Obsessed with British mysteries

I was sure that I was a committed Francophile until I discovered BritBox, an online video subscription service.  

 

There is nothing like a British mystery – they are “gorgeous.”  The settings are quaint, rustic, windswept. They lure you in. You know that nothing could really be that idyllic, something has to be lurking there, and it’s definitely nothing good. 

 

Typically, they can be brutal though usually not graphically violent. The victim is often discovered at the beginning of the show, perhaps an occasional body, washed up on the rocks of a stunning waterscape. There is almost always water.  

 

I am protective of my senses. I can’t deal with torture; don’t put me at a table with people eating lamb or veal.  

 

Anyway, the actual physical murder is beside the point. Getting into the convoluted whodunit of it all – the quick minds, the quirky/snarky humor, guessing who are the honest dedicated detectives and who are the “bent coppers” – is what it is really about.   

 

The language is charming. British detectives call their superiors “M’am” and “Guv.” They refer to or are referred to as “Luv” and “Pet.” They don’t go on vacation, they go on “holiday.”  Everyone they visit, be it families of victims or suspects, puts a kettle on and pours them a “cuppa” (occasionally there are times they try to slip in a little poison but they are few and far between.).

 

There are pubs where they sometimes get “knackered.” There are big black taxis, they have “biscuits” with their tea, and their fries are called “chips.”

 

They don’t just say “thanks” – they say “cheers” or “ta.”  

 

I love them. I want to be them. I want to change my name to Alice or Vera – or Nancy. I want to go back to my Nancy Drew days when I read every one of her mysteries backward and forward, even though she wasn’t British – or French.

 

In our house, British mysteries have become not just an addiction but an obsession.  

 

We have our cuppa with honey and maybe a biscuit or two while we are absorbed. It makes it so much more authentic.  

 

Subtitles are critical. The language may be called “English” but it is definitely not our English. Many of the references, especially foods, require us to keep Google nearby.

 

And speaking of that, don’t even get me started on British food shows. Quaint, warm, funny, delicious and positively charming.  

 

And yes, I do think it’s entirely possible to be a Francophile and an Anglophile. More on that another day.

 

“Cheers, pet.”  

 

“Bonne nuit.”