I call it Dreyfussing, after Richard. On the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead DVD, there's an hour long interview with him - and he speaks the whole time in his lazy American drawl. He mentions the Player, and as if to demonstrate - like flicking on a switch - suddenly he drops into character, accent, mannerisms and everything - for 30 seconds - and then it's gone. It's terrifying. To an extent, you do want to be Dreyfussed a little in actor encounters, because it's the character you admire. And yet - It'd put me off meeting John Simm or Michael Jayston, just in case they did Dreyfuss, because I'd jump out of my skin. And in the case of the latter, possibly pass out.

In any case, he told me I was finely dressed and very stylish, and when he asked whether I'd made it myself, he responded with a booming "good old mum!". I thanked him - which is what I mean by acting, because I don't for a moment think he was sitting there thinking I was an idiot and lying through his teeth: the compliment was genuine. But I do know he has always hated that costume, which is what I mean by Dreyfussing - because that was the Doctor's response more than his. Do I mind? Hell, if that's how he copes with 100 rabid people who've paid over £30 to stand in a room with him, and have him scrawl on their posessions with Sharpie, then that's fine by me. Were I an actor, I would see it as my duty to go to conventions. But I wouldn't enjoy it, so I always try extra hard to be polite and gracious, because in that situation I see them as within their rights to be royally tetchy. Am I making sense? Which is why, I think, I felt so small after the previous one. I feel much better now.

Meeting fellow fans

In the queue we got chatting with a woman in a nice Tom Baker scarf. Before the convention, we'd all had a talk about actor ettiquette, and I said my theory was always have something to say between "would you sign this?" and "thank you". Which is hard again, because you don't want to be ohmigodIloveyouhavemybabies, nor do you want to put them in a spot by asking something ridiculously geektastic, nor ask something ruthlessly generic. And then this morning, I said it was probably fine, because Friend 3 and I were wearing conversation pieces. This applied to our fellow guests as much as the stars, and by the end of the day I'd had a chat with everyone else in costume. She was the first and, in that same manner I'd observed on the Strand, a little nuts. In that way that people are just a little slow, glazed, not quite taking it in or getting the point. I can't define it, and I feel judgemental even saying that - but you know what I mean? Normally, you don't encounter many in ordinary life. They clump at conventions. Maybe I am one. She showed me the cutest Colin Baker doll in the world - she'd made one for him, and a larger one she wanted him to sign. Then we tried to get rid of her, nicely.

Thou shalt not give into temptation...

All of this took place in the merchandise room. I had taken out cash intending to spend it, and in the end I was disappointed by how small the selection was. There were five desks, and only two of them containing the type of thing I felt a convention should be selling: one-off art prints. Everything else you could easily get off the web, and there was no where I felt I was viewing anything exciting or original. Caelia was very tempted by the James Masters/John Barrowman signed photo, but I gave my opinion, which was it's not the same if you don't get it signed in person. And it's not. Plus, after yesterday, I felt I had a duty to prevent her from spending.

...oh go on then

The best desk was the Big Finish one, which was being manned by members of that terrific organisation. They're the people who make the audio-plays, and when I said in the Pirate Bay post that I'd never aquired illegally anything I would have paid for, that's not strictly true when it comes to this particular comapany. The problem is, Big Finish plays are around £15 because they represent a niche in a niche interest. Which sounds mean of me, but that's a lot if you look at how many of them there are. So I may have listened to one or two which I didn't strictly pay for; others I heard on the radio or found in charity shops. I'm double damned: they charge a lot because they have few listners, so any listener not being charged is contributing to the problem. And because it's niche, they're never reduced.

