There’s a man, he lives on a cloud, and all he does is to stop all the children in the world ever having bad dreams.
From the trailer for Doctor Who: The Snowmen
The TARDIS consists of over 45 pieces of individually cut brushed aluminium. Together they create a faithful reproduction of the iconic phone box, instantly recognisable throughout the universe as the Doctor’s time machine.
I must have it!
How did I not know about this and why the fuck don’t I live in Sydney?
Last night was the first performance of the Doctor Who Symphonic Spectacular at the Sydney Opera House!
Get ready for an invasion as Sydney Opera House opens its doors to Doctor Who in a musical celebration of the iconic BBC series. Presented live on stage by special guests and Doctor Who stars Alex Kingston (“River Song”) and Mark Williams (“Brian Williams”), try and keep pace with the Doctor on the big screen whilst the concert hall is overrun by hordes of monsters - watch out for the Silence, Daleks and Cybermen!
Following sold out shows in Melbourne the Doctor Who Symphonic Spectacular features Murray Gold’s captivating music from the last two seasons of Doctor Who performed by The Metropolitan Orchestra, conducted by Ben Foster.
A wide range of Doctor Who merchandise is available including exclusive, limited edition items created by the BBC especially for this event. Stock is limited so pre-order a merchandise package with your tickets to ensure you don’t miss out and save $20 off the at-show prices!
Merchandise package includes:
Doctor Who Symphonic Spectacular exclusive tote bag
Doctor Who Symphonic Spectacular exclusive poster
Doctor Who Symphonic Spectacular programme
Doctor Who Symphonic Spectacular lanyard and laminate
What I always enjoyed about Morticia and Gomez was how they made no secret that they passionately loved each other. We get so used to seeing depictions (on television especially) of married couples in continual states of contention—belittling one another, falling into the wife/mother-husband/child trope, and generally disrespecting each other, which made me wonder why they even bothered marrying in the first place.
But Gomez and Morticia never lose their desire and respect for each other. Is it because they’re “weird” that it’s acceptable to depict married life so positively? Or are they “strange” because, after three children and a lifetime together, they still adore each other? I know no marriage is perfect, but wouldn’t it be nice if the media portrayed marriage as more than a continuous state of exasperation and anger? Maybe that’s why romance novelists and romance novel readers are so embattled: because we dare to believe in love.
“How long has it been since we waltzed?”
Despite the darkness of the Caribbean nightclub, we could clearly see her mascara was streaked down her cheeks and had begun dripping onto her pretty white sundress. Once she noticed, she cried even harder. “This. Is. A. New. Outfit,” she choked in between heaving sobs. It was a little heartbreaking to watch.
Accompanying the free-flowing saline was snippets of the story behind the breakdown. The breakdownee, named Erika, had been the subject of unrelenting ridicule at the hands of a few folks in our group of about twelve. All of us down there were present for various facets of work, and only half were true friends from New York.
The rest, including Erika, had never been on a jaunt such as this and, as goes with any newcomer hanging with an already tight-knit group, were subject to hazing in the form of deplorable shots (Prairie Fires, Three Wisemen, warmed 151, etc) and endless mocking. Which had gotten to the poor thing. “No one likes me,” she wailed, the club’s strobe lights infrequently illuminating exactly how hard she was bawling.
Now, Erika is a genuinely nice person. A cute girl with a great body, who always tried to have a positive demeanor and a bubbly smile affixed to her face. However, when she got tipsy and subsequently drunk, her insecurities emerged rapidly and her self-appointed faults were the precise things members of our group honed in on and used as weapons against her.
People wonder why I’m depressed. It’s because I hate myself. I hate the way I look, my personality, my “quirks”. I hate it all. And I’m trying my best to get through that, to learn to love myself, but it’s hard after having felt like this my whole life.
People just don’t get it. I don’t choose to be unhappy, I don’t want to be unhappy, I just am.