I wasn’t going to write today, until I saw a BBC news story. So sad.
A mother disappeared, and now her children are teenagers, but of course if she wanted to show up with no questions asked, it would be at Christmas, so they set her a place, and it tears their hearts.
The most likely answer, of course, is that she’s dead, but who wants to face that?
…
Meanwhile, the doctor I linked to at the bottom of my November 25 piece on Human Capital, well, he has a bad habit of disappearing without knowing how much time has passed. That young girl in the November link? He told her he would come right back… Tore her heart. But at least he returned, and he even came to her wedding.
So he knocks on the door of the home of her and her husband—after they had watched him die—and he doesn’t know how long he has been away.
Which sounds sad, but who asks questions at Christmas?
Here’s a very nice link:
Loved the Dr. Who scene.
Yes, it’s a good one. Amy has painted her door Tardis blue.
In Britain I always go to the Who Shop, 30 minutes out of Central London in the Upton Park (South Asia) district.
It was a Jack the Ripper Tour guide, wearing Doctor Who Tardis earrings, who told us about the store. Get this—our entire tour group were fans! (We had been talking before she arrived, and I told folks I had been on the Dr. Who tour)
The doctor’s telephone booth, the Tardis, is in my Oxford dictionary.