Of course it's sad that magic, ghosts and fairies don't exist. Even the toughest, bluntest, most rational of people must feel a kind little flicker in remembering the thrill of being tucked up in bed on rainy nights to be told the tooth fairy, Santa or the bogey man was coming.

Adulthood sweeps it all away, so who can blame grown-ups these days for reading Harry Potter or flocking to the cinema to watch hours upon hours of goblins, elves and magic rings. They might protest these are excellent books and films but surely it's all about trying to recapture the thrill of being told a ghost story, or believing that a prayer or magic word could make everything OK?

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (BBC1) provides plenty for those world-weary adults seeking a frisson of enchantment. Based on the huge novel by Susanna Clarke, it's set in early nineteenth century England where the idea of magic is mocked, even by magicians. In York, a society of 'gentleman magicians' meet to discuss the theory of magic but would ridicule anyone who attempts to 'do magic…and disturb our peace of mind!'

One timid little magician dares to question 'why is there no more magic done in England?' and arranges to meet the reclusive Mr Norrell who is not a 'gentleman magician' but a 'practical magician' and reluctantly gathers the cynics in York Minster on a snowy midnight to prove magic can and will be done. Perhaps borrowing from the special effects team who worked on Doctor Who's BLINK episode with the weeping angels, Norrell brings the cathedral's statues to life in a spectacular and sinister scene. 'Magic is restored to England!' the magicians declare and rush to tell the London newspapers, wondering if this means an old prophecy is about to be realised, whereby two magicians will rise up and change the world. Could he be the one to help England in its endless war against Napoleon?

Meanwhile, Jonathan Strange is a frilly, foppish chap in a frock coat, more concerned with charming his intended, Arabella, than performing magic. 'A man needs an occupation,' she tells him, and casting spells will hardly fit the bill, yet his tyrannical old father will not allow him to take on a useful role in life. 'You shall have no assistance in finding any occupation whilst I am living,' the old man growls, but his timely death frees Jonathan.

Having spent the last week in an apocalyptic frame of mind, I bought the old 1970s BBC drama, Survivors, and despite the grim subject matter spent some time mocking it for its seemingly cumbersome and juvenile production values. Someone is to be battered in the face with a shotgun, but this is done by a helper off screen carefully and slowly edging the gun onto the actor's face. It was a comical, not a dramatic effect. Compared to shabby 1970s drama, Jonathan Strange is quite magnificent, even if it does encourage us adults back into our childhoods.