Luke’s Attic #2 – Mister Smith And The Doctor


mr_smith_sja_2For once, Luke felt no irritation when Mister Smith sounded his trumpeting fanfare. Mum had berrated the ancient mind of the machine so many times for this, but today Luke was comforted by the sound. Happy memories flooded back as Mister Smith revealed himself. The flashing console and the comforting, pulsating light from the screen gave Luke the confidence that Sarah Jane had always seen in him.

Good evening Luke,” said Mister Smith. “It has been a long time since we have spoken; how may I assist you?

Luke stared at the two pieces of paper that he had picked up and read. He couldn’t understand any of what Mum had found and printed out, but he was able to read her handwriting, and the panic in it:

456“Mister Smith, Mum was upset about something and was researching it before… you know. I found something while I was tidying up and I don’t know what it means.”

A slot opened in the console.

Please feed it through to me, Luke.”

Luke did so. He knew that this might take a few minutes and so he wouldn’t be able to ask questions of Mister Smith. He was thinking to himself though. What Mum had written seemed urgent; important. Mum seemed afraid. How was the number “456″ important? What was back, and why did Mum think that children were in danger? He would have to wait for the big computer to give him some answers.

Finally, the piece of manuscript was run back out for Luke to retrieve. Mister Smith began his run-down and diagnostic.

The 456. An alien race whose name and origin is unknown. They claimed many lives when they descended to Earth four years ago – adults as well as children. A child had to be sacrificed in order to destroy them, and now a new wave has returned.”

Images of the “456″ – or the tentacles that were visible within the tank they’d ordered to be made for them all that time ago – flashed across Mister Smith’s monitor.  A Hydra-type creature was seen to slam itself up against the front of the tank.

The 456Luke recoiled in horror at the sight of the hideous creature. He knew he had to act.

“What can we do, Mister Smith?”

The computer sighed, sadly.

We, Luke, can do nothing. I am currently contacting people who can; you shall hear from them shortly.”

“So, what..?”

Luke’s question was cut short as a rushing noise filled the air. His hair flew around his face as a large object appeared in the corner of the room. A blue object that looked rather like a police box.

The object solidified into reality, and the doors opened. An eccentric looking, gangly figure wearing a bow tie and braces (and was that a fez?) came dashing out, spinning and jumping as though he were an overexcited grasshopper.

“Whoah!” shouted the strange figure. “Oh, I know where I am! Haha, it’s been a long time! Geronimo! Is that Mister Smith? Hello! I’m here! Now, the question is, why?”

The crazy figure whirled around once more, and inspected Mister Smith’s screen; a worried frown appeared. “The 456. Oh no… we are in trouble…”

Luke didn’t recognise this person, and yet somehow he was… familiar. Had they met before? Could he possibly be..?

The strange man turned around again, and kind, ancient blue eyes fixed on to Luke. Ancient eyes in a young face.

“Hello, Luke,” said the man. “I didn’t look like this the last time we met. I wish the circumstances had been happier; I’m so very sorry about your Mum.”

“Doctor? Oh Doctor, I’m so pleased to see you! We have a problem and I don’t know how to fix it. Did Mister Smith contact you?”

The console blinked in to life. “Yes Luke, I did. Please do not talk about me as if I am not here.” Luke apologised, and Mister Smith took himself back inside the wall.

Luke turned back to The Doctor, wondering what the plan was. As though The Doctor had heard his unanswered question, The Doctor continued speaking.

“We’re not doing this alone, Luke. Oh no, your Mum would never have allowed that! We have help and that help has come with me!”

The lights began to flicker. Luke heard a fuse blow somewhere and a light bulb somewhere in another room shattered audibly. Luke knew that sound.

A girl stepped out from the TARDIS. A beautiful girl of about seventeen, with brown hair and a sweet smile.

“Hello, Luke,” said the girl. “It’s lovely to see you again. It’s me; Sky.”

Posted in 2013, Creative Writing, Creativity, Doctor Who, Fanfiction, Sarah Jane Adventures, Sarah Jane Smith | Leave a comment

Luke’s Attic – Doctor Who/Sarah Jane Fan Fiction


Why does my muse always have to return at 2am and keep me up writing and searching pictures before publishing the work? Does this happen to other writers?

People have been asking for a sequel to my goodbye to everybody’s favourite Doctor Who girl – Sarah Jane Smith – since I wrote it last year. I hope you enjoy! Continue reading

Posted in Creative Writing, Elisabeth Sladen, Sarah Jane Adventures, Sarah Jane Smith | 1 Comment

Appalling From Facebook


Missus Tribble:

I have Romany Heritige that I am immensly proud of. I have reported this disgraceful page myself and had the same response from Facebook. Apparently if you’re a Romany, a Witch, a Pagan, Shamanic, Druidic etc., you’re fair game because you’re not human!

