My Obsessions

My brother recently described one of my characteristics as follows: "whenever there's something you find interesting, you try and find out everything about it, immediately". 

Or, in different words, I'm somewhat obsession-prone. This blog is also largely self-indulgent and a bit rambling. But that's okay, it's really a procrastination post anyway. 

I did it between 11 and 15 with CSI. Obsessed to the point of actually reading up on forensic investigation techniques, improvising forensics kits using make-up brushes and the finest flour I could find in the shops (didn't work very well) - and then using these kits to, with a friend, make a complete mess of a room in her house while doing a "forensic investigation". Obsessed to the point of writing tons of fanfics (which are not worth a read nowadays except for a handful of flashfics). Obsessed to the point of writing a screenplay for an episode and actually emailing it to one of the producers - who then promptly turned me down saying he could not possibly read it as it would cause copyright troubles. Obsessed to the point of then writing another screenplay and attempting to film it with a group of friends, which then of course fell apart because 14-year-olds cannot make a film together without there being leadership struggles and schedule clashes, except for when it's a school assignment. Obsessed to the point of actually proclaiming Chemistry my favourite subject, at least for some weeks. 

Also did it with Harry Potter, for a longer period and more intensely. Obsessed to the point of reading every of the first five books about 20 times (literally), being thus able to, for a short while, hear any sentence being quoted from the books and being able to place it not just within the book, but even within the general page range. Obsessed to the point of demanding my parents take me to the premiere-showings of the films for my birthday party - which worked well up to Goblet of Fire, but not so much after that. My amazing parents also taking me to the midnight launch of Order of the Phoenix - the novel, that is, so I traipsed around Rotterdam Central station at night in full wizarding get-up (and getting my hat blown onto the tracks, which resulted in me jumping after them since it was well before the steam engine was scheduled to arrive and I wanted my hat back. I was then promptly and rightfully scolded by one of the National Railways-employees). Wanting to get shoes just like the ones Hermione wears in the first film - and being really very sad that I couldn't find anything like it. Having a deck of Harry Potter playing cards, which I carried with my to school, daily. Being inconsolable when I lost that deck. Attempting to sew robes whenever I could get my hands on a decent sized bit of cloth. Carving branches (and narrowly missing my fingers) to make wands. Going to midnight premieres in full get-up, even at age 20. Learning runes (which then came in handy to exchange notes with my friend in Maths class because our teacher, brilliant as I suppose he was (though he did not like teaching us non-mathematical people) naturally couldn't read runes) because Hermione studied Ancient Runes. Also reading up on Numerology (another Hermione subject). Attempting to read Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces because one of the non-authorised "encyclopaedias" said the story followed the monomyth and I was desperate to see whether it was true (of course I didn't manage to fully read Campbell until I was 21). 

And I recognise it's happening again now. Watching Doctor Who. First I watched the new series, because heck, that's four series of David Tennant and there's nothing wrong with four - no, three series and a year of specials - of David Tennant. Matt Smith and Christopher Eccleston were nice bonuses at that point. Then getting started on the old series because My word I addooooorrred the new series and I had to see more - at that moment, series 7.2 was just being broadcast on BBC, so I got to - well, I've already written about the Matt Smith episodes I watched this year on telly. 

So I liked the First Doctor and his companions (specifically Ian). Frankly adored the Second Doctor (and he and Jamie had such remarkable chemistry!), he's my favourite I should think. Found out Patrick Troughton also had a guest role on Inspector Morse once, which was two-for-one really cos it means I got to go back and re-watch a Morse episode. 

Rapidly watched Three and Four (yes, all of it) - upon stumbling upon bags of jelly babies in Morrisons, I promptly bought some and spent the next few days mumbling "would you like a jelly baby?" whenever eating one. Watched the Fifth Doctor, found him - well, not boring, but beige. 

Of course, me being me, I read up on the actors on Wikipedia (yes, I know, shame on me - all my past teachers are welcome to shame me for using Wikipedia) and found out that of course Peter Davison also was Tristan Farnon in All Creatures Great and Small and I hadn't ever properly watched that but I do know the series as my Mum and stepdad used to be quite fond of it so I watched that too and came to the conclusion that the WE'RE GOING TO CRASH-LAND BUT I'M DAMN WELL PILOTING THIS CRAFT!-scene at the end of Caves of Androzani (see below) - which is my favourite scene of all the Fifth Doctor's because he seems quite obsessively mad with crash-piloting that craft - is very Tristan-y and then I suggested to a friend that all of the Fifth Doctor should've been Tristan-y but I suppose a smoking, drinking and womanizing Doctor wasn't ever much of a good plan (Tristan Farnon may actually be well on his way to become one of my favourite television characters). 

