I had a meeting this afternoon at BBC Television Centre in White City; we sat in the coffee shop downstairs for a chat, and these were poised about ten feet behind us. Amazing.
Best part of the most recent series finale, about which I still haven't really made up my mind: German daleks.
For some reason people seem to trust me with their kids, and so it is I have two pretty fabulous (aside from the tantrums and screaming and crying and throwing up) godchildren, courtesy of best friend from high school and best friend from university. I say godchildren, but perhaps they're more fairy godchildren, as neither have been actually baptised in the church; both friends wanted people to fill godparent-type roles for their kids though neither wanted an actual baptism (not so much with the churchgoing), so for lack of a better non-religious word, godmother it has become. Or "non-godmother", as I was asked to be for Margot.
Today was the kind of non-christening, hey this is our baby kind of party: a big picnic in Wimbledon Park - picnic rugs and sausage rolls and fairy cakes and homemade party hats and cricket and rounders and bottles of Strongbow (just to add that touch of class). My non-godmother request came with a clause to educate Junior about Joss Whedon when she's old enough to understand; I already expanded this brief to include some rock'n'roll basics, so pushed the boundaries a little further to include Doctor Who, a series her mum and I have both been loving recently. And so it was I spent Saturday afternoon making Dalek shaped cookies and decorating them with silver balls, in the name of godmotherly duty...
I am loving Donna Noble. I wasn’t really the biggest fan of her Christmas Special (2006), aside from the fact that part of it was set in Chiswick, so when they announced her as the new companion I was a little worried. But the character totally hit the ground running and just gets better and better. Catherine Tate is awesome.
And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that being a temp, from Chiswick, who’s living with family because of the lack of permanent job, I slightly over-identify with her, and totally get how much she wanted to find the Dr to get away from it all. Nothing at all…
After a day hanging out with the Binnie and bebe Margot, enjoying the brilliant turn up in the weather - sunshine! all day! temperatures over 20 degrees! - I hop on the train up to the South Bank for an evening of culture - King Lear at the Globe.
I studied King Lear for A Level and it's always been one of my favourite Shakespeare plays; the only stage version I've seen was a school trip to see it right before we read the book, and it was, by all accounts, a pretty crappy version.
The Globe itself is one hell of a place. I love that people took the time, patience and energy to rebuild this historical building. In fact I remember that my high school took part in a 'Sponsored Shakespeare' event (literally, readings of his plays for 24 hours straight, with people donating money for every hour or play that was got through) when Wanamaker and co. were raising funds.
I meet up with my friend in the coffee shop and hire cushions for £1 - well worth every penny. Musicians in 16th Century garb come out on stage and play on ancient instruments, before two of the actors come out and ask the audience to kindly not let any anachronisms such as phone rings or flash photography interrupt the play.
The performance itself is interesting; there's slightly less focus on the tragic aspects of the play, and the comedic side is turned up, but I enjoy it all and the individual performances are great. Though I did want to punch every member of the audience when there was a group "Awwww" when an insane Lear hugs Edgar in disguise as Mad Tom. IT'S NOT AN 'AWWW' MOMENT. Cretins.
Waiting for the bus back to Waterloo, a man starts chatting to me - a real local, South East London bloke - who tells me he was part of an activist group who opposed the building of the Globe, wanting instead for funding to go towards housing for local working class people in that area. I note that it's the first time I've ever gone to the Globe, but I'm sure it comes off as privileged whining. I shrug and sit away from him on the bus, my theatre buzz effectively snuffed by the guy. I guess I can understand his miffedness.
And now, a shameful secret I impart... There's a Dr Who episode in series 3 called the Shakespeare Code (wow, I've literally only just got that that's probably a play on the Da Vinci Code. I'm a dumbass) where the Dr and Martha encounter Shakespeare; the end scene occurs at the Globe, where they all fight off the bad guys for that episode. It's a brilliant scene, with a genuine laugh out loud Harry Potter reference. And as I sat in the theatre waiting for the play to begin, that was all I could think of. Not about how this was theatre as it used to be. Not about the historical importance of the place. Dr Who. Quel dommage.
Okayyyyyy. So. The finale. I have to admit, this last of the three-parter wasn’t actually doing too much for me – whilst The Master was psychotically brilliant as ever, I preferred 'Doomsday' with The Battle of Canary Wharf as far as finales go - until that line, that throwaway line uttered by Captain Jack a few minutes from the end, which knocked me off the sofa.
And the wedding? So I may have been a little late because of my childish reluctance to just wait and watch the Dr Who repeat on BBC3 on Sunday evening… and I may have spilled red wine all over the bride’s dress within about ten minutes of arriving… and – well, I don’t think there needs to be any more “ands”, we can just stop there. I should’ve just stayed home and hid from the rain. Oy. Weddings.
Thank you so much for your kind invitation to your wedding reception tomorrow night. Whilst I realise that I’ve already responded with a “count me in”, I’m afraid I’m now going to have to politely inform you that I will be unable to attend. There has been an unfortunate scheduling error. You see, the Dr Who season finale happens to be on at the same time as your party starts.
So I wish you lots of luck in starting your married life, and hope the party goes with a swing. I’ll be thinking of you as I sit on the edge of the sofa, watching The Master, the Doctor and Martha Jones battle it out. No hard feelings for this sudden cancellation, I hope. A person has to have priorities, you understand.
I just want to say, I was childishly psyched when the Christmas special of Dr Who took place, in parts, in Chiswick (a.k.a. home)
I also kind of loved the Torchwood series finale - up until the giant monster appeared, when it became a bit ludicrous. And even though a lot of the characters are reaaaaaally quite irritating, the very very end, with the Tardis noise... sob.
And while we're geeking out, did I ever mention that when I was in NY I found first editions of both the first Sandman book, Preludes and Nocturnes, and the first Love and Rockets books in one of my favourite little bookstores that's right near City Bakery, and whose name I can *never* remember (I think it's called Skyline books) and was overjoyed (and spent money I didn't really have on them)? Then back at Dan's, his old stack of Love & Rockets became my second favourite form of procrastination (after watching Full House reruns, of course...)
