|My failed audition for the Ninth Doctor. Costume actor's own|
OK, I admit it. There's been a bit of a gap between blogs: I've been ill, tired, hungover and generally not watching or listening to much Doctor Who.
I think I needed a break.
That & the pressing emergencies of real life. Work. Not work. Tax returns. Deadlines for articles I should have written two weeks ago or for ones coming up in ten days or so. Douglas Adams and I have a similar response to deadlines. In fact crapness with deadlines is the nearest I will ever come to being Douglas Adams so I've clung on to this trait as if it is somehow endearing when it is - in fact - annoying. Maybe once I've written a best selling novel and radio science-fiction comedy series people will be more forgiving of my ineptness. Or rudeness.
Perhaps they won't. But then they might be too scared to say anything to me directly.
Basically I've been stuck in a rut.
With 2013 being the 50th Anniversary of Doctor Who - and don't pretend you didn't know that* - I'm semi-determined to get through as much of the Whoniverse (dreadful word but I can't think of a better one for now. Give me several hours and a bottle of vodka and there's a possibility that I might. Or I'll come up with something worse.) as I can.
That means finishing off the 8th Doctor Big Finish reviews, the 10th and 11th Doctors, Sarah Jane Adventures, Big Finish (5th, 6th, 7th etc) and Torchwood**. I may even try and do the Virgin New Adventures etc etc but I fear that may be a step too far for a single year. When something that is a hobby becomes a duty it tends to lose something. The fun bit probably. And if Doctor Who is supposed to be anything, fun is the least it should be.
Whether anyone cares about this objective or not (and I'm not sure even I do) is a moot point.
What has started to dawn on me is that I like the Big Finish Doctor Who a little more than I do the New RTD-Moff Doctor Who. This is I suspect purely because I am Big Finish's target market - ish - not New Who's. Which is as it should be really. Or should it. I know that a little, cold-hearted and bitter part of me resents this New Doctor Who with its proper budgets and implications of superiority even though that's what I wanted throughout the 80s and 90s. I feel like someone who followed a band from their beginnings, trekking around tiny gigs in obscure pubs who wakes up to find that he's now expected to fork out £65 to watch the same band at the O2 whilst advertising executives rip off their songs for advertisements. You know you're supposed to be happy about this but you feel that the best time has slipped away.
Feeling nostalgic for eighth generation VHS copies of 'The Mind of Evil' is probably not the right attitude to have but sometimes I miss the difficulties of collecting Doctor Who stuff. The dusty second hand bookshops where you might stumble across a yellowing copy of a Malcolm Hulke Target novel, the hissing barely comprehensible soundtrack of a missing Hartnell on C90, the Australian links on VHS Pertwee and Baker. Now it is just a question of what you want to pay. Want 'Lungbarrow'. It's yours. If you want to pay £50. Or £75. Perhaps I'm just a little strange.
I've no idea where I'm going with all of this. Suffice it to say the blog will be returning in proper style shortly. In the meantime talk amongst yourselves.
*It seems to be The BBC's objective (or The Moff's) to make the entire country aware of this fact to the point at which I suspect a chunk of the population will learn to loath the programme and its over-exposure. Something I never thought I'd say.
**Yes, god forgive me. Even bloody Torchwood.