Also feeling bland about the Sixth Doctor, liking the Seventh, agreeing that the Eighth is very underrated - and now I'm done, which is leaving something of a gap. 

So what *have* I been up to lately, obsession-wise?

• Getting tickets for the 50th Anniversary event in ExCel London, which entailed me getting up really early to sit in front of my computer for about five hours, refreshing the page over and over until I managed to be so damned lucky as to snatch up some normal tickets for the Saturday - judging by the anecdotes on some of the fora, doing so in the General Sale was actually practically impossible as they sold out in about four minutes and most tickets had already been snatched up in the pre-sale to which I unfortunately had no access. That Saturday, of course, the 23rd, is the day of the Anniversary itself and the only day for which so far Four instead of three Doctor-actors have been scheduled - Matt Smith, Sylvester McCoy, Colin Baker and the marvellous Tom Baker. 
• Designing an outfit for said event. I'm not yet revealing what it's supposed to end up looking like, but I will give the hint that it's going to involve me getting my Mum to teach me to knit.
• Doodling Daleks in my notebook (also a T-Rex, with the Dalek saying "*YOU'RE* complaining?" which I would've posted on here if my T-Rex didn't look like a frightened lizard). 
• Reading up on time travel (again). 
• Getting very worked up over the BBC not releasing their 50th Anniversary Trailer to the general public BECAUSE THERE'S A GAP IN MY EXPERIENCING THE DAY WHERE THERE USED TO BE SOME DOCTOR WHO THING I HADN'T YET SEEN TO WATCH AND NOW THE BBC RELEASED THIS TRAILER TO THE COMICCON PEOPLE AND SO THERE IS SOMETHING NEW AND I CAN'T WATCH IT AND IT'S REALLY VERY FRUSTRATING - I suppose it may be somewhat similar to what addicts go through when they're going through withdrawal and their indulgence of choice is *JUST* outside of their reach. 
• Watching All Creatures to deal with said gap (and some dissertation panic - nothing like All Creatures to take away dissertation panic) and it would seem now that if I watched any Fifth Doctor stuff now I'd perhaps expect him to stick his arm up a space-cow's rear*. Also, I've this annoying switch-thing with Harry Potter, in the sense that if I'd watch any Harry Potter now I'd expect the Minister for Magic to have the abuse of magical creatures as an interest, which of course he doesn't as he's quite willing to have Buckbeak slaughtered, whilst when watching All Creatures I'm sometimes almost expecting Siegfried to start about Ministerial stuff - which of course he won't as that's all bureaucracy anyways and Siegfried and paperwork are not very good friends.
• Being sorely tempted to buy some Doctor Who novels but I mustn't, I really mustn't because that would mean lugging about even more books at the end of the summer. 
• Being tempted by a friend to stick a Dalek reference in my dissertation, which so far I have not managed...

...

Oh, obsessions. I suppose that's one reason why I'd like to be an academic. After all, plenty of opportunity to get obsessed with lots of interesting things.

Now then. The Caves of Androzani-clip. Because it's quite fantastic, and despite me thinking the Fifth Doctor is a bit beige (maybe it's the coat? Love the trousers though), Caves of Androzani is really among the more memorable episodes (well, episode-arcs) and frankly perhaps one of my favourites (together with - oh actually, another Fifth Doctor episode, Arc of Infinity, but that's because it's set in Amsterdam I suppose. And City of Death (Fourth), Tomb of the Cybermen (Second), School Reunion (Tenth), The Empty Child (Ninth), The War Games (Second)... oeh! Pyramids of Mars, of course, because of the Egyptian stuff (Fourth). But not Blink (Tenth). Love the Weeping Angels, just don't quite like the episode. Actually - I'll stop now. Just watch this clip for a bit, okay?). 

*May I assume - please - that the Doctor is also a qualified vet? Pretty please? Seeing as he's supposedly got degrees in everything - quite impressive actually for someone who didn't pass his Time Lord Academy exams until the second time and then still only scraped a 51%. 

