A Day at Downton Abbey:

Last year, we were required to pick an image and create a scenario, and run with it. So here was/is (it is still existing so…) mine, enjoy :)

A day at Downton:

It was a perfect summer’s day- had I not been working, I would’ve happily got some more flesh out.

But nope; instead I was corrected by a 3-piece suit.

Of all days; they decided that today HAD to be the day, that we shoot the final scene of the series…having had three consecutive weeks of glorious sun- a drought in comparison to the ever-pissing British rain- it seemed pushing it to delay it, this far.

Add to that, the bonus of filming in Scotland- and you wonder how our executive team still have jobs.

Having endured four-and-a-half hours of make-up and costume “altering”- (“Oh yes, the hem of those trousers is too long”, “The chest is rather tight, let’s just let some out”)- I was finally ready, and standing on set.

Admittedly; the grounds were beautiful, despite usually being doused by the torrential rain or tended to by the most sour of scots.

Yes, it was beautiful.

Trying to “look on the brighter side”- after all, my character had just got engaged and I was supposed to be “overcome with joy”- I inspected the hem of my costume.

I had to admit; they were bloody good at what they do- I mean, one would hope so with the pay cheque they get.

“Lights. Camera. Action.”

And Michelle began: “Oh Matthew, it is a rather a splendid feat to have overcome such treacherous events, to arrive at this point. Such misery and pain, have I endured- I mean we- have endured, together. The Crimea…the loss of Andrew…and now…”

Her dribble continued…I half heartedly listened, waiting for the cue word to signify the ending of her spiel and the beginning of mine.

“Matthew, I will happily take your hand in marriage. I will happily spend the entirety of my life with you, in splendid harmony.”

Yes; it was now my turn to take and “declare my tender love and devotion” to her- incase the viewers had, by some miracle, missed the numerous “passionate” kisses laced throughout the series. Incase they hadn’t noticed the chapped and parched expanse of my lips.

“Mary, you have been a beacon to me- guiding me, a ship through the tremendous comings and goings of life…”

And as suddenly as the cue word had arrive and I begun; my interlude was punctured.

It was through brute force. I was assaulted by a visious and yet ominous presence. It seemed to roll over me, like that of the clouds from a brewing storm. It’s tendrils slithering into all of my senses. My brain couldn’t quite succumb to the subdued aura that it brought with it, as my senses were indoctrinated.

It was surprisingly calming and yet had the distinctive noxious smell of sulphur.

An overwhelming smog had descended upon me, the words about to leave the tip of my tongue, faulted and tripped. The result:

“I would not have survighuuuugh…”

Cough. Splutter. Cough.

“Cut.”

My surroundings seemed to warp and slow down; like treacle pouring out of a can, as if the whole world were instantaneously underwater.

I staggered forward.

“Dan, are you okay?”

The crew seemed fairly ticked off- seemed like they too had become frustrated by the ongoings of this series.

I began sniffing.

Trying to pinpoint the origin of the smell- yes, it had taken me a few seconds to finally get my disgruntled and disrupted brain to focus.

But goddamn it, what was that smell?

It left an acrid taste in my mouth, and set my nostrils ablaze with a fire that could not be abated.

“Ready to go again?”

I whirled around, and glared at Michelle. Who was stood awkwardly, straightening her garments.

She was mere centimetres away from me, when I was assaulted. It seemed; whatever it was, seemed to be emanating from within her.

Maybe it was her perfume?

I wore a mask of confusion; which I saw was mirrored on the faces of the crew, as I surveyed the surroundings once more.

As comprehension dawned, I walked stiffly back to my position. It was about being professional, certainly something Michelle couldn’t do. She should have simply asked to go to the toilet- no one would ask questions, and it would simply avoid misfortunate events like this.

A look of disgust plastered over my face. Michelle seemed oblivious, and made a point of avoiding eye contact, and instead gazed off into the distant horizon.

“Ready?”

I straightened my ruffled jacket and redid my top button- which must’ve popped open amidst my breathing struggles.

What had she eaten for lunch?

The scene began again:

“Oh Matthew, it is rather a splendid feat…”

By the end; the smell had dissipated as had the crew- off to add “the finishing touches” which would surely include photoshopping and airbrushing.

Leaving Michelle and I, alone.

* * *

I stood ramrod stiff.

Oh bugger me.

Do you think he noticed?

Well he seemed fine, his speech was unhindered. And the rest of the scene was flawless, aside from the little ‘hiccup’. You could understand why Downton got the awards it did.

But. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. What have I done?

I kept drilling myself with rhetorical questions, which led nowhere- whilst all the while Dan was getting closer.

I shouldn’t of had that curry, I should’ve listened to my conscious. I mean, I had been warned about having irritable bowels.

But those smells- that delicious, exotic, tropical incense that seemed to radiate from the buffet this morning. They were too intoxicating to resist.

I even rationed my portion. It must’ve been the cumin.

“Michelle?”

Oh Crap. Oh Crap. Oh Crap. What do I say?

I turned around, mouth flapping like a fish, and raised my hand- in a half wave, half surrender gesture.

Unsure what to do, he raised his too.

“High five!”

As soon as the words had left my mouth, I winced.

A few seconds passed by; and I began grinding my toe into the grass, creating a mushed crater.

The costume department wouldn’t be happy about that, the lace detailing; ruined.

“How was the curry?” Dan asked, a mocking glint illuminated his eyes.