Even nostalgia's not the same anymore.
I'm sure you've already heard, but Elisabeth Sladen died yesterday at the age of 63. She's been Sarah Jane Smith since before I was born, and my dad always had VHS tapes of old Doctor Who serials lying around, including the ones with her. The way Tom Baker's Doctor would rumble "Sarah" at her always made me happy. And then she was in the new series, and I squeed like mad.
But this afternoon, around four o'clock, my dad called to ask if I'd heard. For him, it wasn't VHS tapes of an old show; he really grew up with her on TV, and he was really, genuinely sad.
(And then Sas shouted me a ticket to Paul and it was fantastic, and I came home and changed a lightbulb standing on a wobbly stool in the dark, and now I'm going to make pork belly stir-fry and it's going to be delicious. But still. A moment for one of the great iconic ladies of science fiction, please.)
But this afternoon, around four o'clock, my dad called to ask if I'd heard. For him, it wasn't VHS tapes of an old show; he really grew up with her on TV, and he was really, genuinely sad.
(And then Sas shouted me a ticket to Paul and it was fantastic, and I came home and changed a lightbulb standing on a wobbly stool in the dark, and now I'm going to make pork belly stir-fry and it's going to be delicious. But still. A moment for one of the great iconic ladies of science fiction, please.)