Carson puts his toe into insider trading when he advises Mrs. Patmore that an investment in a particular developer might be a very safe haven for her recent inheritance. Why Carson doesn't utter the phrase "safe as houses" escapes me.
"Safe as houses" is phrase I first heard on the miniseries 'Restless' when a quick turn at the bar by a gentleman almost topples Hayley Atwell's drink. She quickly recovers and tells the dashing gentleman that there was no harm done, her drink is "safe as houses."
Huh? Turns out it's one of those Brit phrases that came about after the financial panic in the 19th Century when railway investments were going bust through a bubble, and housing was a better, and safer place to park your money. Safe as houses.
Mrs. Patmore eventually follows her own investment advice, which does have to do with a house, and Carson's feathers remain fluffed.
Scotland Yard is now sending an inspector to the pile to conduct interviews regarding the fatal accident the valet Mr. Green suffered in London and if there is any involvement by the Bates couple. The heat in on.
Lady Edith is coming apart at the seams over the care of her illegitimate daughter Marigold. The Hat Squad of Dame Violet and Aunt Rosamund are convening in the library. Action is being planned.
Thomas the under-butler is suffering severely from quack medicine he read about in the back of a magazine that slyly must have intimated it could cure homosexuality. He is not doing well.
The committee of Dame Violet and Dr. Clarkson has certified that Lord Merton really would be a good match for Cousin Isobel. You will remember Lord Merton proposed to Matthew's mother but admitted that he couldn't get down on one knee to do it because he wouldn't be able to get up.
I know how Lord Merton feels. In 1924 he obviously doesn't have the benefit of watching the half-hour Evening News and learning what pharmaceutical product might loosen up those joints. Or take care of his bowels, or prostate, or other parts of his body. There is much to look forward to as the decades roll on.
Miss Bunting and her tackling of Lord G. at the dinner table over social issues seems on its way out. She's leaving town. At least for now But not to worry. Lady Rose MacClare, the young breath of fresh air is about to get attached to Atticus Aldrich, someone who helps her in the rain with her packages on the way to serve tea and baked goodies in a church for the exiled Russian refugees.
It turns Atticus Aldrich is not a patrician Englishman by heredity but rather a descendant of one of the many Jewish families that were forced out of Russia during the pogram of 1859. Lady Cora's mother is Jewish, but with Miss Bunting off the guest list, we are likely to get Atticus testing his Lordship's sense of humanity. Watch out for flying buttons landing in the soup.
But the best is last. We have Lord G. dressed in his regimental uniform for a reunion dinner. He looks positively resplendent in a bright red waistcoat with a few medals pinned on the left. Rather than looking like he's ready to invade Poland he looks like the lift operator at the Carlyle hotel, ready to close the gate, grab the handle on the wheel and ask the couple in the elevator, "what floor, please?"
On his way to his dinner he passes the oily Simon Bricker who is annoyingly at Lord G's spread to ostensibly appraise art, but is rather obviously trying to get Lady Cora in the sack. This leads to the delicious scene where Lord G. returns home unexpectedly from his dinner, claiming it ended early and he saw no need to stay over.
"Ended early" is code for the fact there wasn't enough booze to go around and the stripper who was slated to come out of the cannon cancelled. What's a fellow to do then but go home to the wife?
And what a reception. He plows through his bedroom door only to find Simon in his bathrobe surprising Lady Cora with his presence. And she is surprised, and wants none of his explanation why the two of them should engage in a mattress rumba. The missed dialog here from Simon is what Willie Nelson is supposed to have said when he was caught in flagrante delicto: "Are you going to believe what you see, or what I say?" Of course this is 1924, and Willie's not yet around saying or singing anything.
This is where Lord G. starts to steam. A tea kettle on his head right now would whistle. And it does. He throttles Simon to the floor and tries to extract an enraged husband's revenge. And Lady Cora? Coooool as a block of ice. Does she stomp her feet, scream, holler, and tell the boys to stop it? No. She calmly answers the door and explains to the concerned daughter Lady Edith that she and Lord G. are only playing a game and the lamp was knocked over.
Game? What game? Simon Says? No matter, the woman is fantastic! Any woman who can orchestrate the removal a dead Turk from her daughter's bedroom and place him back in his own is someone who should have been in Nixon's inner circle. Gerald Ford would not have become president. Simon takes an embarrassed exit and leaves the house in the morning.
Great stuff, and followed by ' Grantchester,' the murder-solving vicar with the gay curate and a dog named Dickens.
In the third episode there are two deaths that are suspicious. This is beginning to look like 'Midsomer Murders' where DCI Tom Barnaby finally solves murders while so many villagers have been offed that the neighboring undertaker usually has to be called in to assist. Well, not really, but plenty of people go on that show before the denouement comes.
Reverend Sidney Chambers in 'Grantchester' is far more efficient. He listens to jazz, smokes, and drinks rather copious amounts of the very good stuff--Chivas Regal. He starts to feel guilty about his consumption of alcohol and starts in on non-alcoholic beverages when meeting his police counterpart, Inspector Geordie Keating.
Inspector Keating is an adequate investigator, but is really overshadowed by Sidney's bursts of creative thinking. Geordie is usually seen with shabby pants being help up by a dirty set of suspenders. When he goes out he's got Lieutenant Columbo's raincoat on, and generally keeps it on in the pub. He is usually under a cloud of cigarette smoke. He is an unmade bed.
Geordie is forever referring to Simon's assistant as a "pansy" and is forever calling Simon a "sly old dog" thinking that Simon is getting plenty of female companionship. He's not, really. His heart's gone out, but not far enough. It's now come back to him and he's a bit lonely. It seems that will change because letters are being exchanged, and a female character from the first episode is sure to reappear.
So Simon smokes, drinks and listens to delightful Sidney Bechet and Louie Armstrong records spin on his Victrola until he passes out at this desk. But he's always brought back to life, quickly, by his sharp-tongued housekeeper Mrs. Maguire. He never seems to have a hangover. TV.
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