It's Monday as I write this, last week, your time, but today by my standards. So apologies that I haven't referred to the replies I assume some of you will, by now, have made because I, as I write, haven't read them yet. This is because for me in my time you, also in my time, haven't yet written them. You probably haven't even read the article that, for you as you read this, went out last week, yet.

I have a new favourite bit of Doctor Who to watch, which seems pertinent for all those of you confused by the somewhat truncated and probably grammatically inaccurate temporal mystery tour in endeavoured to take you on back there. It's a scene from the 50th anniversary special when a nuclear warhead is about to be detonated and, in a corner of the room, one character is quietly murmuring ‘Please, Doctor, please' in the hope that the Timelord will turn up and save the day. I was watching this today for maybe the 10th time since I got the DVD, a thing which I do to cheer myself up. As I mentioned last week, I'm working now. It's 25 hours a week which means it's quite good but I won't really be sure whether we're in the financial clear until various agencies decide how much money they will give us now. In the mean-time I work mainly evenings and 3 of my 5 days end at 10:30. Mercifully the shop where I work is literally yards from our flat, but it still means I don't get in until gone 10:31.

I'm still a bit enjoying the novelty of getting home to a dark, quiet, sleeping flat. And because I used to do stocktakes in my old job I still have that sense in my head that the working until 10:30 thing is now done for another year, that I've got through it. I know that soon the novelty will wear of and the reality will set in. Maybe this is all lurking at the back of my mind, which is part of the reason I write, because it's a way to get all this out. Stuff lurks in the mind that the mind wants to pretend isn't there, so you just jab away at a keyboard and find yourself telling this stuff to total strangers without knowing it, and then e-mailing it off because it's good copy, and the sort of stuff you want to write but don't have the courage to express in a planned way.

About 8 years ago, my wife and I lost a hamster, by which I mean that he died. I am always sad when one of our animals dies, but I don't usually express it in the way I quietly feel would be healthy. It was a day or so later, and we were watching something on TV. Could have been anything, I can't even remember what¹ but there was a (modestly) touching ending that brought a tear to my eye. Then more tears, floods of tears. As my wife tried to solicit what was wrong, all I could utter was ‘he's gone'. I don't know how, but the pin prick of emotion solicited by the back door (as it were) on the telly had proved (and has since) enough to let the real emotion out. This is a good thing, I find, crying, laughing, feeling these things need to be done, emotions are sometimes best checked, but never repressed.

So that's what happened again when I watched my 'Day of the Doctor' scene, and will probably happen when I go and watch it again in a minute. Then maybe I will be able to figure out what is on my mind. Retrospective thanks, by the way, for all the things I assume that by now (your time) you have posted in reply to my previous entry. I hope you enjoy next week.

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