When I saw that the BBC in their infinite wisdom had released all the episodes at once, I promised myself I would take it slowly. No more than one a day.
I make myself a lot of promises I know I’m not going to keep. Just as well I have low standards.
Friday, I was under orders to rest – slight post – operative temperature. And after last year’s experiences, a little fear. (Don’t worry. I won’t go into detail. Unless I get around to writing that medical thriller, in which case all bets are off.)
So I watched it all. One episode after another. I let Ryan cook – which, as ever, meant beans on toast.
I loved the first series and had been looking forward to this immensely. It was, after all, Jane Campion’s film ‘In The Cut’ (generally quite unpopular) which inspired my novel ‘A Savage Art’
In a Guardian article last week, it was said that this was deeper and darker – and indeed it was. In places it was positively weird.
But it was every bit as brilliant as I had hoped, and I am feeling inspired again, indirectly, to follow my own weird tangent.
I’m not going to say anything about the characters or the story or anything, knowing many people are more sensible than me and are eking it out.
I wonder if I’ll believe Elisabeth Moss as Offred tonight? Isn’t she fabulous?