Downton Abbey and its undeniable appeal

Warning …… contains spoilers; do not read if you’re not up to date L

The withdrawals began almost immediately it had ended.  That sense of “What now?” pervaded our house, as I’m sure it did in thousands of homes, not only in the UK, but worldwide. I am of course talking about the phenomenon that is Downton Abbey, one of the most successful series that ITV, or for that matter any channel, has ever made.  The only thing I can liken my feelings of loss to, is when the last series of Game of Thrones came to an end but that’s another story.

I will admit to being a latecomer to Downton; I will cite moving house, moving to another country, getting married and writing 2 books as an excuse for almost missing this gem of an offering. Lame excuses indeed!

It was only after one friend too many adopted a look of horror and exclaimed, “What do you mean, you don’t watch Downton?” that I thought I had better investigate.  Knowing that I have never been a fan of the mainstream soaps, other friends had quizzed me as to my tastes in TV.

Did you watch the Pride and Prejudice series?

Of course I did

Did you like it?

Impossible not to like it, it was brilliant

Then you’ll love Downton

Will I?

Okay, did you ever watch Upstairs Downstairs in the 70’s?

Yes, I watched it with my mum

And did you like that?

Yes, as a matter of fact I did

Then you’ll love Downton – stop debating the matter and go watch it

So I did, and they were right J what HAD I been missing?

In coming late to it, we were in the enviable position of watching seasons 1-5 almost back to back. Those of you who, like us, become obsessed with good series will understand the following scenario.

It’s 2am and you’ve been watching since 8pm. The episode finishes and you both sit still, not wanting to be the one to suggest going to bed. After precisely 30 seconds, one of you will ask hopefully

“One more?”

The other one of you will feel an immense sense of relief and reply

“Go on then, just one more”

Before you know it, its 5 am and “just one more” became 3 more and you’ve devoured another season of it.

To our great delight, prior to season 6 starting, we had some dear friends come to stay with us. They had always wanted to see Downton, but had never got round to it. Cue reruns J Yes, we watched the whole thing again right from the beginning and loved every second if it, from the opening bars of music to the rolling credits at the end. And our friends? Hooked, totally hooked. 

Like it or loathe it (yes, there are people who don’t like Downton, go figure) you cannot deny the impact it has had.

In 2011, Downton won a place in the Guinness Book of Records for “Highest critical review ratings for a TV show” regularly attracting more than 10 million viewers an episode. Globally, it is estimated that Downton attracted an audience of around 160 million!

The worldwide cultural impact of Downton Abbey cannot be understated. It is reported that demand for professionally trained butlers doubled after Downton and in 2014, China opened its first professional school for trainee butlers!

All forms of life are represented in the drama. The characters you LOVE to hate, such as Thomas Barrow the evil and secretly gay footman and his sidekick the scheming personal maid Miss O’Brien. Oh how I hated those two; I would sit shouting at the TV as they smoked their cigarettes while plotting the downfall of yet another unsuspecting soul. We groaned with a collective voice as they set poor Mr Bates up and watched in almost unbearable horror as they gloated when the poor man’s life unravelled.

“I hate those two” I would say vehemently on a weekly basis, while being secretly worried as to what might happen if either of them left. Who would we hate? When the truly dreadful Miss O’Brien finally did leave, we need not have worried. Thomas was enough of a snake to fill two pairs of slimy shoes as he continued unabated in his quest to control and demean his peers.

However, who among us failed to feel some sympathy for him as he lay in the bathtub in the season finale, his wrists slashed as he came to realise the futility of his actions and the loneliness he faced as a result. Oh come on, no one’s THAT heartless!

The prize for the person I most wanted to slap went to Daisy the kitchen maid and her incessant whining about one thing or another. She was another one who had me yelling at the TV screen, usually to just shout, “Oh shut up moaning will you” ha ha. It’s a sign of good writing, when the characters have such an impact.

Then there were the good people; Mr Molesley the downtrodden and under appreciated valet who gave off an almost permanent air of a man wronged by life. Initially fairly annoying, with the chip on his shoulder so obvious it was almost visible, we warmed to him as he found his niche as the village school teacher and loved him for his kindness to the new ladies’ maid Miss Baxter.

One of my favourite characters has to be Jim Carter’s sublime portrayal of Mr Carson, the family’s faithful and utterly loyal butler. Forged from generations of decency, Carson epitomises what a British butler should be. His raised eyebrow much in evidence, and often all that was needed to question or silence any impertinence, Mr Carson wins my vote for showing us how it should be done. His marriage to the capable Mrs Hughes was one of the delights of the entire show. His ham fisted attempts to make dinner after complaining one too many times about Mrs Hughes’ home cooking had us in hysterics.

Whoever did the casting for Downton got it exactly right. I mean, what else could Mrs Patmore be apart from the “not always so jolly” cook? And as for the Dowager Duchess, played by the unparalled Maggie Smith, coupled with Penelope Wilton as Isabelle Crawley, her unlikely rival and friend – well, it made for utterly delightful viewing. The one liners from the Dowager Duchess are unforgettable, with my favourite being her pained enquiry,

“What is a weekend?”

