While I was dogsitting, a couple of weeks ago, I went to see the Downton Abbey movie with my friend, Regena. She was a big fan of the show and I, having never watched it, just went along for the company. I'm not a big movie person and, really, not even much of a TV series kind of girl, so I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the movie with no background information.

Well, of course, when I got back home, I decided to watch a couple of the first episodes to see if it would be a show that I would enjoy and, well, I was quickly hooked. It's been about 3 weeks, since I started, and I'm in the middle of season four now. I'm not sure that would qualify as binge watching, but I'm making good forward progress. I'll watch an episode in the morning and another one on the treadmill in the evening and then another one before I go to bed. That's a bloody big dose of Yorkshire in one day.
Funny though. I've noticed myself trying to sit up a little straighter and have contemplated getting out the wedding china and crystal for daily use. I've had a hankering to use shall as a helping verb, where I've never thought about using it before. Shall really isn't a big word down here in Mississippi unless you're reading the ten commandments and then its use is most imperative. Immersing myself in the series has also made me prone to replacing the "er" and "ar" sounds with an "ah". Like "Aftah dinnah, we shall enjoy some music togethah undah the stahs." And I've been sizing up our boxwoods, lately, and have pondered sculpting them into something worthy of garden tours for our guests to enjoy after tea. Perhaps, I'll send Davis out there with the weed whacker, this weekend.   

My stomach was even feeling a little sickly, a couple of days ago, and I caught myself worrying that I'd come down with the dreaded Spanish flu that killed poor Livinia in the great pandemic. And I can't help but feel a bit shabby when Lord Miller and I sit down to dinner. He, not being in white tie, and I, without my evening dress...and in sock feet and all. It is quite vexing to not have a proper lady's maid to dress you for social appointments. And I intend to speak with his lordship very soon to discuss the matter of why we do not have a drawing room anywhere in this house. A matter that must be rectified at once. But, at least, Carson, the young chap, is home for fall holiday and, perhaps, he can create a distraction from this English spell, which has come over me. He being heir to the estate and all. If nothing else, at least, I'll have someone to bring the car around for a few days.

This continues and carries over into the nighttime as I even dream in old English. I've been very busy during my sleeping hours. Getting ready for the ball. Climbing the grand staircase. Tugging at the bell pulls. Yes, it's even invaded my dream world. I haven't gotten a handle on whether I'm the one being served from the silver in the dream or the one polishing it, but I'm afraid I'm leaning toward the latter. It is most likely that my lineage would be traced back to the servant's hall as opposed to the great hall.  

Yesterday, I even caught myself saying my silent prayers in a more formal and flowery format than usual. I found I was hesitating as I looked for more poetic words with grander descriptive powers. The normal words weren't expressive enough for this new proper me and I was putting pressure on myself to sound a bit more lyrical. I'm not sure God wasn't chuckling as He wondered who this was on the other end of the line that looked like me but sounded an awful lot like King James.

So, that's where I am. Another couple of seasons and I can go back to being a bumbling American. Until then, I shall have a jolly good time in the overuse of "perhaps" and insert the word, shall, into as many sentences as possible.

Do have a most splendid weekend.