Oh yes, I've always felt like scum on this count, so I was overjoyed to see they had deals on the desk. The people there were all involved with the company - one I recognised, the others I worked out from their conversation. They pounced on me with sales patter, and when they heard I'd never actually heard a Colin Baker audio play ("I'm a mind reader", he says, "I can tell you're a Colin Baker fan!", and I responded with the appropriate awe), were quick to offer recommendations. This was sweet of them, double sweet because the two they plucked out were two I was actually really keen to hear - triple sweet because they offered them at two for £15, instead of their normal two for £20 offer. I couldn't turn that down: I'm now the happy owner of Jubilee (the one Dalek was based on) and Doctor Who and the Pirates (a musical!). And I've promised myself to stay on the straight and narrow from now on, because I've always known it was deeply morally wrong, and I dearly hope I do.

Big Finish also produce the Short Trips books, a series of short stories loosely arranged around a central theme, featuring an array of different authors, styles and Doctors. They are far and away my favourite line of spin-off media, and they've just been cancelled. Like the audio plays, they are the niche of niche, never reduced - I've greedily devoured all the ones in libraries, because again I'm not in a place where I can justify buying all 30 £15 hardbacks.

It's a curious tragedy that, with the cancellation, they're selling off their stock at £7.50 each, meaning for the first time I'm actually willing to buy them. The three of us all bought one, and then I later came back for a second. I'm going to miss them so much, once they're gone, at which point they'll be as pesky to find as any other Doctor Who book. I did toy with buying one I'd already read and loved, but ultimately went for new ones. I've a funny plan to talk Camden libraries into selling me theirs.

It's the Master!

On the way out, we got distracted by the second small merch room- the convention was in a school, and this room was filled with heads. Sontarans, Sea Devils, Autons, all in lovely life size. I said "don't overreact" to Palatina just as we entered to look at the stuff for sale, because I'd noticed the other thing in there - someone with a fantastic costume of the 1980s Master.

Last time, the most fun I had was not meeting the stars, but chatting to the queue, and today was no different: this guy was great. He was apparently a professional Doctor Who impersonator, available for parties and the like. That room was also a chance for me to pounce on Thete, unmissable in his Colin Baker costume, who I'd also met on the Strand and got a proper blogname because he'd said he would be at Invasion too. He remembered my umbrella, and we chatted for a bit. When I recounted this to Calypso last time, she asked if I had a crush, and I truthfully answered emphatic no. But he was dressed up as a character whom I adore, so the matter is somewhat complicated.

"Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor," sneered the Master as snuck up and threatened Thete with a fantastic replica laser gun, "but to kill you..." I've been trying to make Palatina a Tissue Compression Eliminator, so I asked if he had one of those too - he promised to find it for later. We all had a short conversation about how that item resembles an everyone-knows-what, then all returned to the merch room where Thete and I posed for several pictures together for the many people who asked. We should have charged.

I also met a woman in a wheelchair with a fantastic lifesize Dalek-creature, which we complimented, and who'd made one for Rob Shearman (writer of Jubilee and Dalek) last year. I may try replicating one.

We decided not to go to the coffee encounter with Mark Strickson. It was fan catnip, to an extent - free, personal, about eight people plus star having a chat. If I could have I would have, but we decided it was a little too - well, you know I get a little funny about the existance of actors. Would have been bizzare. I think, in retrospect, we regret it a little - maybe if his talk had been first and the coffee encounter afterwards?

So we continued walking around, and quoting Castrovalva because we kept getting lost. Castrovalva is a city, that turns out to be a fictional construct. They keep trying to escape, yet all routes lead back to the same courtyard. When the Doctor works it out he calls Shardovan the city librarian in and asks him to draw a map of the city, then mark on the location of his library. Shardovan makes three crosses on the map - "it's here, and then next to the Portreve's house - and also down...", and only at that moment does he notice something a little bizare about it. Great scene.


