Doctor Who season finale NO SPOILERS
We got home yesterday (late) evening. I'd been away all weekend, so although watching the 4.12 Confidential and then 4.13 was the planned spectacular finish to the festivities, my Illness won out and I corpsed from 22-ish to 0600. And so I woke Himself at 0800 and said, 'Let's not spend the day in suspense, avoiding everyone and probably still getting exposed to leaks or details or opinions. Let's just draw the curtains and blinds and watch it before you go to work.'
And we did.
And after 45 years, I can move on now. I can move on now. Wow.
I'm not saying I won't watch further seasons and specials and whatnot, but I no longer feel the need to... because, for me, the ending of season 4 made it all complete. Doctor Who has been a small but very beloved part of my life for almost 45 years, since it started way back in '63, and I stuck with it - willy-nilly in the days before VCRs and such - through great and less great Doctors, through awesome-to-downright-shite Companions, through all the years of BBC cardboard scenery and Auntie's All-Purpose Sandpit, through Daleks that were less than fearsome because they couldn't climb stairs and Cybermen that were less than fearsome because they looked like they'd fall over at the least push, through dodgy writers and piss-awful producers, through the sub-canonical Peter Cushing cinema Doctor and the craptastic-despite-McGann's-superb-Doctor telefilm, even through Love and Monsters and Midnight, because I wanted to know where and when the Doctor was going next and what marvellous adventures he had yet to have.
And now I can move on if I so desire, because I'm satisfied at last.
Doctor Who has always been my only real fairy tale. Now it's over - over enough - for me, because - for me - it's ended with a Happily Ever After - as my own definition of happy ever after is "...and life goes on, with crises and triumphs and disappointments, and some lose and some win but all's right with the world."
It's been a long, long, fascinating banquet, and now I'm nicely full.
End transmission.
And we did.
And after 45 years, I can move on now. I can move on now. Wow.
I'm not saying I won't watch further seasons and specials and whatnot, but I no longer feel the need to... because, for me, the ending of season 4 made it all complete. Doctor Who has been a small but very beloved part of my life for almost 45 years, since it started way back in '63, and I stuck with it - willy-nilly in the days before VCRs and such - through great and less great Doctors, through awesome-to-downright-shite Companions, through all the years of BBC cardboard scenery and Auntie's All-Purpose Sandpit, through Daleks that were less than fearsome because they couldn't climb stairs and Cybermen that were less than fearsome because they looked like they'd fall over at the least push, through dodgy writers and piss-awful producers, through the sub-canonical Peter Cushing cinema Doctor and the craptastic-despite-McGann's-superb-Doctor telefilm, even through Love and Monsters and Midnight, because I wanted to know where and when the Doctor was going next and what marvellous adventures he had yet to have.
And now I can move on if I so desire, because I'm satisfied at last.
Doctor Who has always been my only real fairy tale. Now it's over - over enough - for me, because - for me - it's ended with a Happily Ever After - as my own definition of happy ever after is "...and life goes on, with crises and triumphs and disappointments, and some lose and some win but all's right with the world."
It's been a long, long, fascinating banquet, and now I'm nicely full.
End transmission.