Garden: 2 (& Bleak House)

Well, I haven't actually planted anything in the garden yet, but by this afternoon all of the beds had been dug over at least twice, and most of the dead weeds are gone now, and the pavers are at least peeking out towards the sun, so that's something more than nothing, and that, shall we say, is good.

Digging is not the most interesting job on earth, so for part of the time today I was thinking about Bleak House, currently running on Australia's ABC TV on Sunday nights. I watched it last week with my sister Mavis, and proving that she is an intelligent sort of bod, just after the part where the street urchin Jo slips away from this mortal coil and the assembled masses dissolve into grief, Mavis-darl declared, "Oh! It's so delicious!!"

Yes indeedy. I wouldn't have thought of it, but that's it exactly. A period drama as stylish soapie, Bleak House is absolutely delicious. I haven't read the book and don't know how many liberties the TV version takes, but it's fine with me if it's being wilfully outrageous. All of the baddies are so deliciously bad, and all of the heroes are so deliciously good. Charles Dance seemed to be having so much fun playing the wicked Mr Tulkinghorn (now sadly departed, it seems), it would have been quite appropriate if he'd pulled on a black hat and ridden through town as an outlaw cowboy, all guns blazing as he rode over the sheriff and posse.

Sigh. It's magnificent. Bravo to the BBC.