And I had started to feel quite left out of the whole thing.
All these people could not be wrong, right?
So out I went to the Netflix account I have hardly used for this past year … and loaded it up with Season 1 of Downton Abbey.
I am told that once the last of season three is shown, season two will be available on Netflix … once the contract has been negotiated … or so says the nice lady who talked to me from Netflix last night.
I invited my friend Texas Linda (who else?) over to munch on pizza and watch the first season.
I absolutely laughed out loud at the introduction of Violet and Isobel … the two older women.
Introduction: “Mrs. Crawley, may I introduce Lady Grantham.”
Mrs Crawley: “What should we call each other?”
Lady Grantham: “Well, we could always start with Mrs. Crawley and Lady Grantham.”
This is a totally wonderful series. Great lines, great costume, great characters, great setting.
Tomorrow we will finish at least Season 1. Same bat time, same bat channel. I promised I would not watch any other episodes before then.
We stopped after episode four today … and of course I have questions …
Matthew has sparkly eyes for Mary. Is she pregnant by the Turkish Man who died in her bed? Will she marry Matthew? That would certainly solve a lot of problems, eh?
The last thing on the last episode I just watched has the middle (?) daughter … Sybil … entering the room wearing her latest frock … trousers.
Somehow I think she and the new chauffeur are going to be involved somehow in future episodes. Politically? Or otherwise?
Will Daisy figure out that Thomas is gay? I had him pegged in about 10 seconds.
And most importantly … What is a weekend?
At least now I will know what I am talking about on the radio … when I read the promo for the show After Abbey which I guess is shown here right after Downton Abbey airs.
And although I kind of feel like that last person to come to the Downton Abbey bandwagon … better late than never.