December 26, 2011 § 27 Comments
Smug-Unmarried here, I have to say it was a great day yesterday. Except for a cracking headache again (must be the latte deprivation) which I zapped eventually with more Paracetamol Extra, we all had a lovely time. Ate too much (I do so dislike people who don’t, on Christmas Day; it’s not human to be restrained on Christmas Day; any restrainers in the face of turkey and all the business, and Christmas pudding, must have the tightest of arses, that’s what I say). Went on a brisk family walk. I don’t do walks, much, if I can help it, but the one on Christmas Day is essential. A sort of penance for all the goose fat and presents. We played the names in the hat game and at 9pm, my mum and I shooed everyone else out of the telly room (because they were sniffy) to, ahhhh, bliss out in front of dare I say it Downton. I am deeply ashamed because it is patent pap, of course, but I loved every minute of it. Luckily the shame was lost on my ex-husband, who had never heard of it. A worldly fellow, what high-brow planet has he been on, one might wonder? I didn’t ask. I just told him that the Christmas special was the televisual equivalent of sitting down to polish off a whole box of Lindor chocolates to oneself.
Oh, and that scene at the end, when Matthew and Lady Mary finally get it together, and he kneels down in the snow to propose to her? Tell me 12 million, or however many, fellow plankton and, indeed, non-plankton – hearts didn’t miss a bit of a beat, or was it just me?
Shameful, indeed, as the whole thing was glorified bollocks, or just outright bloody bollocks, but wonderful bollocks at that, and occasionally… after all the shit I’ve been through and it was Christmas day, and I had asked my ex-husband to stay, so I felt I deserved a little light Lindor indulgence of the emotional sort, no?
All in all, I went to bed with a smile on my face and hoping that my very own Matthew Crawley, ho hum, may put in an appearance sometime before 25 December next year?
I doubt it very much, but hope is the thing. To live in silly, sugary but irresistible Downton-type hope.
Well, at least for a day.