It's actually been a case of four going mad in this house since Christmas! But I have found one way of maintaining a semblance of sanity. The principal solution seems to be the tactical ignoring of everyone and everything, but this only works up to a point, as my years in the classroom should have told me. So, for the last two nights I have embraced the terriblision.
Since the digital thing I have admittedly made absolutely no effort whatsoever to fnd out anything at all about the overwhelming and incomprehensible array of lots of things to watch, But no longer! Last night I discovered that a careful use of the Guide button could transport you instantly to wall-to-wall Location, Location, Location and thence straight into uninterrupted episodes of Doc Martin. Good grief! Bliss.
Tonight I couldn't find the same select selection, and thought that we might see what all the River Cottage fuss has been about. I know. I come ridiculously late to all things. Ask anyone. The suns and I curled up with Robert Webb, Ruby Wax and Lee Mac, learning to cook the River Cottage way. If I say that all three of us were entranced enough to stop bouncing off sofas and each other, you'll understand.
Up until now I have thought of Hugh Whatsit as someone very esoteric and unpronounceable. Henceforth however Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall will be the TV hero who had my two young men discussing the relative merits of wilted spinach in your pancakes and bechamel sauce supper. And I will very soon be trying out that Victoria Sponge equation- weigh the eggs first and use the same weight of butter, sugar and flour. Boys very impressed with the cakes.
I did find some gorgeous images of the River Cottage three going mad in the Wisley-esque kitchen garden, but Blogger still seems to be blocking pictures. At least it has stopped blocking the blog list- I couldn't find any of you earlier, and then I felt very lost indeed!