What I do on my summer holidays, by Scaramouce Tyler

Soundtrack: Carla Bruni, Emiliana Torrini, "Into the wild", and background noises. And heavy rain on our window panes. Lalala. And I've been drinking. Still, could be worse. Okay, anyways, cut to the chase, so; spoilers, rambling, fangirling, nonsense, holidaying, lack of sunbathing, frustration, sensitivity, emotional baggage and Eddie Vedder. Altogether. Hurray and beware and do watch "Journey's End" before reading this! I strongly recommend!

Bit of a reaction-post, this, and somewhat holiday-infected - once again - seeing that the laidback atmosphere seems to call for shorter, light and random ramblings, rather than long, extensive, pensive, theoretically overloaded articles. Not that I am particularly excited about those, either, but anyhow I will save both them and the comtemplating on their genre for later. Albeit, to be quite honest, judging from the surrounding circumstances, I could just as gladly have devoted myself to such new and complex matters, demanding loads of indoor studying and mind absorbing consentration acts, rather than the brighter, carefree relaxation-suited ones that I am continuously yearning for. It all comes down to abstract issues, of the kind we cannot control or actually alter; considering that they're managed by far superior powers. And, consequently, we may simply state how the genuine summer feel remains lacking, or at least becomes a bit thwarted, by the horrid weather conditions we are experiencing at the moment, the rather un-summer-like temperatures and a scenery that's heavily marked by rain and fog and mud. And local animals, but that's a different matter. In any case, they behold a trace of charm. Thunder storms definately do not. Nor do the compact masses of clouds, which maintain their positions above us and subsist as an impending blanket of obstruction - between all poor vacationists and the blue skies we know that lurk behind, but fail to reappear. And hence, I keep searching for alternative methods of vacating, also indoors, also marked by further mind absorption, to distract myself from any outside disappointments and turn to, well, emotional involvement. So, I spend my time, all these rainy hours, occupied with doing all the things that - in despite of all these possible, outer disadvantages, external hindrances, all inconvenience yet to intrude - still manage to give me a feeling of being on holiday. And that involves, a.o., watching films, reading tons of marvellous literature, listening to beautiful music, drinking great wine, and coffee, watching brilliant television, participate in interesting discussions, and other pleasurable activities to induldge in and bring me amusement. Admittedly not the most season-related, or especially out-of-the-ordinary, with respect to yours truly and her usual habits. It's, basically, what I take pleasure in doing on a daily basis; whose presence I count on, and depent on, to cheer me up at any occasion, anytime I have the blues. What else, it functions as an acceptable means of compensation for the season stuff I find myself prevented from; no swimming in the ocean, not relaxing in the parks, no outdoor picnics, no lunching on the porch, no boat trips, and hardly any bicycling or hiking or the likes - not thus far, that is. But hopefully, this will change, pretty pretty please and fingers crossed, and we will get our necessary share of summer joy, too, and meanwhile - I try my best to keep my spirits up the usual habitual way; the only way I know, the only way that's guaranteed to be successful, no matter what or where or how. Cultural impulses and personal engagement. Focus on the senses. Eyes open, ears alert, completely watchful. Ananlysis and mentionings of thus-related events are set to come, later on, I can assure you. Which, again, leads to the following fair beginning of a recollection - that's even more to the point:

The biggest event of them all, recently, which I spent most of last night trying to prepare myself for, and thereafter process; saturday, july 5th 2008, saw the long-awaited broadcasting of the "Doctor Who" Series Four finale, the very last episode of this season, entitled "Journey's End", and it was basically crammed with excitement, anticipation, expectations and indefinite amounts of love. Beforehand, amongst the fans, as well as in the episode itself, which inlcuded about the same magnitude of tear and laughter-inducing factors and heart-warming relations and extremely enjoyable sequences; as always, created by a bunch of outerworldly talented people combining their skills, hard work, enthusiasm and unbelievable will power to create some of the finest pieces of television I have ever seen. They obviously have a smashing time, working together, and their fine chemistry is reflected both in the excellent production quality and, of course, in what's projected onto our screens: which, on this particular occasion, was top-notch all over. It's a subject that will, definately, be further addressed in days and weeks and years to come, but for the time being I've attempted to come up with a depiction, a report, of my immediate response as of yesterday evening. What