Like Castrovalva, the school was broadly square, so we kept walking around and coming to the same rooms in places we didn';t expect them. I'd overheard someone saying that there was Battles in Time cards somewhere, and I'd brought mine specially in hope of finding someone to trade with, or a stall to complete my set. Ultimately, this didn't turn out to be true, but we had fun looking - and it was when we were totally lost, we suddenly heard:

"Freeze, Doctor!" - we turned around - it was the Master again, threatening us with the Tissue Compression Eliminator! I quickly shot up my umbrella, sheltering me and Palatina - but unfortunately for Caelia, she was standing a little apart from us. She quickly came and hid too - and then we all complimented the fake-prop, and he showed us how he'd made it from a torch and ping pong ball. I've lots of ideas now. Then we asked for a photo with him and Palatina, and he did his best eyeball-glare while threatening her. Meeting him was a real highlight, and I kinda regret not buying one of his photos. It was him, impersonating the Master, but he'd signed it "evil wishes, the Master! xx", and I so wanted one for my wall. Ultimately, my funds ran out, but we'll come to that in a bit. I am sure we will meet again.

Suitably, at that moment, I confirmed that the person I'd dreaded meeting again mentioned above was here after all, and so we shot outside.

It's Bessie!

On the lawn was the Third Doctor's beautiful yellow vintage vehicle, with a "have a photo in Bessie" oppertunity. So we all sat in the car, and took it in turns to sit in the front and make "brum" noises. I have my doubts the promised prints will ever arrive, but having more faith in people is my current resolution. It was an awful lot of fun. The others also entered a raffle to win a ride in her. No luck, alas. We bumped into Thete again here, so we had a photo together in the car.


We went back to the merch store, as I'd forgotten to bring my Last of the Timelords DVD for Alexandra Moen to sign. There was a whole table of lovely glossy photos, and a deal if you bought four. Palatina wanted one of Turlough, as did I - that made three - so I also got a lovely Sixth Doctor one, which I will have signed if and when I meet Colin Baker again.

Meeting Mrs Saxon

There wasn't a queue when we got to Alexandra Moen's room. She played Mrs Saxon, and turned out to be the heroine of the day. I have sympathy for convention guests, but it's the extras I really pity. At least Colin Baker, say, is well used to the scary dedication of it all. Casual guests, from single appearances on the show - sometimes, I'm not sure they know what they're in for. Anyway, she was very polite - and asked us all whether we wanted a dedication or not, and where exactly we wanted the signature, which was very gracious of her.

There was still no queue at that point, so I explained how much we loved her two episodes, and indeed that they were the only reason we were there - which is true. Utopia-Last of the Timelords genuinely struck a chord with us, and the Master's return is the reason Friend 4 got her first Master-themed Classic series box set, and then it was all downhill. The security creature who was sitting with her agreed with me, and said a lot of people felt that way - and she seemed both suprised and genuinely pleased. For this, if nothing else, she was my favourite guest of the day. I'm always worried about out-nerding actors, because I don't want to put them on the spot, but I do regret now not interrogating her about Lucy Saxon - who is possibly the most fascinating and enegmatic character in those episodes.

On the way out, me and a fake-10 - complete with Journey's End Rose in tow - greeted one another. He said there was another 10 about, and I pointed out there was another 6. Then we went to the hall for Mark Strickson's talk. We caught the end of Anneke Wilis' - she was Polly in the 60s, and when we arrived, recommending getting a bathtub outdoors and filling it with a hose, and having a relaxing bath outside. I felt terribly conscious of being in a tiny minority of girls, and tiny minority under 20.

Mark Strickson on stage (with Lisa Bowerman, who I am ashamed to admit I paid less attention to)

Earlier, I mentioned Topolski was a man whose life you wanted. As the talk unfolded, so's Mark Strickson. He's been a composer for the National Youth Theatre, then an actor, then he took a Zoology degree (?!?!) and became the director for Steve Irwin's first film - and right now he's making nature documentaries. As he chattered away about the various nasty illnesses and extreme places he'd visited, I genuinely thought: here is a man who I hope I shall never play dice against.

Mark Strickson played shifty schoolboy and alien-exile Turlough in the 80s. He's my favourite companion: in his time, the character attempted murdering the Doctor, abandoned Tegan to die, and told plenty lies and falsehoods, but his worst crime could only have been scene stealing. Like all companions, Turlough never really had that much to do. Yet Strickson played every line to twitchy perfection, he never wasted a syllable, even in those episodes in which he only gets three lines. And he commented on this on stage, that it's hard to play a consistant part when you have only three or four scenes in a day - this is why actors prefer main roles to minor. This interested me, because it's precicely his genius for ploughing the full worth out of the tiniest role that makes me love the character so much.

