Saturday, 3 May 2008
Telly
It's only two hours until the tippy-final episode of Doc Martin, which means it's only three hours until the teat that has been nursing my misanthrope-in-Cornwall fantasy will be ripped untimely from my mouth. And then what? What will enliven my dreams of migrating to Cornwall and bullying the natives with sage medicinal advice then, eh?
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Erm, sorry about that teat metaphor. Sorry for using the word "teat". Nothing wrong with plain old "nipple". Sorry.
Fear not, a fourth season has been commissioned.
I question how Dominic Minghella can be responsible for the joy that is Doc Martin and the runty little hellspawn that is Robin "Bind Me With Electrical Tape and Leave My Body in a Ditch by the Roadside" Hood.
A fourth season! Praise the Lord! I feel egregiously deprived of my happily-ever-after.
They have a goodly lot of wallpaper in that there Cornwall.
I like "teat".
What they have in Cornwall (albeit I have spent all of a day there): lots of different kinds of dogs, quaint signs to rival Wales, crows, really gloriously pointy rocks with interesting moss, ferries for cars, pubs staffed by young women from Queensland, Daphne du Maurier.
The river mussels may not agree with your digestion.
I know, the wallpaper! I'm also very keen on the teal paintjob in Dr Ellingham's consulting room. I noticed last night that the pig-loving vicar has the same colour in his house.
Did you also notice that the pig-loving vicar was Mr Collins from the BBC Pride and Pred?
Yes! Though it took me an unaccountably long time to place him.
It's good to see he hasn't been typecast as just the one sort of vicar.
I didn't notice! But now you mention it: o' course. What a strange allusion.
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