Originally posted on Beautiful Haibun:

In yet another example of cheap and easy racism against the Roma gypsy people, Europe’s largest minority, Facebook refuses to take a page down called “Gypsies To The Gas Chambers.”

More here, from Romea.cz

May I remind readers that Roma gypsy people never planted one bomb, never tried to grab any land or commit any violence against any other ethnic or national group in Europe. They are full European citizens, constitute Europe’s largest minority and are the easiest target for racism and blame for all manner of social ills as they have no country to defend them, though recently India has been making enquiries about state racism in Hungary and the Czech Republic.

The Roma people died in the gas chambers of the concentration camps too. Nearly all of them – nearly 2 million. Roma gypsy children were experimented on in the most horrific of ways by Nazi personnel like…

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‘Hard working people’ doesn’t work for me…


Missus Tribble:

As of late I’ve been feeling a little disparate and very much like a burden on the tax payer, in spite of knowing perfectly well that I can’t change things and that it isn’t my fault. This is a very timely reminder for me that – actually – I earn every penny of my disability payments simply by trying to live as normal a life as possible. Recovering from serious epilepsy-related injuries takes time and a good deal of effort on the part of my body’s system and this often leaves me too weak to get out of bed, if I haven’t broken something and am just unable to get out of bed anyway. I am no wimp, thank you very much, so if I say that I am incapacitated for any reason then it means that I am incapacitated!

And I work hard, every day, just at getting better and trying to shuffle about as normally and as safely as I can.

Originally posted on Paul Bernal's Blog:

There are few expressions that annoy me more than ‘hard working people’ – and few that we hear more in the current political climate. There are so many things wrong with it that it’s hard to know where to start…

What is ‘work’?

That the first question for me. What is ‘work’? What does it mean to work ‘hard’? Is paid work the only work that counts – because that’s the way that it often sounds. Certainly the implication is that housework, caring for kids, caring for relatives, for older people, for people who are sick or disabled, doesn’t ‘count’ – and yet for anyone who’s ever done much of that (and I doubt that many of the people who roll out the trite expression ‘hardworking people’ have ever experienced much of this) it’s every bit as ‘hard’ as any kind of paid work, every bit as stressful, every bit…

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“You Should Get A Job…”


Wheelchair“… And then you’d be getting paid for something worthwhile complaining about.”

I looked at her; a pretty woman with blonde hair, a stinky attitude and a smug expression on her face. I stand some inches taller than she, and yet I could feel myself shrinking under her gaze as she regarded me in the same way you’d regard something nasty that found its way onto your shoe. Continue reading

Posted in "Mutants", 2013, Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life, Animal Neglect, Animals, Attitudes, Barking, Born This Way, Bullies, Bullying, Cruelty, Disability, Disability Aids, Disablism, Discomfort, Dogs, Dreams, Emotional Pain, Epilepsy, Epilepsy Action, Epilepsy Awareness, Injuries, Medication, Neurological, Not A Supermarket Tomato, Nuisance, People, Personal Goals, Pets, Proud To Be Me, Rant, Seizures, Self, Stupidity Gets A Tag Now, The Ignorance Of Strangers, Wheelchairs | 36 Comments

Yip! Yap Yap! *Whine*


staffie

GOOGLE IMAGES

This blog post has been inspired by Ems over at Blogspot. If there is a “problem” dog in your area her article is well worth a read.

Of all my family members, I’m probably the only one who loves dogs more than I like cats. I have always been a dog person (the friends who are owned by a beautiful – and very silly – Staffie similar to the one pictured here will attest to this).

I have no objection to the sound of a barking dog – if the dog is doing a “happy” or “excited” bark whilst having positive interaction with an owner. Over the years I’ve lived next door to some yappy dogs who were thoroughly spoiled rotten and didn’t bark unless playing “fetch” or if the doorbell rang. A blogging friend has a little dog that likes to go out on the balcony and yap at pigeons for a couple of minutes until she’s inticed back indoors, and I would have no issue with this type of barking either. The dog barks because it sees something interesting that  it wants to interact with but can’t get to. Dogs do this. Continue reading

Posted in Animal Neglect, Barking, Dogs, Nuisance | 11 Comments

Count The Shadows


When you’re a Whovian, if somebody mentions a library you immediately think of the episode Silence In The Library and the Vashta Nerada:

Vashta NeradaI’m sure that library staff the world over are fed up with asking someone if they need help, only to hear the response “I’m just counting the shadows” – but if they’ve ever watched the show they probably expect to hear it anyway.