He's a great teller of anecdotes - true, he's also a man with a lot of anecdotes to tell, but he came across marvellously. Complaining that being a stage actor means the pubs are shut when you come out of work. He recounted how actor-horses are real divas, and tend to play up to the cameras - complete with impressions - and then recalled that in The Awakening, the BBC had used local horses instead of actors, resulting in set-destruction when they followed one another. He talked about his role in hospital dramas, and how he talked his way into the Doctor Who part. Apparently, he decided he wanted to be an actor while doing the composing at the aformentioned Theatre - he noticed they did far less work and got far more attention. At another time, he was on stage in a one-man play which required him to spend most of the second half dying from syphillis or consumption or something - almost at the very final scene - when a man had a stroke in the front row. Once they'd sorted that out, the audience asked whether they would like to continue where it was left off - or start the play again from the interval...


Yes, he had some great stories - and a great manner of telling them too. He was back in England to do some Companion Chronicles - Big Finish plays sans the Doctor, focusing on the companions. Looks like I'll have to pick those up...he was explaining the oddity of still having to play Turlough despite the fact his voice had changed, trying to imitate his own self - apparently, he thinks his impression of Peter Davison's Doctor is now far better than his of Turlough. Which was interesting, because it hadn't changed that much to me. No, not that - it had dropped. But his manner of speaking remained the same, even "as himself" - the emphasis he put on words, the way he paused, all those stupid human things you don't notice yourself doing. And it was the same when Colin Baker came on later - he was still acting, but a lot of the things you'd associate with his character had evolved from himself.


Above I mentioned that my strategy for meeting actors is to find something to say, and unusually there were several things I wanted to ask Mark Strickson. I was genuinely curious about his character's relationship with Tegan, for example, which has always struck me as weirdly romantic - but I had a very keen image of the Galaxy Quest convention, with that peppy girl with the squeaky accent:

And no way did I intend to put him on the spot like that. Especially because he had claimed he never understood people who get actors and characters all mixed up, at which point I certainly squirmed. No, actors never seem to get it - I suppose rejecting that attitude is the only way to become an actor and stay sane. But I was curious. The other thing I wanted to know was how old Turlough was. To digress, it's a complicated matter. When he was exiled from Trion, he was a Junior Ensign in the army, and his brother was an infant. When the show catches up with them, Turlough appears to be 19 or 20. Yet when we meet brother Malkon, he is at least 15, if not also 19 or 20. Even if you say Trions can become Junior Ensigns aged 12, similar to in the Napoleonic Navy, that still makes Turlough 27 - which is surely far too old, considering how immaturely he behaves. Not counting the issue of how Trions percieve age, and whether Turlough is as young as he appears. Palatina's theory is the best, that Planet of Fire is set in Turlough's personal future, making the age difference irrelevant - but would the Doctor allow him to stay there?

Anyway, I didn't have to ask because he brought it up himself - he was 25 when he took the role, and played it as about that age also. Which confirms my reasoning above, and suggests his immaturity was the result of a pampered and privileged life on Trion or something.

Sorry, were you just out-nerded?

He agreed with an audience member that he didn;t have enough to do on the show, but personally I reject that. It's a common comment to make about the character, but Mawdryn Undead, Enlightenment and Planet of Fire were, start to finish, all about Turlough. No other Classic companion has had such treatment! He responded to "how would I play the Doctor?" first by suggesting he'd just do a Davison, and then arguing that his Doctor would go eeeevil. Which made me rather happy. Finally, the person I'd been avoiding all day asked if he thought Turlough would get on with other male companion Jamie. Odd question to ask, and he'd brought it up at the Strand too so it must have been on his brain.

