Watching The Detectives

I'm not much of a telly person, finding it difficult to maintain any level of concentration on the small screen beyond twenty minutes. But catching bits of Monk, Wallander and George Gently in the last few days (though not one in their entirety, due to the Toad work) has made me realise that's the one kind of programme I can watch with addictive ease - what Mum would have called a good murder. In fact, I actually watched the first series of Monk when it was originally aired here, on an episode by episode basis, something of a record for me. I stopped watching it when I became aware the commitment to doing so (which is what it felt like) was unsustainable. Oh, and they started showing it at absurd times.

I'm not quite sure what it is grips me about the genre. Certainly not solving the cases. I never do. But I never want to. It's the mystery that I like, I think.

Thinking back to Dennis Potter's superb The Singing Detective, I suppose we're all detectives trying to make sense of the final mystery of it all, and happy to accept any answers along the way. Which reminds me - whatever happened to Mr P's Pennies From Heaven? They don't seem to repeat this stuff. I suppose it must be on DVD somewhere, along with The Singing Detective. Gosh, to think you used to be able to watch such wonderful series like that on a weekly basis. Now those were the days I could find myself glued to the old goggle box.