I have a weakness for a good mystery. I enjoy reading them, and I enjoy watching them. But even though I like them, I could never write one. After all, if you're writing a book it's always good to know how it's going to turn out. Since I can never figure out "whodunnit" before the end of the book/show I won't be dabbling in this genre any time soon.
I just borrowed the first two seasons of Vera from the library. Vera is based on a series of books by Ann Cleeves. I've read the Shetland books by Ann Cleeves, but haven't picked up any of these, so can't say how the TV series compares to the books. However, I can say that I'm enjoying them. But here's my problem. The main character, Vera Stanhope, is played by actress Brenda Blethyn. She was the mother in the 2005 Keira Knightley version of Pride and Prejudice, which happens to be one of my knitting/comfort movies. I have watched it well over fifty times. This makes it hard for me to rid myself of the feeling that when Vera is having trouble solving a crime she is going to take to her bed with a case of nerves.
Season 2 of Ripper Street has been downloaded on my computer for several weeks and I have yet to watch a single episode. The reason? I'm a chicken. It's still dark when I take Fergus out to walk right before he goes to bed and I have an overactive imagination. It's bad enough worrying about encountering a cougar. I don't want to add a serial killer to my list of fears.
I just finished watching Season 2 of Bletchley Circle on Netflix. There is a scene where someone has been murdered and they are on the floor in a pool of blood. (I don't consider this to be a spoiler. Given the nature of the show you can pretty much deduce there is going to be at least one person who dies.) It was only as this scene came to a close that I realized the whole time I had been fixated on the man's Fair Isle vest. Never mind that the poor guy had just been violently murdered in his own home, all I was interested in was the pattern on his vest.
It isn't just this one character who has caught my knitterly attention either. The whole show is a gold mine of vintage knitwear. The women's sweaters are lovely. There's something about this early 1950s style that appeals to me. These pictures aren't the greatest, but hopefully they are clear enough to give you an idea of what I'm talking about.
This isn't the first time I have been inappropriately interested in knitwear. More than once I have found myself staring intently at a complete stranger's hat, and on a couple of occasions I have actually followed a person to get a closer look. From my perspective I'm just admiring the design and/or structure of what's plunked on top of their head. From their perspective I realize I fall somewhere on the spectrum between weirdo and stalker.
I am at a loss for understanding why Sherlock only has three episodes in a season. Maybe it's for the best though. As much as I love this show, sometimes it makes me feel rather stupid. The scenes with Sherlock rapidly zipping through events in his head as he tries to figure something out stand in stark contrast to my head, which often can't remember what I was planning to make for dinner that evening, or what I walked into the room to get.
I can't stand the actual crime scenes with all the blood and gore, so I turn my eyes away when those are on. Unless, of course, the victim is wearing a nice sweater or vest. The same applies for all morgue scenes.
What are your thoughts on crime dramas? Have you seen any good ones that I haven't mentioned in this post? If so, please share them in the comment section.
This has nothing to do with the rest of this post, but I thought I should include at least one cheerful picture. These are the socks I finished for the February instalment of my Self-Imposed Sock of the Month club. The yarn is from Trailing Clouds (she is the person who dyes that wonderful Mind the Gap self-striping yarn). This colourway is called Primary-Secondary.