Lazy Sunday Ramblings, Who-style

Today it is Sunday, March 15th, and at the time I started writing this post I was awake for almost three hours, having gone to sleep at roughly 5:45 this morning, buzzing off of one glass of Coke and having figured out how to successfully boost my TARDIS Team on Doctor Who: Legacy. I’ve never been one for RTFM before pitching head-long into games and the like, and thought for sure I would make it past Chapter One – AT LAST! – before crashing into bed. That’s when I did a Google search on Chapter One and had my illusions shattered. Rule #28: never RTFM. Just do it. My eyes gave out, begging for rest, after reaching “The Bells of Saint John: He Returns.”

Also a bit jarring that a single glass of Coke after 8:00 p.m. would keep me up all night, but such is being 43 and having questionable neurological functioning, I suppose.


On a related note, both my teenage son, who incidentally cosplays rather handsomely as the Ninth Doctor; and the mister, are now addicted to Doctor Who: Legacy.  What, oh what, have I done?


On another related note, my 12-year-old son just sat down beside me and showed me his tablet, on which he has loaded “our game.” Not sure if I should really call this “parenting done right,” but I can tell you that as his mother watching him struggle with what the late Sir Terry Pratchett so aptly termed “the embuggerance” of living with a disabling genetic disorder, there are few sounds more sweet than hearing him hiss, “Yesssss, I got a Victory!”


And again, somewhat tangentially, I am occasionally asked about my favourite New Who episode(s), and I have a few reasons for choosing this two-parter, “The Empty Child / The Doctor Dances.”

1) It marks the début of Captain Jack Harkness as a companion. I confess to being just the tiniest bit jealous of Rose Tyler in that episode. I’d have danced with both the Doctor and Captain Jack and no one would have had to ask me twice, Blitz or no blitz.

2) The Doctor showed that he wasn’t a complete and utter human-hating berk.

3) Nancy’s tenacity, and all that she did to look after the children. I loved, loved, loved her balls when she stood up to the odious Mr. Lloyd:

LLOYD: The police are on their way. I pay for the food on this table. The sweat on my brow, that food is. The sweat on my brow. Anything else you’d like? I’ve got a whole house here. Anything else you’d like to help yourself to?
NANCY: Yeah. I’d like some wire cutters, please. Something that can cut through barbed wire. Oh, and a torch. Don’t look like that, Mister Lloyd. I know you’ve got plenty of tools in here. I’ve been watching this house for ages. And I’d like another look round your kitchen cupboards. I was in a hurry the first time. I want to see if there’s anything I missed.
LLOYD: The food on this table
NANCY: It’s an awful lot of food, isn’t it, Mister Lloyd? A lot more than on anyone else’s table. Half this street thinks your missus must be messing about with Mister Haverstock, the butcher. But she’s not, is she? You are. Wire cutters. Torch. Food. And I’d like to use your bathroom before I leave, please. Oh, look. There’s the sweat on your brow.

4) When the Doctor tells Nancy that “[t]here isn’t a little boy born who wouldn’t tear the world apart to save his mummy,” I’d suggest the same of parents who would, given access to a crashed Chula medical transporter, gladly swathe themselves with the equivalent of a bolt of fabric in nanogenes if it meant healing what is physically broken in their child(ren). I know I would.



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