Was really reasonably price. I'd expeted it to be painfully pricey, but actually it was doubtless the cheapest lunch in London. We bumped into Thete again, chatted about the show - oh, wonder! No one else seemed to be doing it. Everyone seemed to be talking about other conventions, but never actually the show itself. By this point I was starting to feel a little creeped out by him too - admittedly, he was there on his own and I was the only person he knew and could chat to. I'm really hoping he doesn't turn out to be a crazy, partly because I like having a friend in the fandom with views I agree with. We've swopped emails, and I like the idea of someone in London with whom I can go to cons/events if Caelia and Palatina aren't able to. Partly because he's going to be hard to avoid.

We ambled back to the merch room - Caelia bought a Doctor Who cook book, Palatina got the novelisation of King's Demons. I met my third Strand veteran - you might remember an American lady with an "I heart heart the Doctor" badge? Actually, the one who'd been spreading gossip about Nightmare Guest no. 2 She was selling postcards, so I reintroduced myself and I had a chat, and then had to somehow worm my way out of buying a postcard, for which I felt guilty. She's trying to become an artist, so I complimented her - but not enough to buy one. But if she can do it, then I certainly could. Hmmm...

I have this nightmare image that, if I remain a Doctor Who fan, and keep going to conventions, I'll be spending whole days regularly with the same core 200 people. Which means I can't afford to fall out with them.

Some more costumes showed up then, so we posed for more photos - Doctors Four and Two in fantastic outfits, again making me wish my Tom Baker crush was a little smaller, a Cyberman who Caelia found genuinely intimidating, and the guy who had been the Master earlier dressed up as a Sontaran. He was once more entirely in character, praising Caelia's ugliness.
I've never felt so, well, female. Somehow, it hadn't really occurred to me that I was dressed as the Doctor, who's a guy, and there was something potentially strange about that. It was only when Thete described us as "Colin and Coleen Baker", and later, as "Mr and Ms Doctor" that it struck me. And then again, seeing him, Four and Two - all of whom had perfect replica hairstyles to go with their replica costumes, and me standing their with my lion's mane. I'd frizzed it up the night before, to approximate Colin-curls, and I'd been having so much fun being Doctory and getting chased by the Master and all - it was funny to come up to that rock solid gender divide I keep pretending isn't there after all. There's a flipside, of course: I told Thete I was wearing mine in public, and he said he couldn't due to the number of football fans where he came from. And indeed, American friend later said something similar: she can wear her Who-scarf, because no one notices if you're a girl, wheras for guys it's immediately identified. All I knew was that for the duration of the morning, I had been the Doctor - and now I felt awfully like someone in a costume.

Meeting Mark Strickson

We then queued to meet Mark Strickson, who Caelia has instructed to tell you was "mega adorable". And indeed he was lovely, and stood to have a photo with her even though we hadn't paid and he wasn't strictly meant to. Emily is the name of his new great niece. I'm just happy my Planet of Fire has got another scrawl on it. I adore that video - not just the episode, but the actual thing itself. This does now mean there is one other signature I have to hunt down - I'm sure I'll manage when the time comes. Along with his name, he did a little doodle - Caelia later figured it was a little Turlough tie. Great guy.

By then it was time for the Colin Baker talk.

He came across as bold, camp, and genuinely nice as he boomed about the spaces in the audience or Gilbert and Sullivan - still acting, remember, but also still fun to listen to. His favourite shows right now are The Wire and Heroes. He asked the audience at large who the best character was, and someone replied with Peter. "What? No! Sylar...!" he enthused - later, someone pointed out that he seemed very fond of serial killers. And he repeated that oft spoken actors mantra that villains are better to play than heroes - his theory on why was that no one believes they are doing evil. All villains think they are the good guys. He was a real, real gentleman about Michael Grade - there was some uneasy laughter at the news the man had resigned - and he explained aspects of the story with pure English simplicity. In fact, if I had to say something about both he and Strickson, it was how English they were - their language, for example, was impeccable. Colin Baker actually apologised for saying "bloody" at one point.


