Tag Archives: the doctor

Crazy Christmas

PROGRESS UPDATE: Friday 28th December 2012.

EMOTION: Nervous but happy.

WHY: Happy with how much revision I’ve done, but nervous that I’ll look back on this week and consider it insufficient.

CURRENT REVISION COMPLETED: Jekyll & Hyde Activity sheets; Bitesize Chemistry revision; Biology Progress sheet; German Writing transcript; 3 Of Mice & Men mind-maps; and reviewing Of Mice & Men notes.

MOMENTS OF JOY: Watching Outnumbered and seeing the parents squirm in the face of the norovirus; grinning from earlobe to earlobe at Jenna Louise-Coleman’s (the Doctor’s new companion in the Christmas special) wittiness and humour; finally recognsing the tune and lyrics to “Call Me Maybe”; seeing Miranda back in form; laughing at Artemis Fowl; and so much karaoke!

GREATEST MOMENT SO FAR: Boxing Day. Playing charades. My role: Dancer. My clues: Gangnam Style & Macarena! Oppa Gangnam Style! Heeey Macarena!

BIGGEST MOMENT(S) OF ANNOYANCE SO FAR: Karen seldom appearing in the Outnumbered Xmas Special.

BIGGEST SHOCK SO FAR: Seeing (and hearing) Ben from Outnumbered all grown-up!

FINISHING SENTENCE: Craziest cracker of a Christmas.

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Back To School

At the beginning of the summer holiday, I found a box in my yard. A blue box. A big blue box with cream white windows and the words “POLICE BOX” written across the top. A man wearing a bow tie opened the door and grinned at me. He didn’t even need to ask. I stepped into the TARDIS and let the Doctor whisk me away.

For six weeks.

Metaphorically.

I’m leaving this summer holiday feeling like I’ve just travelled through time and space. I broke the laws of time by going through six weeks in a matter of what feels like just a single week. So that’s why I had the anecdote at the beginning. Sorry if I got your hopes up.

Today was spent finishing off my summer homework and preparing for tomorrow. I packed everything, since I didn’t know the timetable. At the end, I lifted up my school bag and thought, “Hello again, my old friend the ridiculously heavy bag.” I also spent it watching about ten episodes of the Big Bang Theory (Season 5) since I got it on my birthday. Watching the consequences of Amy’s date for Sheldon unfold really tickles my funny bone (Super Mario Bros. Theme Tune, strawberry milkshake, then the highlight: spaghetti with little hot dogs cut up in it — if you’re a Big Bang Theory fan, this should be your first meal at university (if you do go); if you’re a Doctor Who fan…fish fingers and custard)!

There are of course, the obvious worries about going back to school: this year promises to be chock-a-block with exams and controlled assessments and difficult stuff to learn; it’s going to be too close for comfort going back to school right after spending your summer chilling out and doing nothing; and if you haven’t seen some of your friends over the summer, you feel a tad strange about meeting them again (although this feeling disappears abruptly as soon as you do meet them).

But there are also the positives: you get to be with your favourite teachers again, be they jumpy and good-tempered, or insane yet intelligent with the mentality of a five-year-old; you get to meet the friends you’ve missed over the summer; and some people (like me) just like going to school because it keeps them busy and they feel totally unequipped without a rucksack over their shoulders.

But school will also mean less blogging, as I have done so much of over the summer that it’s perhaps bordering on obsession. But I enjoy it, so it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to blog any more.  Far from it, I’m still going to blog as much as I can, as long as my homework and revision and other stuff are in control.

Live long and prosper, everyone! 😀

Gas Masks

For some, it means childhood. For some, it means history. For me, it means nightmares, phobia of second world war museums, and haunting nightmares of cracking skin, bottomless black eyes and screaming. Endless screaming.

I decided to write this post after Doctor Who posted a photo on Facebook of a gas-mask-wearing-zombie (or, as I call them, GMZs). Just one look and all my nightmares, all my memories, all my goosebumps came flooding back to me. What also did not help was dreaming about GMZs yesterday night. I dreamt that I had been given for my birthday a wearable replica of the gas mask from the Doctor Who episode The Empty Child, and I told the giver that I wanted them to return it, because it gave me nightmares and I was scared of it. In fact in that dream, just to prove my point, I remember being a sub-dream where I was being chased by a GMZ. But this was one of those dreams where you can’t run probably, but where you leaping bounds that only take you an inch per stride. The GMZ’s finger was reaching out. One touch, and my face would quiver. My eye sockets would bulge open, my eye balls morphing into bottomless rimmed black glass. My mouth would crack open, and I would cough out a gas canister. A strap would tighten like a vice round my matted hair. And my voicebox, my freedom to speak my mind, would be no more but a servant to the ghastly phrase.

I saw The Empty Child seven years ago, and it has not escaped my memory since. The plot was amazing. The characters were amazing. But the monsters were…MORTIFYING. Far off shots of them were  OK. What did NOT help was seeing ‘The Empty Child’ up-close, almost as if you could touch lips with the gas canister. And the voice. That innocent, childish, liquid-nitrogen-cold voice, whimpering tortuously, “Are you my mummy?” And the finger. That dirt-stained finger, wielding the power to put victims through a hellish transformation, turning flesh into stagnant black leather, turning eyes into ghastly glass rims, turning into lips and teeth into a protrusive gas canister which the victim is forced to choke out.

Whenever I go into a ‘Doctor Who Experience’ or a History Museum which is likely to mention the Second World War, I am always on the lookout for gas masks (well, not really. I just keep facing forward in each room and rely on signs or other people to determine if there is a gas mask in a certain room). When I saw the cliffhanger to The Empty Child, and I had just seen shots of GMZs sitting up in their hospital beds, faces taking up entire shots, about to lay their fingers on The Doctor, Rose and Captain Jack, I ran from the room wailing with indescribable terror. For weeks my dreams were haunted. This is all no exaggeration. I would hate Steven Moffat for life if he didn’t write such epic episodes; write the greatest Doctor Who episode EVER (Blink – the unforgettable episode introducing Weeping Angels and the most impossible instruction you can ever give that can actually mean life or death: DON’T BLINK. DON’T EVEN BLINK; BLINK & YOU’RE DEAD. DON’T TURN YOUR BACK, DON’T LOOK AWAY, AND DON’T BLINK.); make Fez’s, Stetsons and fish fingers in custards cool; and create Sherlock.

Everyone has a Doctor Who monster as one of their weaknesses. For some it’s Autons (living shop dummies). For some it’s Weeping Angels. For some it’s Vashta Nerada (“Hey, who turned out the lights?”). And for some, it’s the old Daleks and Cybermen. But for me, it’s the GMZ. No other monster has invaded my dreams and remained in power for seven years (the Weeping Angels only invaded my dreams for one night). I don’t constantly have visions of The Empty Child opening the door and marching into my room any more, but he still invades my nightmares and makes me wake up with his close up image emblazoned like a scorchmark behind my eyes. The Empty Child and The Doctor Dances, to this day, I have only seen once (the second episode I saw after gathering up my courage out of earshot for quarter of an hour, and it still didn’t help). I also have not braved seeing the episodes in The Shooting Scripts.

Gas Mask-wearing Zombies are petrifying. Period.

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