I love to read and binge-watch English murder mysteries. Through Acorn and Britbox, if I am not careful, I will spend every waking hour watching the wonderful detective chief inspectors and coroners and their sidekicks solve the deaths of people in the small villages in England or in London with London Kills. Morse, Lewis, Gently, Father Brown, John and Tom Barnaby, Nikki Alexander, and others thoroughly entertain me. I hate waiting for each new season, but admittedly, I take that opportunity to look for a new hero or shero to get to know and like immensely.
As if watching television is not enough, I also read British murder mysteries. I am a true American and love my country, but the British just do murder better, and the outcomes where they always get the villain is so satisfying to someone who believes that good will win over evil. Acorn and Britbox also have mysteries from Australia, Scotland, France, and other parts of the world, which allows me to travel precariously and see such beautiful places that I probably will never visit.
Once a day, at least, I steal away from my real life to the land of “guv” and just find joy in the solving of crime. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t get any joy out of people dying, just of finding the culprit and making them pay. I will admit that I continue to read and watch because I am still not good at discovering the killers. These moments of pure escapism bring me joy, and I am saddened when one of the shows ends. Last night, I finished watching the last episode of George Gently, but now I can finally get to season four of London Kills as I await the next season of My Life is Murder and Candace Renoir, my sheroes.
Help from Heaven 
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