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Becoming
TV watching is changing a little bit for me since moving to our new old house. There are fewer places to escape to in this house. So, after supper dishes and Jeopardy, instead of taking off to another part of the house to find something to do, I stay in the chair. Dave knows sitting in a chair in front of the TV isn’t my first choice, so, he subscribed to Netflix hoping we might find something we could enjoy together. Based on family recommendations, we tried Heartland. We watched it every night for several weeks over the winter, and we both enjoyed it. I was becoming a TV series fan!
Next we tried Father Brown Mysteries and loved the plot and characters. We watched them all and I was becoming a mystery fan.
Now we’re watching Midsomer Murders, also a British production. It’s so British we don’t always catch every word, but I laugh aloud at punch lines, and really enjoy the characters, who drink a lot of tea. I especially admire the well-crafted writing. I’m becoming a fan of British TV.
I wish I could write great mysteries myself with characters like Father Brown and Director Chief Inspector Barnaby. I admire the writing styles, the plot lines, and the character development; I admire the writers’ abilities to draw me in and keep me focused. Lasting 90 minutes instead of 30, there is plenty of rich, unrushed layering going on. As a result, until Barnaby lays his investigation on the table in the final few minutes, over another cup of tea, of course, one never knows who the guilty party is. I’m becoming a mystery-writing scholar!
The stories all take place in Midsomer or other neighboring English villages. These are quaint places, some with thatched roofs, cottages covered in roses, manor houses, and dirt roads meandering through forests, past old churches, ancient cemeteries, and other mysterious places I love to wander in my imagination, and where dead bodies are found.
It might be that I’m becoming a TV fan! Yet, I’d still rather be outside, going somewhere, or doing something, creating something, or digging a hole. But it’s so hot, sitting in a house cooled with AC with an overhead fan whirring above me, seems like a good enough idea for now. The fan ruffles the pages of The Chronicles of Narnia, the book I’m reading, while waiting for evening TV mysteries. I think I’ve truly become a fan.