Downton Abbey

You know those shows where everyone keeps telling you, “it’s so great; you HAVE to watch it,” or, “You are going to love it. Watch it,”? Well. Usually, I don’t like it at all. I’m not being a rebel. It’s just that usually the how doesn’t live up to the hype. I didn’t build the hype. I’m not the Great White Hype, which leads me to a favorite quote:

“My father used to say ‘laugh and the world laughs with you; cry, and I’ll give you something to cry about you little bastard!'”
I wish I was that good of a writer. Anyhow. To the point of this post. Downton Abbey. Mr. Bates. Lady Granthum. Lady Mary. Matthew Crawley. Lady Sybil. I love them all. Someone said “you HAVE to watch this show” so I did. And it worked. I love them. I’m beside myself with the waiting. I haven’t a clue when the next show is on and when season four will be available on DVD. But I want to go back and re watch them until it does. 
Why? Because it makes the new British accent in my head justifiable.
 If you’ve a hankering for a not so simpler time and a great look into the rich life of the early 20th century, check out Downton Abbey. Mention my name and receive nothing whatsoever. Not even a wink or an atta girl or a jolly good show young chap. But you might decide you are suddenly happy you aren’t rich and yet still want old lady Granthum as your Gram. She’s brilliant.