January 29, 2012
Pour me up some Downton Abbey
When the opening music fills our living room, my husband and I both sigh with happiness. Pour me up some Downton Abbey.
However, I think that the injustice of the downstairs-upstairs effect is somewhat lost on me. I want to roar out in the ridiculousness of the aristocracy, but when the last episode I watched closed, all I wanted was someone to lay out my dress in the morning and ring a bell for dinner at eight. All of my heartfelt belief about justice and humanity wiped out by a television show when I want someone to braid my hair and prepare a soft-boiled egg and please use that darling china with the red village images.
Okay, well that is an overstatement. I haven't lost sight of all of my principles.
But, I have to confess, the aristocracy is quite appealing for someone who is constantly managing the clutter, dishes, more then fulltime work, and trying to determine a wardrobe that doesn't look completely "over" in the late nineties.
Well, all I need is a Mrs. Hughes--just one Mrs. Hughes--to rule over my housekeeping and dressing with all of her no-nonsense yet maternal ways.
Mrs. Hughes, if you are out there, I can't pay you much (or at all), but I might be able to squeeze you into our guest bedroom. I can even make it look like the one you have at Downton Abbey. Let me know if you are interested.