So the years go on and on, but nothing’s lost or won, and what you learn is soon forgotten
They take the best years of your life; Try to tell you wrong from right
But you walk away with nothing
~ ~ ~
Listen —
Another blog post. No pressure. Well, low pressure, at any rate.
Let’s recap a little, shall we?
Spyfall 1 & 2: On Her Majestys Secret Fan Service
Orphan 55: Don’t Hurt the Earth
Nikola Tesla’s Night of Terror: Blindeth Thee with Science n shit
Fugitive of the Judoon: Whiz! Bang! Wow! Time Lords!! (With Jazz Hands)
Praxeus: Don’t Hurt the Earth 2: I Mean It!
Can You Hear Me?: Guardians in Love in the Land of Chalk Drawings
The Haunting of Villa Diodati: Dazedeth and Confusedeth
Ascension of the Cybermen: How to Make Acquaintances at the End of the World
The Timeless Children: There Can Be Only One, Again.
Series 12 concluded with…. well it came to an end.
Was it worth it?
Just hang on. Allow me to move this Philosophers Wax around a bit.
Here, at the end of the way all the things that were used to be, standing on the cusp of all the things that might one day possibly could be, we wait.
Some are gleeful. Shackles tossed high in the air, nary a rule in sight.
Still others are forlorn, lost in the snowy climbs of collective discontentment.
A hesitant but bloated middling of still others, uncertain of what a step to the right, or a step to the left, might bring about.
We wait. Revolutions and revolutions of time before us. Well, three hundred some-odd days maybe. Give or take.
Series 12 is still somewhat freshly crack-ed upon us, with its dazzling mediocrity and moments of mind-blowing wowzerness. On the whole, better than Series 11. Not because there was a plan, necessarily. I think. Honestly, I don’t really know. Yet.
At the start of S12, we were unconsciously comfortable with the Three Fam-igos and The Doctor. The Companions character development showered upon us with all the strength of a lightly fizzing carbonated beverage, and the weird claws could change colours, which is neat, in a early 2000s “I can change the colour of my font on my Geocities page” kind of neat.
Wow. I really just aged myself. Self-ageist.
For the most part, Series 12 almost got there, most of the time.
And that’s the bar. That’s where we are at now.
However, the promise of BIGGER THINGS was also sewn into some of the fabric of this series. Challenges to what we thought we knew. Some of it left us in stitches. Stitches in Time, if you like.
Some of it was lovely moments of Graham being lovely. Seriously. Bradley Walsh.
Is this a good thing? I don’t know, is it? Stop it, I’m always distracting myself.
If you find yourself wondering what the point of this particular blog entry is supposed to be about, either by itself, or in relation to this column, or indeed, in connection to WBW itself, then Imma let me finish, because this blog post is the best blog post of all time.
I recognize I’m all over the map here. I’m trying hard to find the thread. I am desperately hoping that I can salvage some kind of coherent line of thought from out of this collection of words and phrases. Something, anything that will make sense.
Because to just leave it here, just like this, with paragraphs and sentences put together to appear to have a trend, a direction, a plan of any sort, leading to some kind of payoff, would at least give some kind of sense of resolution, right?
Like, imagine if I just ended this particular blog post with some kind of note like “for the uninitiated, Who Back When wasn’t always a podcast about Doctor Who. It began as a dramatic exercise troupe, started by a small group of Year 10s at the Oxford Spires Academy in 1974, under the guidance of a young drama prof named George Ponken”.
Could you imagine?