In any case, he recounted JNT's call to him when he heard the news. He actually did the "good news? The series isn't cancelled! The bad news? You're going to be replaced." treatment, although apparently the two remained great friends. He recalled an American event - best of the BBC or something - by which point he knew he wouldn't be back, but none of the fans did. Michael Grade was there, avoiding him. Afterwards, a mutual friend invited them back to Michael Grade's nightclub (?!) where he met Mrs Grade, and she asked him about the show. Colin had to explain then "well...", at which point she dragged her husband over to practically scold him and he reacted politically, dodging the issue. He didn't appear bitter, which was a relief, because I'm bitter.

Someone did ask him a geek-out question about his character on Blake's 7, which he answered simply "he's a nutter!". The phrase "as bad as Paul Darrow" was used about now, with the appropriate amused murmer from a crowd who remembered Timelash. He also asked for a lift, and found someone in the audience going in his direction (?!)

The chief point of the talk was to discuss the new Big Finish audios - good old Big Finish - which are adapting the season he would have filmed, had he continued. This makes me quite excited because I think one of those "lost" stories was by Barbara Clegg. Enlightenment, along with being a favourite, was either one of the only or the only classic Doctor Who serial written by a woman. I've read a synopsis of her idea - can't remember it, but I liked it. The audience enthused about Sil's laugh. He also talked about the adaption of the Doctor Who stage plays onto audio, and discussed the changes made between him and Pertwee doing them. Apparently, not a line was changed - which confirms my theory that there really is no difference between Doctors. All except a fight scene, which the Third Doctor launched into with his trademark aikido - this was changed so he was gesturing madly with a sword while he talked, while accidentally blocking blows from an attacker behind him. I'd love to see that.

Aftermath

We decided not to go to his coffee encounter either. I went back for another Short Trip book. And then we retired. On the train home, it felt - you know when you've been to the beach, and you're tired but still excited and you're covered with sand and salt, and carrying unwieldy bags of buckets and blow-up whales? That was what it felt like. We did our post-match report. Peversely, I now felt more foolish in coat outside of convention than in. And headed home for tea and a Game.

I won two, easily. I decided to win. Dad and Alice have this Battlestar Galactica game, and it's fascinating to watch them play. In real life, if the enemy suddenly makes a brilliant move, your heroes will rise to the occasion and fight harder. This shouldn't happen in games of dice - you're as lucky when the stakes are high as low. It's not true. Dice luck exists. My dad, who's a weekly Wargamer and goes to gaming conventions, who's written and published several of his own
rulesets - who isn't prone to supersticion. Yet he'll tell you it's a fact, and I easily believe it. And when it's vital, suddenly Alice will start rolling high, and dad will roll higher. It's exciting to watch them duel.

Wheras I, I have appalling dice luck. It's sufficiently bad that I actually refuse to play them at the game - which might make you wonder how I came to design my Doctor Who game based
entirely on dice luck. I kinda gave up on D&D because it didn't matter how smart a plan I came up with, I'd screw it up when it came to rolling. The first day, I rolled up my character - as you may know, by throwing six six-sided dice. I got 6 ones.

So I've decided to banish the bane, and with a little concentration I've actually started rolling better. It's all a matter of really wanting to win, and my problem is a lack of ambition and hatred of competition. This all came to a head in game number 3, and I'm going to submit you to a tortuous blow-by-blow account because I find it that exciting.

To start with, we had a whole table of Timelords. I had the Tenth Doctor with the First Master, Friend 4 had the Eighth Doctor with the Second Romana, and Friend 3 had the Ninth Doctor with the Second Master and Jenny. That in itself was unusual.

Then I drew Love and Monsters - a mission which requires you to do nothing - Empty Child - where I landed on New York - and Terminus - which meant I could go direct from NY to the Lonely Space Station, thence to Gallifrey - in other words, win in three turns with good rolling.

I had good rolling, I finished all my missions, then used the First Master's Tissue Compression Eliminator to kill Romana, who was the only person on the board who could stop me.

