2010, The New Year & Doctor Who

So, it seems that 2010 – the dawn of a new decade which may or may not be called the tens, teens, tweens or tweenies – is finally upon us. Huzzah! This was the first New Year’s Eve I’ve ever spent overseas, and the only one where it’s been cold. Toby and I put forward a few suggestions as to how we might celebrate, but in the end, a 24-hour virus/flu on his behalf saw us stay in by ourselves and have a pleasant, if very quiet, evening of geekery. I bought us a box of Indian food from Sainsbury’s, which actually wasn’t bad, and courtesy of our hosts – or, more specifically, their DVD collection – we watched Stigmata, which was very 90s, but not unenjoyable, paused to have a discussion about the apocryphal Gospel of St Thomas, and then watched The Lawnmower Man, which was sort of hilarious, but which made up for it by featuring a young, sometimes shirtless Pierce Brosnan wearing hot glasses and an a gold earring as the Rogue Scientist. Then we caught up with a bit of the classic Doctor Who we’ve been watching recently – Tom Baker in Pyramids of Mars – and went to sleep. Also, I may have done some writing.

Speaking of which: the first draft of the Ambush Novel is now complete. There’s one more scene I want to add in, a made-up word I want to change and a conversation to be fixed, but these are all little things, and otherwise, I’m extremely happy with the results. So if nothing else, I’ve managed to achieve my crazy goal of finishing it before we returned to Australia. Yay!

Finally, re my predictions for the second part of Doctor Who: The End of Time, I was right about some things, and wrong about others. I’m happy with that. It was, by and large, a good episode, although in all honesty, I’m keen to move on from the schmaltz of Russell T. Davies and see what Stephen Moffat can achieve – especially given that he’s been responsible for all my favourite episodes.

Rock on 2010!

Simple Pleasures

It’s the afternoon of New Year’s Day, 2009. I’m writing this on my laptop, which, appropriately enough, is resting on my lap, being as how I’m stretched out on the lounge. We came home by cab at 5am this morning and fell into bed; I slept for a bit, then fell out again around midday. I’ve made it as far as the dressing-gown stage, but no further. I consider this to be a satisfactory state of affairs. Despite having consumed an appropriately broad range of liquor last night, I’m delightfully unhungover – just lazy and cotton-mouthed enough to condone a day of indolence and carbohydrates. Love Shack is playing on iTunes. I’ve already Facebooked my photos from last night, despite the wavery nature of today’s internet connection; since then, I’ve sat through the first half-hour of Tropic Thunder (crap), read Alan Bennett’s The Uncommon Reader (ends well, but feels odd throughout) and watched all of Pineapple Express (weirdly, stupidly wrong, with funny bits). Also, I fed the cats ham.

The new year hasn’t sunk in yet. There’s always a strange, anticlimactic irony to January 1st, given that most people trying to start health and fitness regimes in the fledgling annum wake up feeling, despite their best intentions, seedier than an overzealous pomegranate. Me? I’m just happy to be here, liver intact. And in that spirit, here are my plans for the rest of the evening: to do my jigsaw, watch some cartoons, work on my novel and maybe play Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. Simple pleasures, now.

But tomorrow – who knows?