Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

When I was living in Canada I often caught myself looking up the planes as they passed overhead. I would imagine where they were going or where they were coming from and dream about travelling to that place. When I was in Edmonton we lived very near an airport and so this tradition could occur several times a day depending on my schedule. The other night my husband and I were travelling home from Bicester (which deserves a blog all of it's own. Ladies the Best shopping area there is) I noticed in the dark night skies the familiar lights of a plane flying over us and speculated that it was likely heading into the Bristol airport which was the closest to where we were. As I watched it until it left my line of sight I realized that I had not thought about where it might of been nor had I got the somewhat wistful ache of wishing I had been there. More surprising still was the fact that I hadn't done that even once since we landed in this country. Now that could simply be because any airport is nearly an hour drive away from us and so planes just don't fly over me as much, but maybe this hopeless wanderer has met her match. Perhaps I have gone an adventure big enough that, at least for the time being, I don't need another one. What I truly hope is that I was learned to love the sky I'm under, which I think would show a great deal of maturity.

On the other hand, maybe the medium of travel is in fact the only thing that has really changed. True I no longer look to the skies but if I am going to be totally honest every time I see one of the many trains they have here racing across the country side I mentally run through all the places I know that they can take me. It is not uncommon in those moments for me to think to myself 'I should run into Bath tomorrow' or 'If I leave right after I get the kids off to school I could spend the day in London' and 'I think it takes less time on the train to get to Cardiff than to drive'. So maybe I haven't learned total maturity yet, but at least these adventures are far more cost effective, that's something right?

Actually, probably not, because we all know that the cheapest mode of travel would likely be by car. Sadly I still have yet to drive here. I know that at this point I have simply built it up in my head to a deranged phobia but I find it terrifying to get behind the wheel and drive on the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road. Even more than driving on the foolishly narrow roads with strangely high speed limits is parking on those same roads. What you need to understand is that this county holds more population than Canada and could fit into that great country something like forty times. That is a lot of cars to park in not very much space. So I have not really matured, I still dream of the places I have yet to explore, or want to explore again, and I will probably not do said exploring in the cheapest way possible, but I don't wonder where those planes are headed.

Doctor Who?

I live with two, well three really, intense Doctor Who fans, I mean they are proper Whovians. Based off the title of any given episode they will very likely be able to give you a thorough run down of the entire hour in minute detail. My daughter is anxious to visit any venue where dressing like a companion or gender swap doctor would be totally appropriate. My son can't walk by any Doctor Who paraphernalia without stopping to check out the offering and every time one of their new magazines reaches stands he points out he hasn't got that one. Although my husband may be slightly more tame in his enthusiasm he also has favourite episodes and is often trying to put them on to help me see the true genius behind the show. As unconvinced as I have so far been I too am beginning to learn the lingo and know the actors who have played the Doctors and even most of the companions names. Despite not jumping on board this particular train I had no doubt that the perfect gift to give my son for his birthday was a trip to a museum focused solely on this British program.

His response to getting tickets to the 'Doctor Who Experience' was exactly what I had hoped for, and I am not convinced that my daughter and husband weren't equally excited. I admit that if someone hadn't mentioned to me long ago that such a place existed I am not sure I would have believed it. How could there be enough fans of this show to justify an entire museum dedicated to it?  

Once you enter the doors however you realize very quickly to subdue any derogatory comments you may have been inclined to express. Inside these walls he is a hero, he is beloved, he is an icon. Interestingly enough The Doctor also seems to appeal to the widest range of individuals you can imagine, from small children who are in terror of Daleks, to teenagers who come fully decked out in costume, to a much older crowd who may have been watching since it's original air date. Yes here, I was the outsider.

I can say that I couldn't help but be impressed by the immense detail that goes into creating all the sets and costumes, many of the actual props and clothing being stored in this Experience. If the presence of staff hadn't been so obvious I may have been tempted to pick them up for closer inspection or try on some of the fine garments that hung around the place.

With insights into how things were built and filmed, and characters in the show placed all around you it was hard not to get caught up a little in the mania that this program seems to instil in people.

If we are going to be totally honest I did not leave the museum a changed women, I did not rush home to watch Doctor Who. I have had moments of regret at taking them when I have to listen to the entire experience retold in a detail that would imply that I hadn't been there myself. I can say though that I learned to respect the show runners, I stand in new awe of the foresight that goes into constructing their sets and the craftsmanship that goes into every detail on the show. Is it cheesy, absolutely, but it has become beloved by millions through several generations so who am I to say anything. It was a cool place to see, I may even be willing to go again, enough said.