Every Sunday night since the start of the year, I’ve been traveling in time and space to visit the Crawleys at Downton Abbey. Like many of you, I can’t seem to get quite enough of this rather eccentric clan. And I’ve often wondered why.
I don’t envy them the lands of the estate, although I admit I’d love to see the stunning Highclere Castle in person one day soon. It’s not the art treasures that fill the house, as numerous as they are. It’s not really even the clothes… although I will say that the exquisite couture and the hats and the jewels are to die for.
No. It’s not the wealth, the position in society or the property. It’s the Staff I love and long for! I sigh when Anna hangs up every piece of clothing and takes away Lady Mary’s things to launder. I listen jealously as Lord Grantham announces there will be ‘four more for dinner’ and Cora tinkles the bell so Mrs. Patmore can be brought into the loop, expanding the feast at a moment’s notice. I arise from the table with the other ladies and retire to the drawing room, leaving every dish and piece of silverware for someone else’s capable hands to clear away and clean.
For our mothers, it was the promise that filling a bath would fulfill the wish: “Calgon, take me away.” For me? I’ll just retreat to my boudoir, all by myself with a bone china tea cup in hand, and live right alongside the Crawleys for an hour each Sunday night. Thank you, Julian Fellowes, for another trip in space and time.