I have been listening to Busman’s Honeymoon on BBC7 with the same sort of fascinated horror I usually reserve for novels about zombies, and impending sex scenes in The Archers*. I’ve always disliked Ian Carmichael’s portrayal of Peter Wimsey as far too tweedy, but I’d ten thousand times rather have him in tweed than primrose silk pyjamas, whilst Harriet sounds like Margaret Thatcher. Why do the BBC only ever re-run these versions, and not, for example, the adaptation of Strong Poison with Simon Russell Beale?
No writing done at the weekend – I was away for much of it and still haven’t seen Doctor Who – but hatster_catster showed herself a woman after my own heart by suggesting before I did that she reckoned there was something going on between Ngaio Marsh’s* Agatha Troy and her painter friend Katti Bostock. No, I’m not going to write it. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not. I'm going to sign up to Yuletide 2007 and request it, along with The Slipper and the Rose Prince/John slash in which, contrary to the Wolfstar shippers, I will be requesting that the writer not feel obliged to believe that "position and positioning are socially conditioning" or necessarily what the reader is most interested in.
Have finished the last snippet for the "I’ll never write" from the last post: from Filch’s true identity to Dumbledore’s real killer. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling’s website reveals Tonks’s house at Hogwarts. Hmm. I was right, but am still a bit disappointed.
*Dull as ditchwater as Ambridge vicars usually are, we can at least be grateful that some vestige of deference to the cloth means their romances never involve sex scenes.
**For years I assumed Ngaio Marsh was not a writer, but a swamp in Africa.