The second season of Netflix’s soapy small-town saga has arrived to cure us of the winter blues. Here’s what you’ve been missing
Much as I like to keep an array of Georgette Heyers and Catherine Cooksons on my shelves for succour at times of mental hardship, so too I like to keep a romantical televisual endeavour or two tucked away on my watchlist. There have been many depredations upon both media in the godforsaken year of 2020. I have read everything from Regency Ponce to A Bathful of Clinkers, and watched everything Amy Sherman-Palladino ever breathed upon and Outlander twice, even though him in the kilt does nothing for me sexually at all. That’s the extremis 2020 has us in.
Bookwise, I am now staring down the barrel of Barbara Cartland and things were looking almost equally as bleak on the watchlist. But then, like a knight on a white charger, came the discovery of Virgin River, and the release of its second season on Netflix.