We're not big television watchers in this house; the only exceptions seem to be programmes about single males with some otherworldly powers (namely Merlin, Dr Who and Sherlock). The iplayer gets hammered a little more, but I am prone to only ever looking at the 'Factual' category and then watching something about illuminated manuscripts or dark matter until way past midnight.
However, as Mr T had been away testing his mettle against Scottish mountains and Scottish weather all weekend, I decided some r 'n' r was required on Sunday night. Birdsong was recommended (and good it was), but because I flopped in front of the tele early, when I turned on BBC1 I found myself watching Call The Midwife.
The programme could have made for me. Set in Poplar (an area of dockland London I have known for over forty years), it's all centred around the nuns of Nonnatus House, who are an Anglican order and serve through midwifery. And what nuns! There's the wise, patient Sister Jenny Agutter, the irascible, always practical Sister Pam Ferris and best of all the mad-as-a-box-of-frogs-but-makes-gnomic-utterances-so-listen-hard Sister Judy Parfitt.
Then we have the non-nun midwifes who also live and work at Nonnatus House: the glamorous one who talks about fashion and 'chaps', the swotty one who quotes Shakespeare a bit, the posh, clumsy giant who has a 'calling' and the central character, Nurse Jenny Lee, who brilliantly stalks the whole programme as a cipher, so that we can see through her eyes.
Is it all cock-er-knee-gor-blimey-hearts-of-gold guff? Definitely not entirely. The series is based on the memoirs of Jennifer Worth, and the BBC has shirked no production values in reproducing the docks, the men and the women of the era and the realities of childbirth at that time. Episode 2 concluded with a breech delivery by a woman of 42 who actually looked at least ten years older.
There are beautiful, quiet moments as the dramatic (truly) stories progress - the nuns at Compline contrasted with street girls; a wonderful Miranda Hart (the posh midwife) hunched over a sewing machine late at night making herself a uniform that fits, looking to fit in; the rescued prostitute stroking her swelling stomach, and in a clean bed for the first time in her short life.
The shock is that all this takes place in 1957. It feels like I imagine the thirties were, but by this very year my own mother had two children with 'another on the way'. I was born just six years later. I actually, unmetaphorically, shook my head a few times as I re-pondered this fact whilst watching.
So, Call The Midwife. Great stories, great births, great nuns. Watch it if you can.
Other nun-related posts here:
http://titusthedog.blogspot.com/2009/07/weavers-inspiration-meme.html
http://titusthedog.blogspot.com/2010/08/news-bits-bobs-launches-to-come-prizes.html
Geek points: Saint Raymond Nonnatus is a Spanish saint, and the patron saint of childbirth and midwives. His name means 'not born', as he was delivered by caesarean section back in 1240.
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