To win the game, according to the rules, you have to complete three missions then get back to Gallifrey first. The challenge, if you're playing against experts, is that last stage - and me, Friend 3 and 4, well we're the three experts. At the point one or more people have completed their missions, it turns into a rule-off, as we take it in turns to exploit tiner and tiner loopholes, rule quirks, bylaws and exceptions. It is very, very exciting.


For example, I noticed moments after winning that all Friend 3 had to do to delay me getting to Gallifrey was - pay attention to this! - use her companion's power to regenerate from the Ninth Doctor into the Tenth, thus forcing me (the Tenth) to regenerate into the First, leaving me powerless. I'd then have to take a random turn for the regeneration, and as the Tenth Doctor, she could then use Survivor's Guilt gainst me to prevent me winning for a further three turns - and so on.

I didn't point this out. And hilarity ensued when Friend 4 revived Romana, and used her power on first me, then because she had a Stethescope card, on Friend 3. It was similarly funny when I Survivor's Guilted Friend 3, then regenerated only for her to use exactly the same power on me next turn. And so on.

Exacerbating this was the Master situation. I've got chance cards detailing every facet of the show, which includes the slushy stuff. Unfortunately, three of them came up - and in this order. First, Fr3 drew "your companion is in love with you" - referring to the Master and Ninth Doctor. Then I drew "Reminice wistfully about the charms of a random ex companion" - I rolled, and got the Master. I was 10 at that point, so bizzarely I was actually in mourning for the Master who'd
fallen in love with my previous self a few turns ago. So when I got the Torchwood card - "take an extra go if you would sleep with your current companion". Well, normally I say no when I get that for the Master. But under the current circumstances, I had to go for yes.

This was the case that finally, after 20 minutes of having finished all my missions and being thwarted constnatly, allowed me to win. We then argued a further five minutes about
whether an uber-bylaw would have resulted in a different outcome.We decided Friend 4 had definitely lost. And there were some funny moments too, with Fr4 throwing the Master's
remains out the airlock then feeling guilty, Fr3's Brigadier stepping on a mine and turning into a tree, and Fr4 accidentally getting Fr3's favourite companion killed. Which is funny in it's own way, how the Game imitates art. There was a long patch where anyone who played the Seventh Doctor, arguably the smartest incarnation (or, in any case, most inclined to be smart about things) would win, or anyone sharing a TARDIS with Madame de Pompadour would then roll appallingly for the rest of the game due to having her as a distraction - despite the fact her power makes good landing easier. Adric is another funny thing: he stands as the only proper companion of all time to be killed off, and it's amazing how he does get killed in the Game more than any other companion. And I should know, because I used to cheat -


- I always cheat at the Game. The only reason this is OK is because, with the exception of "accidentally" giving the unpleasant Spectrox Tocameia mission to other players, I always cheat to help others, not myself. The point of the Game is to have fun, after all, so there's no harm in me neglecting bad rules -


- to prevent it from happening. He's Caelia's favourite companion, so she always takes it badly. I remember a game when Adric got "killed" four times. The first three times I smudged the results, misread the rulebook and took advantage of the fact no one else knew how to play - before she landed on a square and I couldn't talk my way out of it. I think Palatina noticed the third time it happened, but said nothing. Nowadays, I can't get away with it, because the pair of them probably know the rules better than I.

The next day we trundled back to central London, Caelia having just managed to ferret away her new posessions in her suitcases. We played another game first: I wish I could remember the details of this game too, because it was a cracker. Though you're probably bored now. An example of how there's always stuff going on in Central London - our bus was slowed down on Oxford Street because it was following the Salvation Army marching band, and when we reached the Strand there were lots of people milling around as if there had just been a charity event. Like the London Marathon. This didn't make travelling too bad, though, and we watched a bit as we travelled back over Waterloo bridge.

And so the holiday ended as it had begun, with me comfort buying fruit from Cranberry.

And it's taken me almost as long to type it as it did to live it.