This is me, with no brushing or hairspray this morning. Fantastic!
Am I the only one noticing a certain resemblance to a certain Scottish-brogue-turned-not-a-martian? It’s perhaps telling that my fannish reference point has turned from Harry Potter’s coif in Goblet of Fire. To the doctor. Still a 221B girl, but in a hiatus this long, Moffat is Moffat.
Now I must go. It’s a Manhattan day: therapy, then E&E reading group, then (maybe) movies. We’ll see how my energy holds. But as for now: somewhere there’s danger; somewhere there’s injustice; somewhere else the tea’s getting cold. Somehow I know lines like this without looking them up. Having just seen two episodes of Nine and a season and a half of Ten. Because in fandom, apparently, Moffat is Moffat. Also, because Doctor Who really kind of rocks, in any regeneration.