Doctor Who and the Daleks

Last night I more or less passed out on my bed while writing my diary. I woke up with the lights on and my book and pen on the pillow beside me. I was feeling slightly hungover and terrified of the thought of how I might have hideously embarrased myself last night.

I went out into Princes Street and renewed my bus pass for four weeks, and once again looked for the book for this month's book group (this month's book is Northern Light by Philip Pullman, published as The Golden Compass in the USA) but again I couldn't find it, as long as I manage to get a copy and read it by the 28th of this month.

I was feeling depressed and decided to treat myself a bit by getting some DVDs in the sales. I bought a set called Doctor Who: The Beginnings, which contains the first three Doctor Who stories from 1963 and 1964: An Unearthly Child, The Daleks and The Edge of Destruction. I also got a DVD of Doctor Who: Remembrance of the Daleks from 1988. That was the first Doctor Who story I ever saw when I was nine years old. Although I remember watching bits and pieces of the show before then. It's still one of my personal favourite stories. I can still remember my brother and I doing Dalek impressions, basically putting a bucket over the head and shuffling around, with the arms stretched out and screeching "ex-ter-mi-nate!" I've always preferred the older series to the newer one, which is still very good. I liked that the older stories were longer, and invariably split into several episodes, the stories in the new series often seem kind of rushed.