Old Person TV

We seem to be watching rather a lot of what we jokingly call Old Person TV. You know the type – cosy Downton Abbey reruns, the repeated, gentle musings of Bob and Paul on Gone Fishing, repeats of Canal Boat Diaries and just about anything that graces the airwaves of PBS America (even though its programming schedule seems to operate on an eternal loop of repeats). 

There’s a comforting predictability to it all, a balm in an era where mainstream television has seemingly traded quality for quantity, pumping out a conveyor belt of popular fare that might titillate, but rarely informs, educates, or truly entertains in the sense Lord Reith envisaged. Admittedly, the BBC still manages to champion meaningful content now and then, but even its offerings feel like a diminishing oasis in a desert of banality.

It’s not that I actively set out to become a devotee of Old Person TV. It just sort of… happened. Bit by bit, I found myself drifting away from the cacophony of Love Island confessionals, overly produced reality shows, and dramas so formulaic they could be assembled by IKEA. Instead, I’ve embraced the slower pace and charm of programmes where nothing much happens but happens beautifully – a heron landing on a misty riverbank, a knowing glance between two Victorian-era servants, or a thoughtful documentary voiceover reminding me of forgotten corners of history.

It’s an odd sensation, this creeping acknowledgment of tastes mellowing with age. My younger self would likely have scoffed at my newfound penchant for the sedate, but there’s a satisfaction in leaning into it. I’d even argue it’s a quiet rebellion against the algorithms that dictate so much of modern entertainment. Not every moment needs to be a dopamine-charged thrill ride; sometimes, it’s enough to sit back and let the stories unfold at their own pace.

Still, I catch myself wondering if this is the beginning of some slippery slope. Today it’s Downton, Gone Fishing, and PBS America; tomorrow, am I doomed to start researching the merits of cremation packages, browsing glossy brochures for over-50s river cruises, or – heaven forbid – installing a walk-in bath? It’s a slightly unnerving thought, though not entirely unwelcome. After all, there’s a certain appeal to simplicity and comfort as the years march on.

For now, I’ll keep revelling in the unhurried joys of Old Person TV while keeping one eye on the streaming service offerings for that occasional nugget of modern brilliance. Perhaps it’s not so much about growing older as it is about seeking out what feels genuine in an increasingly artificial world. If that’s the case, I’ll gladly take my cup of tea, my cosy blanket, and another episode of something that soothes rather than screams - and retire to bed at 8pm. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll hold off on the walk-in bath or cremation plan for a little while longer; however, the latter could be achieved simply by leaving the gas on in the house and lighting a match - it would benefit from being a home cremation.

I wonder if GB News is considered Old Person TV, not that I'd ever watch it. GB News allegedly sounds like the televisual equivalent of a Werther’s Original – comforting, vaguely familiar, and firmly lodged in your nan's handbag of viewing options. It's where presenters deliver the news with the urgency of someone reminiscing about ration books, and every segment feels tailored to the eternal battle against avocado toast and youth culture. The channel is a haven for anyone who thinks Wi-Fi sounds like a type of cardigan and firmly believes the best way to solve a modern problem is with a good grumble. Watching GB News is less about staying informed and more about basking in a cosy, parallel universe where it's perpetually 1953 and everything new is suspicious by default.