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.

Shock. Shock.

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.