Not surprisingly, by the end of six costumed BBC hours, I am indeed come over all socially aspirational.
Life chez Grit is going up in the world, despite our modest assets; we still have three daughters to dispose of and I must set my sights a little higher for each of them; better than, say, a gentleman who deals drugs or owns a pit bull.
Therefore! I have decided to improve our social status and outlook!
For the house, I shall take my design ideas from Pemberley. Easy! We already own half a dozen candelabra thanks to my industrious efforts down the car boot! Never mind that I cannot afford to put candles in them, they look full of intention scattered about the drawing room.
Anyway, to Pemberley. I particularly liked the flaming torches placed along the driveway. I am going to do that. Admittedly, our front garden path is a bit shorter than theirs (less than two meters), but I think I can fit in a couple of carriage illuminations on either side of the concrete. I bet I could do it with a rag soaked in petrol and tied to the end of a broom handle stuck in a plant pot.
Then I rather liked their large sitting rooms. Again, I cannot do anything about the actual size of our front room, apart from knock a hole in the wall, which I will consider, but I could squeeze in at least another couple of
Then the girls. I must socially improve them all. (This is a little tricky.) I will first have a go at the wardrobes, maybe with a long-term view to wrestle from Squirrel's grubby mitts her torn jeans and mouldy t-shirt, and then I will have a bash at the manners. Ladies, I will say, the belching and farting must stop. I will lead by example.
And Dig! What of him? He must be my own Mr Darcy! (I haven't got any other candidate for the job.) He must be improved along with the rest of us. I shall shout at him viciously that I shall never marry him again ever, then hose him down in the garden. This may have the desired effect. Nothing else has worked, so I may as well give it a go.
Well, if you read this far, you may wonder what we are doing inflicting on ourselves a density of P&P in the first place.
We have a book group on Thursday with our set text, obviously, as Pride and Prejudice.
Thus I am bringing my girls up in the traditional scholarly manner of English Literature students worldwide: to be able to talk confidently at length about the themes, characterisation and plot; build grand incomprehensible theories about literature and society on the basis of one novel; and quote exhaustively in petty detail to condescendingly exclude all non-knowers and innocent readers, without ever having read the book.
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