On the Wrong Side

So, due to Mary Gee closing over the summer, I've recently had to move all my stuff over the massive distance...

of 1 mile.

The story of how I finally got to have summer accommodation is relatively long and basically consists of me worrying far too much about things that end up being fine anyway, so I'll skip that.

My main problem wasn't distance. It was time.

I had to check out of Mary Gee at 10am and wouldn't, according to the booking confirmation, be able to check in at Nixon Court until 2pm.

If I'd had a bit of overlap I could've, I dunno, have a taxi move me, or take a bus. Or walk, though, as you'll realise if you know me well enough, I brought way too many books (no such thing as too many books) over last year so walking would've killed me. But still.

So, I had two options:
1) Find someone with a car.
2) Book a car.

But cars need to be booked at least some while in advance, and I'd already lost the cheapest option (which was 48 hours in advance), and yet I hadn't found someone who could help me.

So I booked a car.

I think I gave my Dad something of a heart attack when I told him I'd be driving here. You see, my father's been driving for, oh, 43 years (45 if you count that he also had a moped between the ages of 16 and 18). He obtained every driving licence possible when doing his "service duty" (conscription) - this includes bus and lorry with trailers - except for motorcycle and tractor. But then he learned to ride a motorcycle when he was having his mid-life crisis and he drove tractors back when I was a child and we were minding my parents' friends' sheep, so basically he's qualified to drive everything. And he's driven the weirdest stuff in the weirdest places.

But never an English car on English roads.

So, basically, he is just too set in his driving-on-the-right-side ways to have confidence that he could drive safely on the left. And he's got all this experience, too.

I, on the other hand, did not obtain my driving licence until I was 19 and I've hardly driven since. It's not that I *can't* drive - when I get into a car, my hands and feet automatically do what they have to do. It's just that I haven't done it very often.

I wasn't scared, I was slightly nervous but excited.

Perhaps that was also one of the reasons I didn't look too hard for someone to help me out - I sort of really wanted to drive, and then drive on the other side!

So I ended up picking up this lovely burnt orange Opel Corsa (yes, I am aware that technically they're called 'Vauxhall' here, but I've been saying Opel Corsa all my life, it loses its proper rhythm when I say Vauxhall), and got in.

Couldn't get it started.

Well, that's brilliant. I felt like a right idiot.

They started it for me, and I drove off.

And you know what, it wasn't difficult or weird at all.

The pedals were still in their proper spots, as were the wipers and the blinkers. The gear box was on my other side, but the gears were in the proper order too.

So all I really had to do was remember that the mass of the car was on my left rather than on my right and that I needed to change gear towards me instead of away, and with my left hand rather than my right.

And stick to the left!

Thankfully, it was a clear, sunny and calm Saturday morning, so I had no trouble whatsoever getting out of Leicester city centre. I anticipated trouble going up the hill, because I hadn't done that for such a long time and what if I had to stop going up the hill? But when I had to, my feet did all my work for me. Then the roundabout, but I just went with the flow of traffic and ended up where I had to be - though I was far more conscientious in my use of the blinkers than the rest was (maybe it's not obligatory here to use your blinkers when leaving the roundabout? Dunno...). I arrived at Mary Gee 20 minutes after picking up the car, and that was a bit sad - I'd just gotten used to it, and moreover, I enjoyed it much more than driving on the right side!

I got to drive again on Sunday, of course, to move, but 1.5 miles wasn't enough, so later that night I went out to drive a bit more, before handing the car in on Monday.

It actually made me sad to hand in the car. I'd loved driving around here.

The other motorists were absolutely courteous, patiently waiting when I manage to stall it (only once, though, with good reason - regardless of the situation Dutch drivers would've beeped though), keeping to the speed limit, giving just about everyone right of way (Dutch drivers just take whatever opportunity they can get)...

And I *LOVE* the lights - it's so brilliant to know it'll be green in a bit when it's red/yellow. Like, it's green, then yellow, then red, then red/yellow and then green again - wonderful! Plus, there are lights also a bit further on, so you don't have to twist around the wheel to be able to actually see the lights when you're first in the queue.

So, if I do get to stay in the UK (still fingers crossed!) for a relatively long time, that's one more thing that won't be troubling me, driving here.

I suppose my Dad will disagree - I had to promise to call him every time I came back from driving a bit. Tsk. He's just too used to driving on the wrong side ;).