Headbands remain in

The experience of blogging while watching Downton Abbey versus doing the same for The Bachelor is somewhat similar, as I can never remember the names of the characters/contestants. There are fewer make out sessions and fewer bikinis in DA, but no shortage of tears, though often withheld because of the stiff British upper lip. One thing that is not at all the same is that the scenes change more rapidly. We move from the kitchen to the dining room, to putting on shawls, to peeling off gloves for bedtime. It's hard to keep up.

I believe that Mr. Barrow, the homosexual butler, may have a crush on the new whatever that younger guy is (footman? I thought they only really existed in Cinderella).

The debate continues about where the Carson wedding will be held. Lady Simper asks what the severe looking woman (Miss Hughes) wants. Miss Hughes says that she wants to have her own breakfast reception and then a bit of hooey. Mary wants to know why Carson doesn't want to celebrate where he has served for decades. The mother tells Mary to stop bullying the servants and Mary tells her mother to stop being a snob. And to stop talking in that mewly voice.

A fire is lit in every single room. Where do they go to the bathroom, one wonders? Mr. Barrow puts on his bowler hat to go to a job interview in a decrepit looking home. The door is answered by an old gentleman who may also be the lord of the house.

Lady Edith runs into her new love interest, some agent with greased back brown hair and a bright blue tie to match his eyes. He asks her out for a drink and she agrees to meet him at 7

Back to the interview scene. The house is deserted. The lord is Sir Michael, and he wears a chain pocket watch. What can he want with Barrows? This may be foreshadowing for what could happen to Downton Abbey. It is the end of the era and now the bear rugs and deer heads have nowhere to rest. Barrow is dismayed by the mess. It's like Hoarders circa the early 20th Century, with books falling off the shelves and sheet music everywhere.

Edith yells at her boss and takes over the magazine. She has forgotten her date at the bar, and must run out to be hit by a streetcar or something. Maybe he will come help her. Oh, yes, he will. He will fetch sandwiches and mimeograph or whatever it is they did in those days. He is very hands on and good with the typewriter. "A match made in heaven," says Dan.

I don't understand this side story with the maid and butler from the old lady's house. The constable shows up and asks him if he knows Wally Stern, which explains why the bell the rang earlier. She lies for him, even though they don't seem to like each other. Perhaps she will use it as leverage to blackmail him. She tells him that she knows that he put the convict up in the potter's shed. What is that?

Is there any reason why they can't delay the layout of the magazine until the next day? We see them working late, hurrying to put together captions and drawings of men with mustaches and ladies dancing in social settings. In real life, they would both smell terribly, because this was back in the days before deodorant got really effective.

They are kind of beating us over head with the idea that this era is ending.

The cook is disappointed that the frock she ordered for her friend is boring. They will come up with a new plan. Mary will add her pearls or trinkets to it or maybe a bit of fringe from one of the many lamps. It's like Gone with the Wind; they will figure something out with the curtains so that Missus Hughes can descend the staircase or hop off the horse or whatever, perhaps with her hair down for the first time, and we will discover that it is luxurious and falls past her knees, like Lady Godiva only with wrinkles.

Her ladyship is quite angry that the female servants are trying on her fur coats without her permission. Mary confronts her and says that her mother acted mean. She comes to apologize to Missus Hughes, bearing an armful of coats she hasn't worn in twenty years. When will they kill her off, for God's sake? Mr. Carson and Missus Hughes contemplate their last night on their respective twin beds and Dan says many things that are not fit for PBS television watchers.

The day of the wedding arrives. The roses are brought in a box The Bachelor, they are white. Now we are in the church, and both sides have come together to celebrate this union and this hat. The poor sit to the right. They are pronounced. I guess they don't kiss in those days. Cue the bagpipes. The townsfolk have gathered to throw petals at them.

I believe they are having the reception in the Potter's Shed where the convict has fled.

Anna is pregnant, but doesn't want to tell her husband in case it's not going to stick.

Mr. Carson calls the room to order to make a toast and proclaim that he is the happiest of all men to have this gracious woman accept him. Tom shows up with his daughter Sibby. Thank God, now we can get on with the plot where Mary and Tom fall in love. Bet on it. Edith asks him what happened and he says he had to go all the way to Boston to learn that Downton is his home and they are his family. He French kisses Mary. The children embrace each other, even the sickly looking, wan one belonging to Edith who wouldn't make it in real life.

Next week: they all go up in a hot air balloons and ski on the back of motorboats and try to get Mr. Barrow to explode ("Mr. Barrows, how dare you explode at our wedding!"). Oh, no, wait, that would be The Bachelor. Stay tuned.