do have a soft spot for boys own beat the Boche adventures (in fact I even have a small genre collection of secret German spy rings operating in Scotland, weirdly enough). Too bad they won't be filming the other books (though I could recommend a few blond posh actors, if need be - grin). I gotta say, I loved every minute of it.
Whitechapel was also fun. I could see why my friend was concerned that Rupes, taking Sam Tyler's by-the-book bossiness and OCD traits to entirely new levels, was gonna get himself shoved in a locker by the other cops, but it was very, very funny how brittle and unbending Rupes won them over, one at a time (Rupes had his Ray removed from the equation though, which made it easier, I think). The plot was really, really obvious when you think about it later, and the ending is worthy of the cop out hall of fame, but at the time I was carried along, oh my, yes. And I didn't mind the boxes all being ticked, ie, gruff elder copper who takes the new Rupert (as in naff greenhorn officer) under his wing, the Ripper freak who becomes suspect numero uno, the youngest copper who gets all man crush on Rupes. It was silly, but it really worked, and that's the main thing. Even the Rupert discovering his inner copper and pleased to be condemned to the backstreets forever bit was naff, but cheerily so. And the lads fetching him his green tea at the end? So much love.
Alas, no more of that, either. Which is a pity, though I think they'd be stretching the premise a little if they'd made more and just how many posh coppers prowling the streets of Blighty with their rough, working class partners, do we really need on telly?
Oh, I'm sure there's always room for one more. Speaking of which, I watched another episode of Lewis. This one I liked far less than others. It was the one where they find out who left the tyre tracks on Mrs Lewis and while I'm half relieved to have it sorted out so mundanely, a part of me is rather disappointed (especeially as shows tend to go off the boil once the arc is dropped and that's pretty much the sole claim to an arc Lewis had). More irritating was it seemed that the Lewis/Hathaway friendship seemed to have slithered down a snake to be a great deal colder and uncomfortable than it is in other episodes (like, say, the one before it). Okay, possibly not as annoying to the casual viewer who isn't trying to shoehorn her fic into incerasingly convoluted canon, nor watching it with increasingly frustrated slash goggles, but still. The blowing hot and cold of all the relationships, personal or professional or otherwise, does irk me somewhat in the series. So it bothered me, a bit, and it's a pity, because quite obviously it was a Big Episode. More of a damp squib. Oh well. That said, it was fun to watch my boys again. Would that I had time to finish those silly, increasingly AU fics.
There was some Top Gear and another rather pointless Poirot. Now I understand they're being completist now, but lawks, I can see why these were left on the shelf until now. Poor John Hannah. Remember when he used to do serious cop shows? Now he does this. Campy turns in costume dramas. Sigh.
Monday: Yahtzee. Like a good little puritan, I eschwed getting online for some hard yard work. I know a great many folk refuse to consider gardening exercise but they probably don't have to do extreme weeding like I do. I swear the back of the garden has grown into enough of a jungle that I wouldn't be at all surprised to find some D List British celebs lurking in the undergrowth, with the rest of the vermin. So there was much hacking and slashing and sweating buckets and I was only stopping for a lunch break when a friend dropped over the latest Dr Who episode. Yes! Squee! Thank you!
Better than that, it started raining, pouring, even, so there was nothing to do but sit on the couch, eat chocolate and watch Dr Who. Now if I say it was like Tomb Raider meets On The Buses it might seem churlish because at the time I was in full sugar hyped squee mode. Oh man, I'm gonna miss David's Doctor, for all his flaws. And yes, the episode had its flaws, but since I'd resigned myself to not seeing it, bugger that. SQUEE!
Best dark rainy afternoon ever!
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