The unveiling of the seasonal TV schedules came as a huge disappointment to the many fans of Downton Abbey. They would not be able to sit back and enjoy the Christmas cheer that this much-loved programme delivered. For such devotees however, TCWDF has commissioned its own ‘winter special’. Sit back and enjoy Christmas with the Granthams . . .
DOWNTON Abbey looks very much like a Christmas card. Snow is falling heavily and the gardens are transformed into a winter wonderland, smoke drifts from a chimney and good cheer can be heard from the house.
The Grantham family are gathered in the drawing room. A majestically decorated tree dominates the room, presents are stacked beneath it and festivity hangs in the air. Everyone is dressed impeccably – as one would expect, and befitting such an occasion, opulent jewellery is the order of the day.
Lady Grantham is wearing a tiara with the magnificent Khan diamond centre stone; Lady Sybil bears the fabled Starmer brooch depicting a man executing a U-turn – the provenance of which has never been authenticated.
With log fires now banned, Lord Grantham has his back turned to the electric log burner, complete with authentic-looking flames and fuel bed. Talking to no one in particular, he bemoans the changes that have befallen Downton in recent times.
‘I do so miss having a real fire in here – there’s something not quite right about this Johnson Midi electric stove.’
He turns to address his family: ‘Christmas is such a special time, and it really is wonderful to have the whole family here together to celebrate. Yet today is tinged with sadness that dear mama is no longer with us.’
As he gazes upwards, Lady Cora can be heard none too subtly saying: ‘Goodness knows why she didn’t take advantage of Dr Clarkson’s kind offer of assisted suicide; it would have made things a lot easier and cheaper.’
Lord Grantham raises his glass of Truss’s finest Amontillado sherry: ‘To mama’.
The assembled raise their glasses together in memory of the late Dowager Countess and Lord Grantham asks Lady Mary to summon the staff to the drawing room so that he can hand over their presents. It is a quaint tradition dating back centuries.
There is a gentle knock on the door and Carson the butler ushers in the servants, watching over them like a concerned parent. There is an air of excitement and anticipation as to what gifts they will receive, and Lord Grantham starts proceedings by thanking them for their hard work during the year and reminding them that at heart they are all part of the family.
Taking one of the beautifully wrapped boxes from underneath the tree, he asks the much-loved cook, Mrs Patmore, to step forward. Beaming broadly, she accepts the package, and the ever-inquisitive Daisy calls out: ‘What is it, Mrs Patmore’? Lord Grantham motions for Carson to ignore Daisy’s interruption and encourages Mrs Patmore to open it.
‘Why, they’re lovely, your Lordship. Thank you so much, it is very generous of you.’
‘But what is it?’ shouts Daisy in desperation.
‘Well, it’s a delightful matching set of syringes, and I for one am very grateful, although, truth be told, I’m not quite sure what they’re for.’
Lord Grantham smiles benevolently and informs her that they are in fact a wonderful injection that will help her to lose weight. Mrs Patmore’s smile disappears in an instant.
‘Oh, I see.’ She trudges despondently to the back of the room whilst Mrs Hughes and Mr Bates are each given a copy of the popular book Let’s Make Believe by Rachel Reeves.
Almost all the presents have been given and all that remains is a large sack-like parcel wrapped with tinsel. Mr Mason the tenant farmer handles his cap nervously as he has yet to be given his Christmas reward for a busy year.
Lord Grantham is all smiles as he beckons the shy and retiring smallholder to the front of the drawing room.
‘Last but by no means least, Mr Mason, this is for you.’
With both hands he tugs the weighty bundle from beneath the festive tree and urges Mr Mason to open it.
Looking round at all the expectant eyes on him, the farmer tears roughly at the wrapping and stares uncomprehendingly at what is before him. His lips move as he reads out loud.
‘Bovaer, your Lordship?’ he asks tremulously.
‘Yes, it’s a wonderful feed additive that will do wonders for the dairy cattle herd you look after so admirably.’
‘Not wishing to sound ungrateful, m’Lord, but I think they get all the goodness they need from the wonderful grazing they have here on the estate. What does this ’ere stuff do that nature can’t’?
‘Well, Mr Mason, and allowing for the fact that ladies are present, it is perhaps best if I simply say that it can help reduce the ruminants’ carbon footprint.’
‘But they don’t walk on carbon, m’Lud, they walk on grass – that’s where their footprints are.’
Slightly irritated at this impertinent talk Lord Grantham looks him in the eye and says brusquely: ‘Look, it simply reduces their flatulence, now do you understand?’
Mr Mason doubles up laughing clutching his sides.
‘Oh that’s a good one, your Lordship. It’s to stop ’em farting, that’s t’best joke I heard all year. It’s a belter that, you ought to be on t’stage.’
Lord Grantham signals angrily to Carson that the celebrations are finished, and that it is time for the servants to go back to their duties.
