I am eyebrow-deep in Wedding Stuff now, of course, with one cape (not furry) still to do and all sorts of admin to get sorted.

In the past three days I have paid florists and car provider, visited a dressmaker who I hope will make a dress fit a bridesmaid, discovered I need to go into Coventry to buy more lining fabric, stuck pieces of tissue paper patterns back together, tried on and rejected a dress I planned to wear, freaked out about this, ordered a new and much nicer (and more expensive) outfit, sent a big cheque to the church, emailed F a dozen or more times, discussed table plans, guest lists and order of service, ventured into the First Circle of hell that is Bicester Outlet Village so husband could buy suit and shoes for the event, dropped in to see oxfordia and family, the one good reason to go to Bicester, sorted dishwasher/washing machine/tumble drier and collaborated in dismantling Christmas.

Tomorrow I need to get the lining, cut it out and make up the cape. Ironing will have to happen at some point, and a visit to the post office to return the unsuitable dress. (Nice colour but ridiculous amounts of bling on the shoulders and so thin you could actually see nipples through it.) And payment of photographer.

There's a room with no bed but dozens of boxes which needs space to put a bed in it. That will probably occupy the weekend.

Meanwhile, I have collapsed in front of the TV on occasion. The Musketeers is back, though the first episode started with the coffin of Cardinal Richelieu. Not exactly a surprise as he's currently touring time and space in another box, one that's much bigger on the inside. Lots of pretty young men in leather outfits, though, so all's not lost. Last night Broadchurch started again - as gripping as ever, ramping the tension right up. We're hooked once more. This is rare for us with anything on ITV - advertising breaks usually annoy us to the extent that we don't watch things on those channels if any sort of dramatic tension is likely to be involved, but this is just too good to miss.

Writing is not really happening much, for reasons which may be clear if you've read this far. I have two things in progress but on hold, and they may be some time. Pity, as sb_fag_ends has some tempting prompts this month. However, I did make it to an Italian lesson this evening and actually enjoyed it. Progress of a sort there, then.

Tags: bicester, broadchurch, me, musketeers, the wedding

You killed my father. Prepare to die...

The new Spring season has started on the Beeb and it's looking good. Sunday, the night for undemanding fluff, has been set up in fine style and will run till Easter.

First is Call the Midwife. I don't really enjoy Miranda Hart in her own stuff, but she is quite splendid in this. It's anodyne, but Judy Parfitt is wonderful and Jenny Agutter hits it perfectly.

Then it's The Musketeers. Lots of pretty boys swashing their buckles. A certain amount of nekkid body stuff. Luscious costumes. Lovely Czech settings. Peter Capaldi as a luscious baddy, working those eyebrows like anything.

It's a thousand miles from Dumas. It's doubly anachronistic - to the book and the 1630s. But it's funny, lively and a lot of fun. Sunday evenings in the depth of winter suddenly got a lot more bearable. I may need to make some icons.

Tags: musketeers