WHEN Eva Kelly was diagnosed with terminal cancer last January, she invited a camera crew to document the last phase of her life.

She wanted to create a unique legacy for her family, especially for her young daughter Heather; it was a decision inspired, she said, by the memory of the sudden death of her own mother from a stroke. No doubt the presence of a TV camera was also therapy for Eva; it must have given her a focus for venting her feelings, and a mental safeguard of knowing she had to remain 'strong' to strangers. The result was Would You Believe: Last Words, almost thrown away in its half-hour slot on a Sunday night because, notwithstanding the real point of the exercise, it deserved to be seen by everyone.

Obviously, a programme such as this is only going to work if there's light to pierce the darkness, something to counterbalance the naturally grim subject matter.

This was provided in gallons by Eva, who remained humorous until the point that she could literally communicate no more, and by her husband Frank, who was brave and stoic throughout.

Still, it was almost impossibly painful to watch at times. The most difficult scenes were those of Eva's last hours in the hospice, but they also provided the programme with its most powerful, Renaissance-like image: Eva, naturally fair-haired, but left after chemotherapy with short, dark wisps on her head, vows to be buried as a blonde; hairdressers and nurses silently fuss about the ailing woman . . . breathing her last breaths . . . with spatulas, bowls of dye, and drips. It was one of a number of scenes that would have lingered long in the minds of anybody who saw this massively affecting, humbling, and ultimately inspiring programme.

Inspiring is also the word for the title character of Longford, a truelife drama based on the socialist peer and prisoners'-rights lobbyist who campaigned for the humane treatment of moors murderer Myra Hindley. The programme was ambiguous in its depiction of Hindley (Samantha Morton doing her wide-eyed, impassive thing again): there was a strong suggestion she used and manipulated Longford, and, near the end, she was allowed utter the chilling words "evil can be a spiritual experience too" to her devoutly religious champion.

Where it was in no doubt was in its message that no one is beyond being worthy of forgiveness.

Longford was played here, brilliantly, by Jim Broadbent, and was shown as a man of equal parts conviction and innocence, perhaps tied too strongly to simple Christian pieties, but with a huge, warm, heart. It was a performance of such subtle power, and you hoped every Daily Mail editor of the last 40 years was watching.

New 'adult' sci-fi drama Torchwood arrived on our screens last week in a blaze of bad language, blood and bonking.

'Adult' sci-fi TV? Now that's stretching credibility. Strip away all the finger-poised-on-thevolume-button elements and what you're left with here is a secondrate Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that's sure, in time, to test the tolerance of even culturally retarded grown-ups. Forget the aliens-on-the-loose nonsense though . . . the most implausible thing about Torchwood is that it's set in Wales. Now, I have nothing against science fiction, or indeed science fiction set in Wales: when I was small, I was a huge fan of a comic strip called 'The Steel Claw' which, if memory serves, was set in rural north Wales. I just say . . . if you're going to set a series in Wales, let it be in Wales. With its gratuitous aerial shots of sterile modern harbourside developments, it seemed at times that the only reason for Torchwood to exist was for its Welsh creator Russell T Davies to show how shiny, gleaming and New York-like Cardiff is looking these days (or so he thinks). The premise of the show is that the city is built on "a rift in space and time" that's letting all these nasty creatures in . . . which kind of rings true for anyone who's been to Cardiff and seen that it is indeed the stoolsmeared sphincter of hell.

How early did you correctly guess who the murderer (if a 14year old can be legally considered a murderer) was in Prime Suspect?

I hate to sound like a clever-clogs, but I guessed it towards the end of the first, tension-filled, part last weekend. That left part two kind of dragged out, leading to a denouement between Jane Tennison and the young killer that served as a reason for the older woman to reflect on the choices she'd made in life . . . conveniently enough, at the end of the very last Prime Suspect.

It was a generally excellent send-off though: gripping, gritty and the Tennison character nicely fleshed out . . . and it's not often you can talk about 'fleshing out' in relation to Helen Mirren and be referring to character development.