Prime Suspect? Prime Indeed!

Okay folks.

Here’s the deal.

I love Helen Mirren.

Well, I love DCI Jane Tennison, but it’s really all one, right?

Yesterday I worked only in the morning, and then headed home thinking I would lounge around a bit, before giving my house a very much needed deep clean.

I put on the fire, wrapped myself in a blanket, and then turned on Netflix, eager to watch a movie, or a couple episodes of a TV show before getting out the rubber gloves.

What I really wanted to put on was “Call the Midwife” but seeing as though that’s the show that Marc and I are currently watching together, I felt bad about skipping ahead without him by my side.

Surfing through the selection, I came across Prime Suspect, and paused.


I’d been seeing this show pop up now and then in our recommended feed, and I thought it best to finally give it a try.

Boy am I glad that I ever did – it’s SUCH a fantastic show.

What’s even more incredible, is that despite the fact that it was filmed in 1991, it really doesn’t feel at all dated.

Sure the haircuts, and fashion styles may be a little Duran Duran, but the writing, acting, and direction is so great that one can’t really care about such trivial things.

Plus, Helen Mirren.



DCI Tennison is such an epic badass, in all areas for sure, but especially in how she deals with the ingrained, institutionalized sexism of the Metropolitan Police Force.

What makes this show so special is that it offers zero apologies for Tennison and why she is the way she is. Nothing fazes her, and every time we think that she’s going to capitulate to the male hegemony of her work force, she totally bucks our expectations (and in the process, forces us to examine why we even have those expectations in the first place.)

This, in my opinion is one of the best, and most important aspects of the show.

Further, so many other shows about a “strong solo female detective” would have caved and would have included the requisite “tough lady finally breaks down and cries to show her real femininity” or some other inane and disappointing scene, but instead, through it all, despite her ups and downs, and trials both inside and outside of work, Tennison just powers right through.

Just watch any scene with her Director Superintendent where she literally plows right through him, finishing her sentences when he tries to interrupt her, or talks over him when he tries to bully her (despite him knowing full well that she is, in fact, in the right, and he, in the wrong.)

It’s is just so, so awesome.

I cannot wait to quit my life and just spend the next little while watching all the other seasons and TV movies that spun off from the original series’ run.

(I might only be a little bit joking here. If you haven’t heard from me in a week, phone the police. PHONE DCI TENNISON AND TELL HER I WANT TO BE HER FRIEND.)

Phone’s ringing dude


I am jetlagged.

The time change and long distance travel malaise didn’t hit on the way down to Nova Scotia, but coming back to fair British Columbia it certainly has done its best to knock me off my feet.

Waking up on Wednesday morning, my head felt a little foggy, but I just chalked it up to the fact that we hadn’t fallen into bed until close to 2:30am (that day!), after, literally, traversing the whole of North America the night before.

(Well, crossing the east-west divide of the continent, at the very least.)

However, after spending the day cleaning, and running, and grocery shopping, and friend hanging-outing, I literally collapsed into sleep that night (knowing full well that my first day back at work would probably be busy as a busy thing.)

And it was.

But more than that, the next morning my head fog remained (if anything it seemed thicker than before) and all of my limbs felt weighted and stiff. Here we are a day later, and this lethargy remains, and my whole body feels slightly out of whack – almost as though a key ingredient has been overlooked when putting together the recipe for my life back here on the West Coast.

I am sure that this will fade (as most fog does) but in the mean time I am excited that it is already the weekend, and I can relax and get my wits together before tackling my first full week come Monday morning.

In even better news, my older sister is here for the weekend, and tonight we are having a sleepover (which means junk food and Kids in the Hall) and on Sunday there is a big family dinner with Mel’s (her fiancée’s) family.

The excitement kids! It’s palpable!

In the meantime, let’s check what’s frying up on the stove this Friday.


I hear the call.

So, after living for many moons (over two years actually) without a cell phone, I finally caved to social pressure (aka my mother’s desperate pleas) and procured a personal mobile device.


What can I say – I need to keep up with the times.

And the trends.

Plus, carrier pigeons are expensive.

What time is it?

Do you have Netflix or the internet?

Do you love a good television series?

Can you see?

Do you find yourself interested in geek-chic actors, such as Ben Whishaw, or beautiful, brilliant blondes like Romola Garai?

Do you believe that Dominic West can only really play dashing cads because, in all likelihood, he probably is a dashing cad in real life?

If you have answered YES to any of these questions, you must immediately abandon everything that you are doing and start watching The Hour at once.

I just finished the second season and am so, so sad that it is done.

If you start watching let me know what you think.

Also, two words more of encouragement: DUCK. FACE.

Separation anxiety.

So I remarked briefly in my last post that Nymeria was really excited to see M and I upon our arrival home.

This was no mere exaggeration folks. Our little gal has been so over the moon to have us back, I’m starting to believe that she actually thought we were long-goners.


Never have I ever heard her purr like this – it’s like she’s got a tiny (but efficient) train operating inside of her, one that is running at all hours of the day.

Every night since we’ve arrived back she has either slept on my legs or feet (or sometimes even tummy) and she talks, talks, talks all the live-long day.

Hi mum! Hi dad! Don’t ever leave me again, okay? I’ll never scratch the carpet ever again I promise! Or at the very least I’ll try my hardest not to tear it apart! I love you! So glad you’re back!

I am actively destroyed every time I open the front door – whether it’s returning home from work, or coming back from a run, or with an armful of grocery bags.

(Literally too, due to the fact that as she weaves in and out between your legs it is very easy to be tripped up by this dance.)

An animal’s love, phew – it’ll get you.

Good thing we love her tight right back.


So there you have it my darlings.

What’s on the docket for you all this weekend?

Phone, text, or e-mail me – I’m rightfully equipped to hear about it all.