My favourite “upstairs” character is, I’m almost afraid to admit …….. Lady Mary. I know I know, she’s haughty, unkind to Edith, and at times such a terrible snob it takes your breath away. She also can’t dress herself.

However, Mary is true to herself, what you see is what you get. She makes no apology for her birth right and jolly well lives up to the role of future heiress of Downton like billyo. She admits when she’s wrong and says sorry, though I must admit to cheering Edith on when she finally snapped and told Mary exactly what she thought of her. Despite her faults, Mary cares for the staff, which is evident in her visit to Mr Barrow and her love for Mr Carson. Yep, I like the girl J her finest hour for me (apart from saving the pigs) was taking the rather ungallant Mr Pamuk to her bed and then having to own up to her horrified mother that he had, in fact, died there! A better storyline you could not find. Priceless.

I’m also very fond of the Earl of Grantham and his lovely lady wife Cora. Naming the Earl “Donk” instead of grand papa struck such a chord, that Steve adopted it for himself when our new grandson Samuel was born. So much more original than granddad J

Part of Downton’s appeal lies in its ability to reinforce our yearning for a place and a time long gone, and irreplaceable. We WANT this to exist dammit. Not necessarily the gulf between classes (though that IS still there) nor the forelock tugging attitude of the servants. No, what I miss is the politeness of it all. I’ve never been a feminist, in fact I am unashamedly old fashioned and I happen to LIKE my husband to open the door for me. I feel sad to my core that the world where men stand up when a woman enters and leaves a room no longer exists.

I recall when I was at school, which isn’t THAT long ago, and we all had to stand up when a teacher came into the classroom. It was called respect. Imagine that now? The children would laugh in your face and no doubt claim it was infringing their rights in some inevitable way. Sigh 

Downton manages to recreate emotional situations, which we can all relate to. Death, loss, disappointment, injustice, loneliness, grief, anger, happiness and everything in between. We’ve laughed and cried along with the characters we came to know and love.

Although many of the story lines left us in tears of disbelief, Matthew and Sybil’s deaths to name but two; most of the time, people got what we felt they deserved. Mr Bates was released from prison, as was his wife Anna. The deliciously appealing Lady Rose MacClare got to marry her smiley beau Atticus, while managing to win over her one time enemy of a father in law at the same time. Edith got to keep Marigold with the full support of her family, though may I say, what WAS she thinking in letting the farmer and his wife care for her in the first place. Did we not say that one would end in tears?

Tom the one time chauffer managed against all the odds to marry Lady Sybil and Mary got to keep the estate even after Matthew’s untimely demise. Hurrah J

Yes, all in all, most of the outcomes were what we’d hoped for. However, because I’m a sucker for happy endings, here is a list of outcomes I would like to find in my Christmas stocking J

Okay, firstly the marriages ……………

Isabelle marrying Lord “Dickie” Merton

Edith marrying Bertie Pelham

Mr Moseley marrying Miss Baxter

Mrs Patmore marrying Mr Mason – don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind!

Other outcomes could include;

Daisy becoming less annoying and whiny (Apologies to Sophie McShera who plays her brilliantly)

Thomas smiling

Denker getting sacked and staying sacked

Thank you Julian Fellowes for an amazing piece of writing. 

Now then, where’s my smelling salts, I’m still mourning for Matthew

Freya 

My books Known to Social Services and Gozo Is the Grass Greener? are available via Amazon 

Cold Frankincense and Mirth

Okay own up, who here likes scented candles? Come on ladies, I know lots of you like to have those yummy smells emanating from every room in the house. I mean, there are SO many to choose from, so many different scents. 

Choices choices

It can take me half an hour or more in a shop to make my selection, while my long suffering husband Steve, returns to the aisle again and again asking, “How can you not have chosen one yet?” The reason it takes me so long, is simply because I absolutely HAVE to smell each one. I make purchases based on whether or not I pull a face and say, “Ugh” or whether I make a happy face and go, “Mmmmm that’s a nice one”.

You can't have too many candles

You need a fresh lemony one for the bathroom, a nice frangipani one in the bedroom, or maybe a vanilla or patchouli. Then, there’s the living room; chocolate, amber, coconut, all manner of berries, orange, and even fig. The list is endless J

What's not to like about a Fairy Dust candle?

Our house is always filled with candles, which at times can be a bit of a bind as lighting them all can be pretty time consuming. To get them all lit before it goes dark, I find it’s best to get a head start and begin around 3pm. No I’m exaggerating, but seriously, how long does it take to light them all?

I use good old fashioned matches as I don’t have a lighter. This adds to the time taken as often the match lights (which is kind of the least I expect from a match), but then it splutters out disappointingly before I have had time to hold it to the wick. Other times the match burns brightly, and I get over confident and try to light too many candles with it. You know exactly what I mean here right? The match is burning down to your fingers, but you think you can get one more candle lit from it – ouch, no you can’t!

I love my candles, but burnt fingers are the norm!

