I have a friend; a very good friend. A golden-hearted ray of the freshest sunshine. I’ll give you a for instance: a few months ago she acted out the entire last episode of the Night Manager, scene by scene for me. She told me exactly what had happened, who had said what, the camera angles, the music, what Jed wore, how Tom Hiddelston’s arse was holding up. The works. Because I can’t watch anything scary. Nothing violent. Not even a bit.
So no Holby City, let alone Game of Thrones. No lost pets or animal cruelty; I had to turn off Finding Nemo (howling) halfway through and I was neither watching it with a child, nor was I a mother. Oddly I managed Breaking Bad because it was so Pantomime-y but each episode took 80 minutes rather than 50 because I fast forwarded when I sensed violence building and then had to rewind and fast-forward and rewind and fast-forward ’til I got to the optimum position. I tried to watch Homeland with a Sunday night telly buddy but she got sick of me facing the wall with a cushion over my face whining “What’s happening?????”
So here’s the totally-not-million-dollar question… Is this because I have a huge, warm heart that so throbs with empathy that I can’t bear any pain in the world and am basically Mother Theresa? Is it because I am a drama queen who makes even Jon Snow’s (no, not that Jon Snow, the other one) terrible trials my own personal hell. Or am I just deeply controlling; too controlling even to allow a narrative to play out in front of my very eyes unless I am a stakeholder able to influence the outcome. You choose.