Recovering from my knee op means hours sitting around, with both legs raised on a footstool. Not a problem, thanks to my son lending me the boxed set of Twin Peaks. I vaguely remember this from the 1990s, when he as a teenager was regularly tuning into this weird soap which didn’t seem to be like anything I’d ever seen. It wasn’t, and I’m so pleased to have caught up with it after all these years. Original, witty, beautifully filmed and acted, it’s like The Simpsons in creating its own rich, fascinating world.
No, it’s not consistent throughout. There are bits of the second series which are tedious, guest actors overacting, lack of control as Frost and Lynch pursue other projects and the networks lose faith in what they’ve got. But the die-hard fans who still attend the conventions are right; don’t mourn the fact that the dream couldn’t last – just savour the episodes where it’s humming and unique, an amazing blend of fantasy, innocence and affectionate realism.