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It starts very innocently. You’re sick, can’t get off the couch and when you’re not snoozing, you’re flicking through TV channels paying little attention to what is on.
Then, ever so slowly, you start to remember what time Loose Women is on and can discuss – in detail – the dish cooked for Dáithí and Maura on Today. If your illness lasts longer than a week, you will find yourself in a vortex of quiz shows, converted barns with beams, and reruns of 10-year-old soaps.
It happens to the best of us. I went from half-watching talk shows while in the hospital to asking my daughter to delay lunch so I could watch the end of Home and Away. After six weeks at home due to knee surgery, I am now an expert on many topics. Show me your antique and I’ll tell you its worth. I watch in disbelief as someone pays £50 for a figurine and I smile smugly, as it only makes £25 at auction. Thinking of buying a holiday home in Spain? I know where you can still get a two-bed apartment with a communal pool and sea views for under £100,000.
I’m obsessed with programmes devoted to finding the perfect house in the perfect location. Apparently, it must have at least two reception rooms, a huge island in the kitchen with a breakfast bar and room for a dining table with outdoor entertaining space. Seriously, how much entertaining do these people do?
I’ve texted the answer to every simple question that Daithi and Maura have posed and won absolutely nothing. I know lots of Pointless answers and I can make a six-letter word before the clocks stops on Countdown - but I don’t think I could beat the Eggheads.
Confusing
It can also be a little confusing, at times. I mean, I’m watching a very young Tom Selleck solve crimes as Magnum PI at 3pm, and by 10pm, an older (but still with the impressive mustache) Tom is New York Police Commissioner Regan.
Then there is Four in a Bed. If you’re not familiar with this programme, it’s four B&B owners staying in each other’s B&Bs, giving feedback and paying what they think the room is worth and one is then crowned the winner. They zealously try and find dust lurking on top of curtain rails, or on the skirting boards behind furniture in the bedrooms. Their day is made if they find a stray hair. In the morning, they order the most complicated breakfast – just to test the kitchen. Some of the comments make Mean Girls sound like angels.
Mind you, there’s no one to beat Judge Judy for sarcasm and a look that would cut you. You listen to the defendant explaining their case only to see her look of incredulity.
“You want her to pay for your broken TV because you broke it when you got upset because she broke up with you?”
I am considering a trip to New Zealand to sort out some of the problems on Shortland Street and, sure, while I’m there I’ll pop over to Summer Bay and clean up after Felicity and Tane’s wedding.
If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you need to take a duvet day and check it out. If you live on a farm, I guarantee you’ll start looking at the old sheds as possible barn conversions worth €1.2m when restored.
If, however, you too have been sucked into the world of afternoon TV, you’re probably wondering if the old vases in the attic are worth something, if you might be the next Countdown champion or perhaps if your local pub quiz team could beat the Eggheads. I’m even considering pitching the idea of a Real Housewives of Connemara series to RTÉ.
I’ll sign off now; it’s nearly time for Escape to the Country. I ponder, as I sit here in my ‘double aspect, sea view with family garden’ house, if I could move it to Cornwall where it would triple in value.
Maybe not – I’m sure I don’t have enough entertaining space.
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