Doctor Who

Last night was pretty quiet. I spent most of the evening watching Doctor Who on DVD. I watched An Unearthy Child, which was the first Doctor Who story broadcast back in November 1963. In the story, set in London 1963, two school teachers are curious about a girl who displays an unusual amount of knowledge of science and history, so they follow her to her home, which is nothing more than a junkyard. They follow her inside and confront her strange, elderly gradfather, The Doctor (played here by William Hartnell), who they accuse of having locked the girl up in an old police telephone box. Breaking in, of course, they find that the telephone box is in fact a vast time and space machine and that the girl and her grandfather are aliens. They are soon whisked back to the Stone Age and spend the next three episodes involved in a leadership struggle amongst a tribe of cavemen. The original conception of Doctor Who was that it would be primarily an educational series about history, and that most of the stories would involve The Doctor and his companions traveling back in time and interacting with historical figures, with occasional stories set in the future or on other planets with aliens and whatnot. However the purely historical stories were abandoned very quickly.

I also watched a Doctor Who story called Remembrance of the Daleks, which was first broadcast in 1988. In this story the seventh Doctor (Sylvester McCoy) and his companion Ace (Sophie Aldred) travel back to London 1963, where they and a military task-force are caught up in a battle between two rival factions of Daleks over a powerful device created by the Time Lords, which the Daleks want to use in their endless attempts at universal domination. It was a good story. They were both very good actually.

I went to my parent's house today as usual. Since it was my mum's birthday on Friday, we went out to a restaurant called Howies for lunch. I had a venison burger with onion relish and melted mozarella cheese, and chips, with a chocolate brownie cake topped with vanilla ice-cream for dessert.

I was listening to a show on the radio this afternoon called Adventures in Poetry which this week was discussing a poem called "Matilda Who Told Lies and was Burned to Death" by Hilaire Belloc, which was very amusing.

MATILDA WHO TOLD LIES AND WAS BURNED TO DEATH.
by Hilaire Belloc

Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,
It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;
Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
Attempted to Believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,
And would have done so, had not She
Discovered this Infirmity.
For once, towards the Close of Day,
Matilda, growing tired of play,
And finding she was left alone,
Went tiptoe to the Telephone
And summoned the Immediate Aid
Of London's Noble Fire-Brigade.
Within an hour the Gallant Band
Were pouring in on every hand,
From Putney, Hackney Downs, and Bow.
With Courage high and Hearts a-glow,
They galloped, roaring through the Town,
"Matilda's House is Burning Down!"
Inspired by British Cheers and Loud
Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,
They ran their ladders through a score
Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;
And took Peculiar Pains to Souse
The Pictures up and down the House,
Until Matilda's Aunt succeeded
In showing them they were not needed;
And even then she had to pay
To get the Men to go away!
It happened that a few Weeks later
Her Aunt was off to the Theatre
To see that Interesting Play
The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.
She had refused to take her Niece
To hear this Entertaining Piece:
A Deprivation Just and Wise
To Punish her for Telling Lies.
That Night a Fire did break out—
You should have heard Matilda Shout!
You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,
And throw the window up and call
To People passing in the Street—
(The rapidly increasing Heat
Encouraging her to obtain
Their confidence)—
but all in vain!
For every time she shouted "Fire!"
They only answered "Little Liar!"
And therefore when her Aunt returned,
Matilda, and the House, were Burned.