Wednesday, 2 April 2014

Private Practise.

Okay, I never really do this, but today, right now, I am. Evidently. Sorry, that was deadly obvious. Literally, seconds ago, I watched the last ever aired episode of Private Practise. It's kind of broke my heart, and left my chest with a gaping grief-ridden chasm where all my favourite characters used to be. For anyone who doesn't know, Private Practise is a US medical drama, originally marketed as a spin-off from Shonda Rhimes' very successful Grey's Anatomy. I first started watching Grey's by accident, but then, I fell into the trap. Someone mentioned Private Practise and I just became obsessed. More intimate than its counterpart based in Seattle, Private Practise is set in sunny, dreamy LA, where the sun always shines, and there's a constant backlog of patients for the doctors involved.

I won't give anything really away, because I hate it when people do that. With a PASSION. There's nothing worse than someone who is very adamant that they need to spoil your favourite television programme for you. I could stab those people in the eyes with very sharp pencils, and they still wouldn't get their just deserts. All I'll say is this, it's more than worth a watch. It will draw you in almost immediately. The storylines are brilliantly written, the characters are unbelievably well thought out, and honestly, I've seen every single episode, and each one leaves me with a different feeling, and yet, a more familiar one; every time the shot fades, the camera pans and the credits roll, there's something I always think:

'I wish I'd written that.'
With every ounce of my being, I love this programme. It's like my baby, my happy place and the thing I go to when all I need is comfort and to shed a few too many tears. Admittedly, it will make you cry, it will make you laugh, and more than likely, it'll make you go through a 'I want to be a doctor' phase, (but then again, I went through all that in my Grey's addiction.) So, it's brilliant. And my one true talent in life seems to be gushing about things I love (hey, could be worse, couldn't it?) As you can guess, I'm feeling a bit lost now. The final credits began to roll and I wanted to shout out and scream a negation of sorts, something to stop the end, cling onto the characters and envisage a new, perhaps more fitting, more satisfying ending for me. I can't remember the last time I was so attached to a programme, or so invested in it's characters. Private Practise has at times, been my salvation, and other times, my suffering. Lots of snacks, black coffee and tears later, through six whole seasons, two name changes, thousands of confessions, tense moments and happy celebrations. Here we are. The end is nigh. I'm blank, numb, empty. This is how all the best shows should leave you feeling; if they don't leave a bitter taste of nostalgia in your mouth, they haven't been worth the time.

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