the viewing experience was like, how it felt, what my most prompt and evident opinions were. And, most of all, it was a comfort. I could finally breathe, and breathe steadily; all my nervousness put aside, all my scepticism, fears and worries laid to rest. And now it's over, and we can look back; meaning, I can hardly believe Series Four has already passed and I can't wait till next Christmas, but I'm determined to reflect on the sharpest memories, the most recent adventures, what's there to rewatch; as of now, and for the upcoming future. First and foremost, the finale sessions, and in a word: the essence of Doctor Who-adventures. Absolutely fabulous. It was bound to be a matter of either/or; liking or disliking, utter satisfaction or completely dissatisfied; and I am happy, not to mention relieved, to say that I belong to the group of people who adored this story, who absolutely loved it, and who felt that it all made sense, what a perfect roundup, and what a sorely needed closure for The Doctor, for his friends, and for his fans. Everything coming together, so to speak, all the little bits and pieces of storyline gathered up into a fitting puzzle, and everyone united. Joining forces against the army of Davros, and the Daleks, but more importantly: linked in a union to protect The Doctor, whom they all have to thank and whom they all owe allegiance to. The one person they will all find reason to fight for, and to love. Forever. The most striking scene of the entire episode was, undoubtedly, when the entire crew were in the TARDIS console room, flying the ship in an effectful and wonderful act of co-operation - and with the earth itself in tow, no less. From the old, wise and faithful Sarah Jane with her experience, to the cheesy but marvellous Captain Jack - and I cannot fully express how delighted I am to have John Barrowman back, oh boy is he fantastic! - to the strengthened, toughened-up and definately more likeable Martha Jones, brand new edition, to - of course - The Tylers; Mickey and Jackie making a sweet cameo appearance, reminding us all of how much we've missed them, and then finally, most importantly, the best-ever-ever trio of "Doctor Who"; in the entire history of the show, in all of time and space; the three people I cheered for throughout: Donna Noble, Rose Tyler and The Doctor. Together at last. Not for a very long time, it has to be said, with regard to the settlement-endings and all, but regardless; it was a bliss, while it lasted. We even got some proper, back to the old days Doctor/Rose moments - combined with the utmost brilliance that is DoctorDonna on the move, in action. It started off with the first part, "Turn Left", where the two ladies met and bonded, then "The Stolen Earth", where they met again, and bonded even more firmly, and where we had the memorable running sequence that had every fangirl out there on their knees, approaching certain death from squee, so amazing you had to watch to believe it, and last; there was yesterday's finale, where the dear duo teamed up with the rest of the gang, everyone being totally magnificent, everyone making everyone enthusiastic; co-travellers and watching fans alike. It's true, it was hard to fathom. Apparently, the TARDIS is designed to carry and be controlled by a way larger number than a single person, or a meager two, but I mean - at the end, it was pretty crowded in there! Although, it was good. Molto bene. Moreover, the Doctor's requited love for all of them; he obviously enjoyed this massively, and had the best of times; and second, his rediscovered care for Rose, in particular, and the two of them getting the chance to spend some new moments together, on another journey, in addition to Donna's being such a fond Ten/Rose shipper and supporting their reunion intensively, were fact that just add to the whole pleasant enjoyability of this final chapter. In all, it was indeed the incredible fan-fest we'd all been crossing our fingers, but barely dared hope for. Superevil, superfun and superfriendliness attached, in every detail, and David Tennant is gorgeous as ever. And he's clever. Favourite parts: Dalek interrogation, as executed by Davros the Deadly, and presumed dead, after which came gunfighting, meaning loads of fancy weaponry, also - the ingenius tactics, Donna's toying around with the villains, all the twists, Martha's newfound resourcefullness, Daleks speaking German, at which point I almost lay on the floor laughing, the slighlty subtle handling of the Osterhagen key, inside jokes, plain jokes, unfunny jokes, Torchwood humour, Kylie Minogue in flashbacks, Lynda with a Y - flashbacking too, the superb CGI, which reminds me of the required mentionings well-deserved by the production department guys; let me hereby salute and honour the directing, editing, music and writing, once and for all, because it really doesn't get any better. Murray Gold is a genius, albeit he does steal heavily from Morrcione; not that I have any objections, by all means; and also Graeme Harper - as classic as he is indispensable - who contributes with come formidable camera angles, and the ones responsible for costumes/cinematography; prices all around. For