Seems I’m done with the headaches, aftertastes and self pity. It’s about time for a new journey. It’ll begin with a single hand clap.
“Right. Let’s be off.” Sorry Womble, flying the TARDIS yourself will have to wait for another day. But as you did contribute ‘Viking’ to the mix, I’ll add ‘Christmas’.*
Box in flight, time and space flitting past us and a fresh pack of sweets. Well, two, but one is for Womble for looking after Hungover Homeless Helper. Everything’s in place.
“Womble, can you go and just…inspect outside? I’ll go find some thermals, I imagine we’ll need them.” Where’s the wardrobe button again? Materialisation, shielding, scanner, archives, custard dispenser…ah, here we are.
“I’ve just met Santa,” Womble calls over. He brings his head back indoors, fresh snow settling into his hair, looking…actually I think ‘concerned’ is the word.
I join him at the door and poke my head out.
“Viking Santa?” Head back in, approaching TARDIS console. “Viking Santa?! You stupid, pedantic, unreliable OW!” Don’t kick, HH, never kick.
Fine, we’re doing this, bruised toes and all. Hagar meet jolly old Saint Nick. At the very least, it should be a memorable Christmas. Top hat on. After you, Womble.
* It is highly unlikely that even time travellers/anomalies can escape the overpowering aura that is Christmas time.**
** Saying that, I’ve never kept a calendar in the TARDIS. I’d need one for everywhere, every when, ever. I get bored of the same picture after 30 days. Insanity wouldn’t cover it if it was the same cute cat calendar a billion times over.
*** Who, what, where, when and how ever you are, Merry Christmas from Womble and Homeless Helper