Every so often, and when you least expect it, a quiet little TV show hooks you in. You know, the ones that really relax you like River Cottage or Pie In The Sky or Name That Tune.
One such favourite of mine was daytime daubfest Watercolour Challenge with Hannah Gordon? Was there ever a more mellow show? Amateur artists, often with an inflated opinion of their own abilities, noodled about in the shadow of a cathedral or by a riverbank overhung with willow trees. Often in gently rained. Hannah would go from one artist to the next discussing technique, life, colour, love, etc. Then, at the end, there'd be a winner. What a lovely way to spend half an hour. Was there ever anything more soothing?
Since that got the axe there's been not much in that vein, but now I think I've found what I've been after. Tucked away on BBC2 at 8.30 on a Monday night is Antiques Master. I don't even know if it's series one, it's gone so under the radar. Here, four amateur collectors, often with an inflated opinion of their own abilities, are presented with a bunch of artefacts they must either put in the correct date order then value, identify an object from the past, answer questions on their chosen speciality then face a small quiz at the end of the show to determine the winner. Sandi Toksvig is your host, while Eric Knowles is the resident expert.
Shot - in all places - in a stately home in Burnley, these often pompous know-alls are soon shown up for what they are. You see them in antique markets and fares the length and breadth of Britiain, loudly proclaiming something to be worth a fortune, or misidentifying an object d'art. It's worth it to see the wind taken politely out of their sails, though last night they weren't too bad.
Sandi Toksvig is suitably jolly. In the hands of say Sue Perkins or David Dickinson it would be far too tense and noisy. She gets it just right. Her jokes are subtle and she's got a nice voice. Nasty line in suits though. She looks like Bernard Bresslaw on a daytrip to Cromer in 1974, only shorter.
We're reaching the semi-finals soon, and what I haven't gleaned about Spode or mid-Victorian spun glass is nobody's business. Catch it while you can. Some would call this a guilty pleasure, but not believing in such a thing I just call it pleasure. No need to feel guilty about liking something others may not. Only those who believe themselves to be on a higher cultural plane than everyone else have guilty pleasures.
Are you a fan?