stunningness. Furthermore, the actors; beginning with Catherine Tate, the Greatest, who even surpasses The Doctor and Rose with regard to my personal Favourite amongst Who-Folks, because she's so absolutely grand. Beyond comparisons and off-the-scales. Here, in her final installment, she was at her very, very, very best and delivered the finest of speeches, the most exquisit of acting and the funniest of gags. She also showed, to all of us, the enormous transformation she's undergone, playing out every personality she's taken on, throughout her time spent on the show; from the annoying (yet hilarious and hysterically entertaining) bride, on an unwanted runaway, to Donna the SuperTemp, using any and all commonplace work experiences to commit aweinspiring, life saving deeds, to Miss Noble, the indispensable, the part-Time Lord; and, she does stand out as the only one of his co-travellers who could have earned her moment as The Doctor's equal; connected both to the powers of the TARDIS and to man himself, thereby proving exactly why she's a character of sheer brilliance and exactly how her character features have been evolving so brilliantly over these fourteen episodes where she got to shine. Wonderwoman. Will be missed so badly, I haven't even managed to commence dealing with her departure yet. She's simply irreplaceable, they'll never find anyone more suited, they'll never find anyone who could, in any respect, be any better. She was perfect. I love Donna Noble, I love everything about her, with all my heart. And I bawled my eyes out when The Doctor bid her farewell, of course I did. The dialogue, the score, the aftermath. Pure cruelty. Because we could so well understand her despair; she didn't want to go back, she didn't want to take leave, she wanted to stay with him forever, enjoy more of this wonderful life; so much left to discover, so much yet to be seen. But fate wanted it otherwise. Destiny, injustice or co-incidence; regardless of reasons, her reign is up, and I'm in shock. Bewildered. And so very sad. The ideal companion; best of all time, hands down; and she had to go - it's not fair! Nevertheless, we've got fourteen ep's of DonnaDoctor to rewatch, in all their glory, and that's a bit of comfort. Also, on an even brighter sidenote: three ep's which feature Billie Piper - whom, I have to add, is marvellousness personified, rather perfect too, and she's pretty! My goodness, is she beautiful, and so photogenic. And a stellar actress, no wonder. Had to go as well, and too soon, but that was rather anticipated and not so shocking and, thank god, equally well-handled. (In fact, it was the best thing ever; more on that to follow later, including pictures.) Next, of course, The Doc himself; David Tennant; and might I just stress the incredibility of Mr. Tennant's performances, especially when half-naked. Still wish the camera had moved downwards, just a bit. He's a star when he's by himself, just as he is when he's starring opposite others, and also when he is cloned into a double-vision-version of his said self; who proved a slighlty more enterprising and definately more aggressive kind of Doctor, by now left in the good hands of Rose Tyler. That's right; the penultimate of all ultimatumness; an episode in which we did not only have one Doctor, we had two Doctors, and they were both David Tennant. Every fangirl's sweetest dream come true, although the outcome of the cloning procedure wasn't quite as sweet as one could have wished for. But, I mean, one in brown and one in blue; there's little more to ask for. And it did create a whole different set of dynamics, having The Doctor interact with another copy of The Doctor; who was, additionally, very revealing as to the darker elements of his identity, and what secret desires hide behind that polished, careless, suit-clad shell in which he tries to find shelter. I think RTD came up with a brilliant idea and made it into a brilliant story, and I don't care about the rest of the speculations, as little as I care about whether the common opinions are coloured with anger or bathed in bliss. I wholeheartedly applauded every single second of this episode. Not as much as I did during "The Stolen Earth" but then again, that's the best-ever-episode of all time. This is a close second, and I'm content. Especially due to what came after the fightings and horrors and spoiler-packed conflicts that I won't decribe too much, here, but praise with all my might. What matters most to me, however, is the return to Norway, to Dårlig Ulv Stranden (...yeah, it translates into Sick Wolves Beach, but whatever); and then, last and most significantly, there was the kiss. Naturally, in the most ultimate of all ultimate DW ep's, there had to be a kiss, and more specifically: where The Doctor was kissing Rose, or the other way around. Thankfully, all wishes were granted, and we got a proper, downright snog. On the beach. And my jaw dropped to the floor, although it wasn't too unexpected. Wonderous, yes indeed, but not too surprising. After all, most of this episode revolved around the reunion and, in general, the complicated, fateful relationship of The Doctor and his Rose. How would they deal with