Continuance...

maaseru came back from Nova Scotia yesterday, so I visited for a bit. She laughed (kindly, I hope) at my Doctor Who enthusiasm.

Then I watched more episodes:

World War Three - more wackiness. Seemed to me there weren't as many great snappy lines as usual. Loved all the running back and forth in 10 Downing St.

Dalek - Brilliant. At first it seemed somewhat out of character for the Doctor, but then I remembered I was watching out of order, and it's easy to believe that he learned things in this episode that show up more in The Doctor Dances. In fact, I can see a direct parallel: this episode is about races dying. In The Doctor Dances, "everybody lives".

The Long Game - Interesting ideas about freedom of thought, and freedom of speech, and self-imposed intellectual limitations. I have nothing clever to say about it (yet) but I did love the Doctor, I thought Cathica was wonderful, and I particularly liked Nine's interplay with Adam. Adam, like Captain Jack, does the stupid, wrong thing for selfish reasons; Adam, unlike Captain Jack, does not rise above his errors.

I dreamed I was going away somewhere for a long time in a spaceship, bringing on as baggage a set of oversized metal mixing bowls. There's Doctor Who influence in there, obviously, but if I'm going to have fannish Doctor Who dreams, how can I instruct my subconscious to make them about the ninth Doctor, please, or maybe Captain Jack, not about metal bowls?

Thank you...

I just wanted to thank wijsgeer on two counts. First, she was kind enough to offer to photocopy an article in the history journal Speculum for me. I am happy to report that Interlibrary Loan came through and got me a photocopy of it from the National Library of Canada. Sometimes those people are amazingly obliging.

And she was also kind enough to send me a Doctor Who episode I hadn't found yet, The Girl in the Fireplace, which I hear is superb.

I gave into my fannish passion and ordered the DVD set of Doctor Who 2005 because it is becoming absolutely clear to me that I will not be able to talk myself out of it.

Doctor Who: The Christmas Invasion...

I ate at Pat and Sandi's place; chicken and salad for supper, followed by a lovely dessert - I brought fresh blueberries, Pat and Sandi provided ice cream, and we had them together.

Then we watched Doctor Who: Christmas Special. It wrenched me momentarily away from my current Christopher Eccleston obsession and dropped me nicely into the ambiance of Tennant affection. I particularly liked him fighting for the future of the planet in bedroom slippers and pyjamas: it was like a scene out of a Lois McMaster Bujold novel.

I love the magic of a cup of tea. My mother used to swear by the power of a cup of tea, too - though she wasn't much like Rose's Mum. I tend to think she was right, but it was probably a remedy more for emotional ills than physical ones. I don't think she was considering full bodily regeneration.

For once, I liked the ugly aliens. Their language sounded a little like the Black Speech of Mordor.