Canford

A couple of months ago, one of the local Public Television stations showed a three part play called "Cranford". It's a period piece, written in the first half of the nineteenth century by one Elizabeth Gaskell, about life in a small village. I had never heard of it nor of her, but the cast was impressive: Dame Judi Dench, Imelda Staunton, Simon Woods, Dame Eileen Atkins, MIchael Gambon...for starters. The rest of the large cast was outstanding and the performance superb. The Brits are past masters at that sort of ensemble piece. The plots were straight out of Dickens, Balzac or any soap: the unmarried sisters, the widowed retired captain on half-pay, his two daughters, the invalid one being taken care of by the other one who had turned an offer of marriage to be there for her sibling and eventually for her father (this play reeks of devotion to duty), the poor pastor and his lovely daughter exuding charm and goodness, the good old doctor and his new assistant fresh out of medical school and full of "modern" knowledge, the lady of the manor and her son living in luxury in Italy on her income, the faithful retainer who save her from financial ruin, the ne'er-do-well and his son who, horrors, breaks down the class barrier by learning to read and write and gets an office job, and the long lost brother who left for India twenty five years ago, never gave any news and re-appears at the end, bringing with him the bolt of mousseline he had promised his sister, now alas a spinster for life. So, she generously gives it to the pastor's daughter, for her wedding gown. She is to marry the young doctor and one knows, one just knows that they will be very, very happy and have beautiful, healthy children and that there always will be an England and that little Isle, that Britannia will rule for ever. (fade-out, patriotic music).

Corn, corn, corn by the bushel. Maybe. But if your PBS station runs it again, and you have not seen it, don't miss it this time. "Cranford".