Sunday Night Television

I fear I'm about to become a Sunday night television junkie. I'm already completely addicted to Robin Hood. Now I think I might be hooked on East of Everything. Did you watch it? What did you think?

Robin Hood is deliciously old-fashioned - even if it does have a much-discussed 'modern sensibility'. But it reminds me of the television I used to watch. Self-contained episodes. Gorgeous boys. A feisty woman (or, in this case, two). This was in the days before the mini-series and reality television. It's the formula that worked for shows like Eight is Enough, Valley of the Giants, The Hardy Boys. Even The Flying Doctors. And then there was Magnum PI. Ah, it takes me back. And let's face it: the men in Robin Hood are all gorgeous. Even the wicked ones.

East of Everything has some similar elements. Good-looking men, for one. A couple of feisty women. Plus it would seem to be well-written and the location is blissfully and beautifully Australian. The first episode wasn't at all creaky. Oh, okay, yes, the plot does seem a bit contrived. I mean, three months to re-open the resort that hasn't had a booking for years? Where will the two brothers find the money for that? But unlike the almost-dreadful Emerald Falls which was on last weekend, East of Everything has a lot of appeal. I'm already intrigued. I do want to know what will happen to Lizzie and Bev in particular. Their stories seem to hint at some originality, even if Art feels like the kind of television character we've met before.

So don't ask me to do anything on a Sunday night for the next few weeks. I have a date with the tv set. It makes such a change from watching the only other highlights of my tv week: The Collectors and Stuff (yes, there is a theme there). Oh, and ABC Kids. I love ABC Kids. Children's television is so much more imaginative than the adult stuff. But don't get me started.

Dallying at the National

It has become our habit to spend Easter at the National Folk Festival. Mr M attended his first when he was barely six months old. This year was his fourth festival and it made taking a tiny baby look easy-peasy. After four days (and three seasons - we froze on Friday, sweltered on Sunday, and were rained on today), we are all exhausted and I'm convinced a leash is a very good thing.

Unlike previous years when we'd find some good music, find a chair and sit and listen for the best part of an hour, this year we struggled to listen to any music at all. Partly, this was due to Mr M who just couldn't or wouldn't sit still. Each time we entered a venue, he'd ask if The Wiggles or Hi-5 were going to be there. As the answer was always 'no', he was always disappointed. So, we managed to hear:

• three songs by the Dujks
• one song by the haBiBis
• most of a concert by slide guitarist Richard Steele
• maybe three songs by George Jackson and Davydd McDonald
• two pieces by the Griffyn Ensemble
• three pieces by Jim Conway's Big Wheel
• one and a half songs by Mr Fibby
• three, maybe three and a half songs by Trouble in the Kitchen.

Not a huge amount of music spread over four days. We did, however, do lots of 'kiddy' things. We queued for face painting (once), for balloons (twice). We sat on asphalt and watched street theatre. We chased a pair of 'ducks' around the festival on at least two occasions. We bought hot dogs, strawberry ice-cream, and donuts (not simultaneously). We sat on the asphalt again to watch Irish drumming workshops. We played marbles in the kid's tent. We watched the Morris dancers more than once. Mr M loved the Morris dancers - although when asked whether he liked the dancing or the music best, he said it was the music he loved. And we watched a fantastic, traditional Punch and Judy show.

We also 'lost' Mr M at least twice (hence the attraction of the leash) and lost forever his current favourite hat. So we spent quite a bit of time visiting lost property, which entailed going up and down stairs. And we spent quite a bit more time going to the toilet (a slow process at the best of times because someone likes to take off all his clothes).

Still, the thing I like best about the folk festival is the sense of community it generates. And although this year we ran foul of the folk Nazis (one of whom complained about Mr M playing with the game pieces left on tables for people to play with in one of the venues) and crossed swords with the chair Nazis (one of whom really did need SEVEN chairs, not one of which was sat on in the 20 minutes J was waiting), we met some lovely people. Sharing tables, we chatted to Max, one of the founders of the Gympie Muster, and his wife. We also met two blokes from Sydney, who didn't object at all when Mr M helped himself to their prawn chips. And we ran into many people that we rarely see these days (as well as many that we do see) and so enjoyed lots of brief, catch-up conversations.

And now Easter is over and we still haven't reached the end of March. Happy Easter.