Let Chummy Be Chummy

If the nuns and nurses of Call The Midwife had stayed nuns and nurses forever and ever, it would have been just fine with me. I would have loved to keep watching the sisterhood (no pun intended) of women as they served their disadvantaged community and spread the gospel of proper pre- and post-natal care and then reconvened for fags and sweets and homey chatter in their hushed voices. (Okay, that last part was mostly the midwives and not so much then nuns.) But things change, people evolve, and by the time the second season ended, one nun was out of the order on her way to marriage; and one midwife was happily married and a brand-new mother. And the women of Nonnatus House, past and present, now all have to adapt -- which means, unfortunately, accepting the new strictures limiting their sisters' married lives.

While Shelagh -- formerly Sister Bernadette -- cheerfully shakes off her husband's offer to come work full-time as his receptionist because her stepson, who's recently been diagnosed with polio, needs her at home, my beloved Chummy is having a harder time dealing with life as a housewife, because of course she is. What we know about Chummy is that society's expectations mean nothing to her. She already defied her posh parents by becoming a nurse/midwife in the first place. She defied them even more by marrying a cop and wearing a suit to her wedding, and the suit wasn't even white if you know what I mean. She dared to pursue adventure by doing missionary work in Africa. Chummy's not scared of anyone or anything.

And yet, as we meet back up with the Mrs. Noakes version of Chummy in the Season 3 premiere, she's practically unrecognizable. She's channeling her considerable energies into the domestic pursuits that her new circumstances permit: making overly complicated food (and okay, Noakes, I get that you don't want to eat radish rosettes in front of the rest of the squad because they're too girly, but if you discover them before you get to work, you could always just EAT them before you get there instead of throwing out all Chummy's fancy work!); sprucing up their house by making scatter pillows that as soon as she makes them she evidently decides are bullshit. When the Nonnatus House ladies tell her they're anxious that the pregnant women of Poplar haven't shown up for their weekly clinic; as Shelagh puts it, "I'm not sure people know where the Community Centre is -- or what it's for! People are used to parish halls and missions; if something doesn't have a saint's name in front of it, I think they're a little suspicious." Chummy suggests that a PR campaign is in order; when Jenny says they don't have time, Chummy leaps on the opportunity! "If you haven't [got time], I have! Oceans of it! Acres! I'm knee-deep in time and you can have it all!"

Chummy has so much spirit, resourcefulness, and passion that are going unused that she kind of overdoes it, in classic Chummy style. Her first draft of a the grand opening leaflet promises all kinds of classes that are not actually on offer at the Community Centre but TOTALLY COULD BE, but still, no one she tries to inform seems to care. But when Peter tells her that he's going to be part of a security detail for an upcoming East End visit by Princess Margaret, Chummy's wheels start turning. We're reminded about her superposh past -- "Oh, but I haven't seen her since Pa was knighted!" -- and then it occurs to her that maybe the Princess's visit could include a stop at the clinic. She hand-writes a letter, receives one back on the heaviest paper anyone's ever seen, and puts together a beautiful event...but it's hard for her to be excited.

Volunteering in the community is one of the few "acceptable" paths for married women to channel their energies into, and yet even though the event is a success, for Chummy it's a hollow one. She's never wanted a life that's like her mother's in any way, and yet her staying home with "Young Sir" (hee) and filling her time with wifely stuff is the safe choice. But then the moment comes that changes Chummy's thinking about her life.

After the grand opening, Mrs. Torpy, pregnant with her fourth child, is in labour, and because of the Princess, roads are closed and the ambulance can't get through. Chummy offers to sit with her, but Mrs. Torpy isn't psyched about staying at her house with all the other kids running around being annoying (which: I feel that, and I'm not even in labour), so Chummy brings her to the Noakes house. Of course, Mrs. Torpy's baby comes faster than they thought; of course it's a complicated birth; and of course Chummy -- though terrified -- knows a couple of ways to free the baby's shoulder and save the day. (I also love the detail that, once the baby starts crying, Chummy matter-of-factly passes it through Mrs. Torpy's legs; obviously, decorum is not an issue after you've gotten placenta all over a near-stranger's rug.) "Talk about a day's work," beams Mrs. Torpy. Chummy:

This is how Chummy realizes what she needs to do, both to be of service and to keep herself from going actually crazy with boredom and/or misdirected energy. And since Timothy the polio kid is spry enough to bitch that his shoes are inconsistently polished, maybe Shelagh will get there too. But what's great about a show full of women is that the dignity of all kinds of choices is honoured and respected.

And now I'm crying, so I guess Call The Midwife is officially back.