For many of us - especially perhaps Liam Fox this week - escapism is everything. From boredom. From endless Loose Women. From feelings of being as vastly unfulfilled as a Little Chef chef. Downton Abbey is one such retreat. It looks nice, it sounds nice and I bet it would smell nice too.
While Downton Abbey begins to flex its narrative muscles, Spooks, in its final season, has the far harder task of going out with a bang, not a whimper, while somehow satisfactorily tying up all the loose ends - by which, obviously, I mean section chief Harry Pearce and trusty sidekick Ruth Evershed finally eschewing love for country in favour of something a little less abstract.