The truth is, I don’t actually watch a lot of TV. I can’t remember a time that I did, at least not after college started. The list of shows that pull my full attention can be counted on one hand with fingers to spare.
But one of those shows is Doctor Who.
Paul Cornell, who was responsible for the fantastic “Human Nature” / “Family Of Blood” episodes of Doctor Who, has penned a lovely little Who-related short story for the Holidays, titled “The Last Doctor”:
The old man stood on the hill and looked up at the night sky. He’d been right to climb up here, despite how it had hurt his knees and back.
There were no stars.
There were no clouds. He knew where stars should remain. He knew by his learning and in his bones. Those stars were gone. They had been the last.
He’d known this was likely. But he was still frightened.
Reading it reminded me of the lovely treasure trove of historical Doctor Who documents the BBC released late last year, including this section from the 1963 background notes:
>A frail old man lost in space and time. They give him this name because they don’t know who he is. He seems not to remember where he has come from; he is suspicious and capable of sudden malignance; he seems to have some undefined enemy; he is searching for something as well as fleeing from something. He has a “machine” which enables them to travel together through time, through space, and through matter.
Five minutes ago, I’m resting on the couch, nursing a pinched nerve in my neck; I have my laptop open for scanning Twitter, political blogs, and Metafilter to catch impressions on the debate.
I hear a female voice coming from the TV – Countdown with Keith Olbermann was on but I had zoned out. My brain identified it quickly as Andrea Mitchell, and I carried on.
And then I stopped to consider: *I can identify political commentators without visuals*.
Somebody, please, save me.