Ambivalence about bonnets

I can't say I was actively looking forward to Cranford, the ABC's latest BBC bonnet drama.

But I was planning on watching it.

I love a good bit of historical drama especially when it has a decent budget and nice clothes and the sort of high production values the BBC sees fit to lavish on such things. (Thank you BBC!! If national telly licensing will save the Australian television drama industry I say "bring it on!") One of my favourite games is playing "spot the star of British stage and screen in fancy dress". And if it's based on a book I haven't read, well then there'll be a surprise at the end for once, won't there?

But it must be said, Cranford did not start well.

Dame Judi Dench, Imelda Staunton and other famous older actresses were running round in big skirts and bonnets arguing over whose gossip was more extraordinary? Not nearly as funny as I think I was expected to find it. And my Beloved agreed.

In fact, when the phone rang 15 minutes in, we both lunged for the handset. He was extremely disappointed to find it was for me.

But then I persisted, thinking "it's got to improve. Dame Judi, Michael Gambon and Julia Sawahla and the brother from Party Animals who isn't going to be the next Doctor aren't THAT hard up are they?"

It seemed a slim hope as Victorian novel cliche of dutiful daughter giving up love followed cliche of matchmaking stepmother followed new big city doctor trying to win over wary locals. Yawn.

But then something changed. I came to trust in the magic of the personable young people falling in love and by the time of the cough in the morning becoming the dangerous fever that night I was hooked. (this isn't really a spoiler because THIS IS A VICTORIAN NOVEL but all the same stop now if you don't want to know) By the time of the harrowing deathbed scene I was a teary blubbery mess.

Well done Mrs Gaskell! That did the trick.