Tonight I cozied in with my eldest daughter, to at long last sit and watch the series finale of Downton Abbey. I know, I know, it aired SO LONG AGO, what the hell have I been doing with myself? How could it be that I’m just watching it tonight?
You want to know why I’ve waited? Because I didn’t want to let it go, or for it to come to an end. Like a great bottle of wine, that costs a fortune, or a new pair of Louboutin shoes that you don’t want to scuff the red off of, or a luxurious soak in the bath. None of them ever last as long as you would like them to. It, pure joy, comes to an end way too soon.
I feel this way about Downton Abbey.
The costumes. The performances. The sets. The elegance of the era.
I love it all. I will miss all of it terribly. It was bad enough they only made 7 episodes season one, and then 8 episodes a season there after, compared to the 20, 22, 24 they produce when making American cookie cutter television series. Why is it, a completely beautifully shot, brilliantly acted series like this only gives us six SHORT seasons, of 47 episodes in total?
Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm…
Some of the cast members have moved on to other roles, and to be honest with you, I finally get why so many of you write Yannick distressing messages when he posts photos as a character other than Murdoch. I didn’t get it before, I thought you all were just being sentimental. But now, after reading about the new series some of them will be turning up on this coming television season. I must confess, I’m not the least bit curious to tune in. Which is not fair to them as actors. They should be able to portray any character that tickles their acting bone, and be met with my support, and loyalty. Because I mean if I’m a fan, I should be a fan no matter what they do, even if it isn’t performing on my beloved Downton Abbey.