Old Charlie would take a couple days off because he had been on a binge. It didn’t matter because old Charlie owned the business. The employees would shake their heads, purse their lips and pick up Charlie’s absent duties.
Then there was the beautiful daughter of some friends who was diagnosed with an eating disorder. This was years ago in the ‘60s when a new term, for we lay people, became common. Binge and Purge. Sounded like a quirky English Pub sign above an ancient wooden entrance.
For my limited vocabulary the word ‘binge’ was used for drinking or eating too much.
Like millions of others this past week, I binged. Not on food, not on booze. On Netflix…once again.
I can’t recommend a finer new series.
It doesn’t have the mouth-dropping scenes of “Breaking Bad” or the oh my god shocks and twists of “Game of Thrones.”
Some of us, very few left, remember the televised (black and white) ceremony of Queen Elizabeth (still kicking, still queening) taking the throne. Her father, the late King, was an accidental ruler because his brother, King Edward abdicated the throne to marry the American Socialite, Wallis Simpson. She was divorcing her second husband when the King announced he was going to be husband number three.
Nope. The kingly-rules stuff says you can’t do that. So young handsome Edward said he could care less about being the King if he couldn’t have the woman he loved.
You can’t make that stuff up.
His brother was then chosen as the rightful kingly dude and his daughter, Elizabeth, became the next err to the throne.
So this true Hollywood style story, sat inside and outside of the most elegant buildings possible, is a binge watcher.
Try it, you’ll love it.