There have been times, especially over the festive season, where I have been known to light so many candles, we have had to open the door to let some cool air in, such has been the resulting generation of heat, complete with complaining spouse, who sits mopping his brow wearing no more than his boxers. J

While being a faithful candle lover, I have also been known to dabble with incense sticks from time to time. Now these are different smell creators altogether, and can, if not used with caution, cause watery eyes and a fair amount of coughing as they helpfully give off their pleasant, but smoky fumes. 

Pretty ......... pretty smoky

The ash is also quite annoying afterwards, as no matter how carefully I try to transport the little wooden holder to the bin, I inevitably end up with ash all over the dressing table and floor. The other drawback with incense sticks is that they always fool Steve into thinking that there is something actually burning, which in effect there is. He will suddenly sit up like a well-trained gun dog, sniff the air and declare, “Something’s burning". I then explain that it’s an incense stick, which brings an air of relief as he settles back down, with the threat of disaster averted.

More recently, I have discovered the joys of scented resin, more specifically Frankincense resin. As some of you may be aware, Steve suffers from bipolar disorder, and I was advised that the smell of frankincense can help, by producing feelings of euphoria. Worth a try I thought, so having placed my Amazon order and had it delivered, I happily ripped open the box to find little nuggets of the stuff, just waiting to provide me with a house full of its pleasing fragrance. 

Frankincense Resin

What I did not know is that you don’t as a rule, “just light” Frankincense. I stared at it for some time wondering how I actually employed it in the release of scent, before resorting to good old Google for the answer. I was fascinated, yet somewhat dismayed to find, I basically needed all sorts of other paraphernalia in order to get the best from my resin.

Special burners are required

I was advised to get charcoal sticks to burn with it, and of course special burners in which to place the resin. Sadly, patience is not one of my virtues, and so I put the problem to Steve who, as some of you are aware likes nothing more than to solve a problem for his woman, thereby confirming his undeniable man skills. Literally 3 minutes later, he had produced a receptacle, which would do the job. We placed a candle in the bottom, put the resin nobbles on top in another holder and waited. It turned out to be quite a long wait, but eventually, we detected the waft of Frankincense in the air and for a short time, I was satisfied.

I couldn’t help thinking though that I could make it burn more effectively and my chance came late last night as I was doing some writing. I fancied it would be nice to have the pleasing aroma of Frankincense in the air as I worked. Hmm, remembering how long it took to get going last time, I went for a more direct approach. Using a stone candle holder, I put a few pieces of resin in and set light to them. 

Delighted at their eagerness to burn, I added more, and before long I had a merry little blaze going on the dining room table. Of course, there were a few match sticks in the mix as well as I’d not been quite quick enough to prevent them from falling in when I lit the resin, but no matter, they were clearly helping it to burn. I continued writing, glancing at the mini inferno now and again to make sure it wasn’t getting too enthusiastic. In my infinite wisdom, I then decided to turn a brass candle holder upside down over the resin – surely it would help to tame the flames and contribute to a more even burn? 

Err no, what actually happened, was that black smoke started pouring out of the decorative star shaped holes in the side of the brass holder, and I think the word for the emitting fragrance was acrid! L

NOT what I had in mind

I tolerated it for a minute or two before admitting that it was actually out of control. I then had to root around for an oven glove (I hate oven gloves and hide them in the cupboard out of sight as I never use them) Having eventually found one, I grasped the brass holder and then danced around for a while as I tried to decide where best to set it down; after all, it was red hot. The smell of burning rubber from the oven glove was thus added to the mix. I then turned my attention to the mini Vesuvius in the stone candle holder. Foolishly (I now realise) I tried to blow it out; sigh, this was not a good idea as now I had sparks flying across the thick plastic table cloth, as well as a goodly scattering of black ash. It didn’t do my coaster any favours either.

Oops

There was nothing for it; back to the oven glove and under the tap it went, where with it was finally extinguished with a vicious hiss.

I then tried to return to working, but the resulting smoke, not to mention the disgusting smell was a pretty good inhibitor. I contemplated opening the door, but given that it was one O’clock in the morning, I knew that to open the door would be a solicitous invitation to the hundreds of giant moths which reside in these parts, not to mention, the bats, which knowing my luck would also rush happily in.

I lit a vanilla scented candle in vain – it was simply not up to the task.

I struggled gamely on for a few minutes, among the malodour of burnt brass, rubber, ash and resin, before I heard Steve stirring in the bedroom, where he was blissfully unaware of the evening’s combustible theme.

“I can smell burning” he called anxiously, ever alert for hidden dangers in the night, "is everything okay?"

And of course, not wishing to alarm him I replied, 

“No it’s fine darling, I’m just burning some of that lovely resin”

Happy Candle burning everyone J

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

As unlikely as it may seem, given my inane ramblings here, I have actually managed to get 2 books into print, thanks to the support of Faraxa Publishing. The first entitled Known to Social Services is a hard hitting fictionalised tale of my own experiences as a child protection social worker. 

The second, titled, Gozo Is the Grass Greener? Is about our experiences in moving from the UK to the lovely Maltese island of Gozo, where we lived for over four years. Both books are available from Amazon as downloads or paperbacks. 

Freya