this; what would they make of the fan-made, public, realistic or surreal assumptions, existing around this pair? I was quite concerned indeed. But what a solution we got, to this dilemma, and what a tearjerking sequence that became. I know fans all over the place and fangirls in particular will hold and utter the wildest, most varying and probably disturbed sorts of theories as to what actually happened and how right or wrong it can be considered to have been, for an attempt of solving this, but I can't imagine anything that would have been more reassuring, more appropriate. It took a while for the whole solution to grow on me, and for me to recognize its consequences, the actual situation behind it all, but then it dawned on me and I was pleased. I'd realised, it didn't disappoint; maybe upset me, maybe put me off - a bit, because I'd have wanted it to be a fairytale, proper fangirl as I am - but "Doctor Who" is not about naivity, simplicty, the easy way out. It's tragic, it's trouble, it's terror. But once in a while, it works out nicely. At least, some of us think so. And I'll discuss this further, later on, as mentioned above, but my conclusion remains the same: it was nice. It felt right. He gave her what she deserved; a confirmation, a confession, and a part of himself to spend the rest of her lifetime with, exactly the way she'd wanted, and just what she deserved. He made her special, as she'd made him the man he is today; a better man, and special too. It was a token of love, any which way one sees it, and it was made for loving. As far as I've been able to tell, though; from reading reviews and similar blogposts which delve far into its various aspects; a lot of people did become appalled by the last scenes of "Journey's End" and felt they were cheated; deprived of a true happy ending, or dissatisfied with a happiness they felt was wrong. My argument against all hatred, all displeasure, is that such a smileyfaced and Hollywood-ish and cliché'ed end séance would have laid the whole thing in ruins and broken the bond that still exists, and always will exist, between the couple that is Ten/Rose, as well as the terrific companinship that is Doctor/Donna. Similarly, you cannot disregard or ignore the connections between The Doctor and these two women and how it is bound to affect the series as such, and the outcome of any finale in which the three of them are involved. And here, they pulled it off superbly and we got some epic success; as distinct from the awful shortcut solutions we might have had, and have had, as directed by mister RTD; known to commit major failure, here and there, in times of pressue. Yes, instead of a big time tinkerbell jesus angst disaster, we got a bittersweet, not completely consoling parting of the ways, that still managed to be sufficiently redeeming - and beautiful; I found massive amounds of beauty in all of this, and I enjoyed it to the max. It was the best thing we could possibly have got, and the most satisfying, because it provided closure. On every single level. Everything was sorted out, and resolved, and put in order; to a certain, if limited, if saddening, if melancholy, but all in all satisfactory extent. Even the whole Rose-issue, as it is probably described by the loathers, shame on yee, was taken care of properly; and hence we're left off with a fulfilled, ready and promising opening to new seasons, yet to come; leaving Stephen Moffat, the genius - and fortunately, the new boss of Who - in full charge of what's now a blank sheet, an unmarked opportunity that he may do with whatever he wishes, and I behold strong faith in his decision making, his creativity, just as much as I wish him the best of luck and keep counting on his ability to continue the brilliant work, the memorable traditions, and wonderful foundations, as estabilshed by his predecessors. And, thank heavens, David Tennant is still The Doctor. I'm not sure how well I could've handled a departure from him, or a regeneration into whoever else but Alan Rickman, and we all know he's not available at the moment. So, David for the win; with or without the angst; I do cross my fingers, Moffat will bring some more joy and lightheartedness into the show, but I bet the sadness will work just as well under his rule, as it has with Russel as its main commander. Still, RTD loves everything depressing; after all, the last image of the last episode, which is now eternally imprinted on my mind, was that of David's sorrow-stricken, desperate, lonely glance -into the vast emptiness that is an empty console room; cleared of all its gleefull travellers and all their happy voices - dressed in his regular white shirt, here drenched in rain water, probably thinking about Rose and Donna, and making us all cry and feel unfathomably sorry for him, but hey! - whatever would Doctor Who be, without the involvement-generating emotionality? They pull us in, and drag us down, into the piles and dams of sentiment, and in return they shower us with quality! The best there is, of television shows, and I can't say much except thanks a lot and I've enjoyed the ride and please come back soon, and I love The Doctor, Rose, and most of all: Donna. Squee!!