My friend and colleague Young Bill has been doing what I haven’t been, reading. I’ve been on a cleaning spree so have medicated myself with doses of Doc Martin. I don’t even know where to begin to explain Doc Martin. My husband is no BBC viewer, and he actually loves it. Everyone where I work loves it, our patrons love it.
The doctor gets sick at the sight of blood, there’s various crazy (but very sane) receptionists, Doc Martin’s love interests who he runs off regularly, an irascible plumber and his son and the miscellaneous sick and forlorn of Portwenn, Cornwall. Doc Martin (Martin Clunes) talks to people the way we would like to but can’t get away with it. We’d be fired, divorced, run out of town. It is just incredibly funny and clever, in the self-effacing way the British use humor.
We checked out the DVD from the library, but it looks like episodes are available on the internet.
I can’t wait to read The Passage, except it may go the way of Patrick Rothfuss, the Name of the Wind and Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke. The size of the tome is mind boggling. Way to go Young Bill. I’ve promised myself I’ll finish some of the books I’ve started. My sis in law finishes one book before starting another. I can’t go there even if I think it would be good for me. It’s like eating chocolate when you want tacos. I’m definitely a mood reader. So off to more Doc, I’ve got the site of the week in mind, you’ll just have to wait until I finish some more episodes.