Left to my own devices

February 9th, 1985 was a Saturday. I know this because it was a special day in my life, and much of it has remained emblazoned upon my mind for decades. I also looked it up before writing this, so there's that. Why do I remember it so well? Why, I'm glad you asked. Let me tell you about it. As many friends and family know, Doctor Who has long been one of my favorite television shows. Specifically, its run from 1963 - 1989. The series was revived in 2005 and, while I've enjoyed parts of it, it just hasn't been the same as it was when I was a kid. The original show was serialized, with multi-part stories which always ended every episode (except the concluding one) on a cliffhanger. Classic Who was made on a shoestring budget, with tatty special effects, dodgy costumes, and sets that wobbled so much at times you wondered if they might fall down. And I loved it. The stories were engaging, and the circumstances of its production allowed one to use their imagination to fill...

When I was a kid, I once spent an afternoon reading a book under an umbrella, alongside a pond. It was a slim volume, An Unearthly Child , a novelization of the very first Doctor Who story. The author was Terrance Dicks. The surroundings were lush and green. The pond was still. It made for a pleasant afternoon. Mom and I had traveled to visit an old college friend of hers. I forget where we went exactly, or who the friend was. What sticks in the memory is that she lived in a house by a pond. As the two adults began to talk in earnest, catching-up on life and what not, I had no desire to listen to them talk. The book mom had recently purchased for me was calling my name. A huge fan of the Doctor Who  television program, I'd never seen the original first few episodes, and this book was the closest I had to experiencing it. Soon, I voiced my desire to exit the presence of the adults. Mom's friend was very nice. She suggested the pond area as a reading ground. It struc...