It's silly...

And really quite pathetic, I suppose.

I bought an ipod touch with my bonus. And very lovely it is, all touchy screen and apps (Piano and bubblewrap. Fun!) and put your videos on here. Bad thing is also all of the above, really. Especially the videos. I already had an little mp4 player, but the screen was tiny, as was the capacity. I can now watch Blackpool and TEoT pts 1 and 2 during my lunchtime. Which is the bad thing because today, I sat in the loos and cried as I watched the Ood sang the Doctor to his rest (I sniffle just thinking about that) It's been nearly a bloody month and I'm still weeping big weepy tears when it happens, like it's going to change for goodness sakes. I then watch Blackpool, thinking it will cheer me, but he starts singing 'Should I stay' with the big soulful brown eyes... He then goes on to say (for me) the killer line 'Can I hold your hand?' and again I'm off, this time cursing the fact that I cannot have a tall skinny scotsman like that who will take me onto a very cold and wet looking seaside pier, ask to hold my hand and then proceed to snog the face off me. Bastard.

I blame my hormones. I hate them. They make me want things I can't have.

I also blame the next bit of fic on hormones, because... well, there is no other excuse and saying 'it's my hormones' is always convenient. And with me, normally true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message


He had told her.

The phone had beeped a message and she'd just about jumped out of her skin when she'd read who it was from. He never usually contacted her. Certainly never contacted her with a video attached. Perhaps, she’d thought, he'd found something that for some strange reason he'd wanted her opinion on. She opened the message and was surprised when she saw him flicker onto the screen.

Then he'd told why he'd contacted her.

He'd said 'I owe you. I owe you so much, so much I can't begin to think about it... So much more than can be said and so... So. So, one day, Martha Jones, you'll see me. It'll be when you're not expecting me, but you'll see me. It might be at a distance, it might be just when you need me, but you won't have called for me, you won't be expecting me. Oh no.'

He'd smiled at her and if you hadn't had known, it would have looked like his normal dazzling smile. But she knew him. And it wasn't half as dazzling as it looked.

'Look out for me Martha Jones. Watch out for me. Because it will be the last time you'll see this face. One last time, look for this ...' He'd stopped and she'd automatically reached out her hand towards him, fingers grasping at air, trying to offer comfort to the image in front of her. He'd cleared his throat and tried to smile again, but it had rippled and pulled at his mouth and it hadn't quite happened. 'One last time. I'll look for you... At you. For one last time.'

He'd then stared out at her from the phone, large, wide eyes staring into her, almost like he could see her. She'd looked back at his face then jumped when, after what seemed an age, he'd said 'Don't forget me, Martha Jones. Please.'

And the screen had gone black.


Now - Martha gazed up at the Doctor, standing, looking down on her and Mickey. And she knew he was looking at her, he was looking at her for the last time. She held his gaze as long as she could, but then Mickey called out to him and he turned and slowly walked along the gantry out of her sight. She then lent against Mickey as they heard the TARDIS wheeze and flicker away and he held her tight, kissing her forehead, shh'ing and making comforting noises to her. Martha turned away from where the Doctor had been standing and buried her face in Mickey's chest. She knew she'd never see that face again.

'Bye,' she whispered. 'Won't forget, Doctor. Ever.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Don't you love my blog updates? I know I do. Not.

'I don't want to go'

Oh, don't start me again...

So. 2010 came and Ten went, making both the ten year old DW fan inside me and the woman who thinks 'oh yes please' whenever she sees his brown-suited frame come into view stamp their feet and cry bitter tears in horror and sadness.

When did I so involved in a TV programme? Possibly from when I was a baby. My dear sister brought me up on DW and Star Trek. I never stood a chance, I was going to be a geek. I drifted somewhat from the good Doctor in my teenage years, but still had an eye on who was Who, so to speak. (with apologies to Mr Tennant. He's not called Who, I know that...) So, when it was announced DW was returning, the older me thought 'Oooh, nice. Let see what they do'

Watched Mr Ecclescake and although I really did enjoy it, I decided he wasn't The Doctor to me. Something just didn't gel. Like I said, it was a great series and I did like it, but... I couldn't get on with the characters. Rose left me cold and non-plussed whenever I saw her and The Doctor was just some bloke in a leather jacket. Not bad, great stories but just... meh. Then saw the short CiN special with the new bloke and thought 'now he looks more like it' Tom Baker was always the Doctor to me, and this new chap seemed to be in the same mould. Slightly mad, unpredicable and a bit wild. I watched his first episode on Christmas day that year and that was it. The Doctor was back for me. I actually said to someone I was watching it with 'Now THAT'S the Doctor'.

Mr Tennant did not let me down. He became the Doctor and I adored him all over again. My Saturday nights became those of my childhood, sat with dinner on a tray in front of the telly, knowing the Doctor would always do the right thing. I saw children loving the progamme again and that made me so very happy - every child should have a Doctor to look up to - and again, Mr Tennant did not disappoint. Children adored him, and he held his side up by being good natured, charming and hardworking. He took time with them, as I witnessed at Hamlet and also from stories from people whose children have met him. I went to the DW proms and saw the look of wonder on the childrens faces when they saw him on the screen. He was The Doctor to them and it was magical.

But as we know, all good things and all that. It's the nature of the show, the lead actor goes and you get a new Doctor, all sparkly and new clothes and different outlook. I took these badly as a child and now I'm an alledged grown up, I thought all would be different. Mr Tennant is so much more than this show, he's such a very clever and gifted actor, that you couldn't expect him to stay beyond his time. And I was glad he went at the height of his powers, and somewhat glad that he would be getting away from some of Rusty's scripts (but that is another story ;) ) But.

But.

When it came time, I wasn't ready.

He was the perfect Ten. He worked his socks off for the show, he never hesitated to promote and push for what was right for it. All the love and care he had for the show was all there up on the screen for all to see. You could tell he adored the show, he loved his job and took the responsibilites that came with it very seriously. You could not have wanted anyone better and when it came to his final hurrah, despite the rather overlong and strange script *shakes head at Rusty* he put his all in there. The scenes with Sir Bernard Cribbins (I know, but he bloody should be) were beautiful and heartbreaking and tragic. What wonderful work from both of them. I wept at those scenes, huge unexpected tears.... And then it was just the Doctor, in his TARDIS, looking around and so wanting to go on and stay being this wonderful, dazzling man who just loved to run and run and just BE. It was all there on his face and the final words ' I don't want to go' said it all. We didn't want you to go, either.

This has turned into some rambling vodka induced post, but I can promise you, I've not had a drop. There is so much you could say, but it's hard to say it without sinking into 'Oh, when he said this' or 'Oh, did you see when he did that?' Lets see if I can.

David Tennant - Thank you for your hard work, enthusiasum and sheer talent. You made DW in the last few years and you certainly kept your watch well. You are going to be a part of so many childrens fond memories of childhood. You will be their Doctor. You should be so very proud of yourself.

And shhh... promise not to say anything to Tom Baker when you see him, but you've become MY Doctor as well. And I'll miss you.