I wonder if this might be the reason that our new local library was designed in the way it has been? Plenty of windows, bright furnishings, not a single thing to cast a shadow. No Vashta Nerada would be able to hide in there!

In fact, here is our library:

LibraryAs you can see, it is light, bright and welcoming – no shadows here! On Friday I was sat at that very table in that very chair, reading A Night To Remember and enjoying getting out of the house for a couple of hours. This library is so close to home that the tree visible in the far right window marks where our house is – just behind it.

I have some books on order that haven’t arrived yet, but when they do – and when my arm has healed – I shall enjoy taking Vera (my laptop) over the road to read up on what I’m researching and take notes. Obviously I could do this research at home, but it does me good to get outside of these four walls to meet people. Also, who can study when a neighbour has a distracting, annoying yappy dog? So the dog seems to be getting some training now, since I complained for a second time, and sounds far less frustrated… but I’ll still go to the library to research my chosen projects, thanks. I’d much rather be surrounded by happy kids than try to study with a yappy dog going on in the background for hours on end!

Apparently I’m allowed to recommend books. Well, Marc Schuster, Martha Reynolds, Diane Duane and Jane Thomson are at the top of my list! Brilliant writers, all.

D is volunteering there today. I wanted to go over there for a bit but my arm is still bad and my books aren’t in. Hopefully I’ll be well enough on Friday to at least go over and meet the volunteer who loves Doctor Who.

I have lots of blog posts I’d like to write once I’m able to get out of this bed and do something without wrecking my arm again, but that will have to wait for now. In the mean time I apologise for being so dull!

Posted in 2013, A Madman With A Box, Adapting, butimbeautiful, Deeper, Diane Duane, Doctor Who, Fandom, Geekiness, Health, Hobbies, Injuries, Learning, Library, Marc Schuster, Mark Schuster, Martha Reynolds | 4 Comments

Along Came A Spider


OuchSince  I  last blogged, various things have happened – mostly to me as opposed to for me, but that’s nothing new.

The first thing that happened to me was a young female spider, who I was examining in the garden one afternoon. She ran up my arm and I thought she’d dropped off my shoulder, but she hitched a ride inside my t-shirt and I saw her running across the bedroom floor the next morning. I wasn’t worried; I could catch her and put her out in the garden some other time.

Some nights later, there she was on the bedroom ceiling. I grabbed a glass, hopped up on the bed, reached up with the glass in my left hand (I’m ambidextrous, but lead with my left side) and… Continue reading

Posted in 2013, Doctor Who, Geekiness, Injuries, Learning, Libraries | 10 Comments

Title reveal! Our new Anthology


Missus Tribble:

I am honoured to be a part of this and am looking forward to reading stories from other parents!

Originally posted on Writer's Block:

A little while ago, I discussed the search for a new name for an Anthology I’m putting together. It’s always a tricky process – finding something which captures the essence of a work, and balancing the temptation of an intriguingly obscure name with one which simply tells you what the book is about!

The Anthology is a collection of work – artwork, poetry, essay, short fiction and interviews – on the subject of honest motherhood. The real experience, in all it’s complexity, addressing the conflicts it raises for women, the changes in our lives, and also the rich variety of experiences that women have as mothers. We feel that the media discusses the issue in a simplistic and dumbed-down way, and we’re trying to expand the conversation about motherhood, and give us some new ways of thinking about it.

The name?

The Milk of Female Kindness – An Anthology…

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Shackles of the Mind


Missus Tribble:

Introducing you to my friend and a wonderfully eloquent writer. Injury yet again prevents me from writing anything cohesive and this blog post absolutely nails how it feels to be diagnosed in adulthood, having learned independance.

Originally posted on Arranging Reality:

This post has been hanging around in my files for quite a while.  I’ve finally got round to posting it.

 

I spent the first 30 years of my life not knowing I had a learning disability – about 85% of my life at the time of writing this. I was treated like a non-disabled person, I did the same things as non-disabled people, I was a non-disabled person. I didn’t even know I had a comfort zone, and yet I went outside what I would now consider it to be on a semi-regular basis. I didn’t ask anyone’s permission or advice before doing something new, or risky. If I wanted to buy something I couldn’t really afford, I bought it – I didn’t ask anyone’s advice on whether to buy it, I bought it. I thought nothing of walking home alone at night, even when I lived in London.

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