Poldark Series 1, Episode 5: Recap and Review

Some time has passed, measured in the length of Demelza's hair and the size of her baby bump. And speaking of time, after Francis hogged all the sea-staring seconds last week, this week there's a bit of a backlog.

For just as every dog has his day, so too shall everyone stare at the sea. Better to stare at it than Ruth Trenoglos' (née Teague) 'assets'. "Cover yourself, Missy!" scolds Demelza's father at baby Julia's christening. "Your place is to be decent and modest, not laying out your wares for men to slather over!"

I take it he's not tried her succulent syllabubs, then? If I were him I'd be telling Francis to put his priapic hat away, too. Inversely proportional to his fortunes, which are dwindling (much like his personality), Francis' hat seems to get taller every episode, extending further than Matthew Sanson's 'influence'. And that's saying something: according to Margaret, Sanson's 'influence' extends "almost everywhere". The more Francis wears it, the more comical that hat looks.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First to stare at the sea is heavily-pregnant Demelza, who shortly afterwards goes into labour during a production of Shakespeare's 'All's Well that Ends Well'. So engrossed in the play is Ross, Dr Enys has to remind him that a gallop over to Nampara is probably in order. "How did we make something so perfect?" Ross asks Demelza after baby Julia is born, proving that his biology still leaves a lot to be desired. Personally, I'm more intrigued about Jinny's invisible baby. How did she and Jim manage that?

We will have to wait for an answer because right now there's more sea-staring to be done. This is a habit that's instilled in Poldarkland's inhabitants from early on in life, and it's not long before Ross is looking out to sea with baby Julia in his arms. This charming scene, shot in soft-focus like a perfume advert, reminds us that Ross is not above carrying his baby in public, and is the perfect husband and father.

Or is he? "They're very different," says Verity as she catches Ross observing Demelza and Elizabeth together at baby Julia's christening.  "Yes," says Ross. "Yet each has something the other lacks." "Perhaps you'd like both?" asks Verity. It's a joke, and one that Ross doesn't get, as he admits that perhaps he would. You can go off some people, you know.

Not that I was ever really into him in the first place. Cue yet more sea-staring as Verity continues to pine for handsome Cap'n Blamey. And who can blame her? When Demelza pays him a secret visit in Truro, her attempts to reunite the pair are rebuffed when Blamey tells her he never thinks of Verity, and has moved on. "You're married," says Demelza. "To my ship," says he. "My profession. And I'm all the better for it."

Lucky ship. But all is not lost. Blamey's change of heart prompts Demelza to try again with another trip to Truro, this time taking Verity with her on the pretext of shopping for a new cloak (for herself, although Ruth Treneglos too is in great need). This trip is more successful, which presumably means we'll be seeing more of Verity and Blamey together. Hurray! Their comparatively ordinary looks are an antidote to the cloying gorgeousness of Ross and Demelza, and their relationship is grounded in something that feels more real. Possets all round!

Meanwhile, there's trouble at t'mines. With the copper on Demelza's head worth more than the copper in the land, Francis is desperate to recoup losses and procure funds for Wheal Grambler.

Nomen ist omen. "Pity he hasn't your skill at cards. Or in other ways..." says femme fatale Margaret to Ross at George Warleggan's house party. She knows how to flatter a man and, unlike the mine owners, has successfully cornered the market in her chosen profession, fleecing Francis of money and jewels as skilfully as snake-in-the-grass banker George Warleggan (who bears an uncanny resemblance to a young Hugh Grant) fleeces him of his mine.

Francis loses Grambler to "the infamous Matthew Sanson, mill owner and corn merchant" – he of the extensive 'influence' (and tall-hat wearer) –  and Warleggan will be able to buy it from him at a knock-down price. On learning the news, Elizabeth remains stoic, even as Francis continues to lie about his love for her. Perhaps that's why his hat is so tall – and hence too the obvious, heavy-handed butterfly and crashing waves symbolism.

'Resurgam', writes Francis on a wooden post as he breaks the news to his miners and their families, a word that was often inscribed on tombstones. "What does it  mean?" asks Demelza, whose background is occasionally used as a means of over-explaining. In this case Ross' Latin is clearly better than his biology, but did he have to spell that out to us too? Just as he'd spelt out the Wheal Grambler plot implications to Demelza earlier.

I think a spot of sea-staring is in order – any excuse, after all. Who doesn't love to look at the sea? I think there are a few sea-staring seconds left. Although I fear there's a backlog in galloping time also, and that we're due for a binge in that too, soon.