I thought I was over love stories. We lost Bridget Jones to … age, sadly. Even she grew older.

HOWEVER! Love stories in Resurrection are fabulous. I am on board again. Yay!

Bamsi fell in love! Got married and we wait for a baby. Bamsi is the autistic warrior. A story teller but he doesn’t get jokes (autism give away). And the handsome Turgut is about to marry. First the men have to conquer the enemy faraway.

Midst treachery, I might add, there is joy and full blown love of brother, mother and beloveds.

This is a romantic piece. Villains are clear. Heroes are larger than life. Perfect. I shall be mortified when I get to the end of this series.

I am as keen to chop of the scoundrel’s head as he is, but one can only chop off a head the right way. The villains deserve decapitation. No one goes mooshy for villains.

Curiously, none of the so-called Christians know how to make the sign of the cross. There is ring kissing though. I have never liked the practice even though I grew up Catholic. Perhaps this is a failing of mine. I am not submissive to other men’s ornate rings. Kisses are not to be extracted by some authority. I am more likely to kiss the hands of a beggar.

Anyway, the resurrection of love stories is what I celebrate today. I thought I had become cynical in my old age. I am delighted that it is not cynicism, but a dearth of true romance in pictures!

I am waiting for the beheading of a scoundrel now. It is going to take a while. He would fit in a Dickens story. I don’t know if I would have been as patient as Ertugrul is.

Now my TV is dominated by Space Jungle. It has no language. Just sounds. Body language and expressions are clear. My grandchildren vary in age. One wants a bottle. The other wants a snack and the eldest is glued to the series. The girls are pestering each other.

I sneak a peak at Resurrection and that scoundrel organised a terrible scene. At my last look Ertugrul’s head was on the earth!

I have to wait till tomorrow to see how that happened. I knew they should have taken the scoundrel’s head when it was floating about under a crownified hat. Ugh! He is credited with cunning, as though that is a good thing.

Honour takes the focus in this series and treachery is unmasked. I have endured scoundrels in my time. The office is full of them. Honour is still hugely appealing and guile is still bitter as bile.

Our beloved babes are sleeping. I am ready to fold into my pillow. The wind is full of woohing tonight. Winter is here. A house party close by plays gay dance music. That’s new to the neighbourhood.

Too much information, I am sure.


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