We didn’t indulge in the traditional Christmas past-time this year.
The Doctor Who Christmas Special remains unwatched. I don’t know how I feel about that. Uncomfortable, for sure. Because I’ve never done this before. I’ve never made it this far past Christmas without watching it. And yet here I am, twenty four hours later having not seen Peter Capaldi disappear in a blaze of light and, gloriously, Jodie Whitaker spring forth.
We’re a bit lax on the Doctor Who front. There are still unwatched episodes from the last series. I don’t like to see Doctors I like bow out. Which is most of them, to be fair. So if there’s a way to delay it, I seem to do that nowadays. I don’t like companions bowing out either – Jenna Coleman sat on the Sky Planner for ages before we finally watched that crow steal her life force. Even though she’s not technically dead and just living in the final moment between life and death with that one off of Game Of Thrones (no idea who, don’t watch it, nor do I intend to).
So Doctor Who sits unwatched for that reason too. It’s the end of Bill, it’s the end of the Doctor. And the end of Missy.
The end of everything, really. And the start of something hopefully awesome, which will be great. But I can’t bring myself to watch it just yet. Even though I really want to.
I have kept a couple of the Doctor Who books on my Kindle, unread, so that I can fill my Capaldi gap with them once i eventually watch him fade away into Jodie-ness.
I guess, once all the Christmas faff dies down, relatives have been placated and families visited enough times to buy some peace for the first few months of the year I’ll sit down and get them all watched and fall in love all over again with a brand new Doctor.