Dr Who returned to British tv last night. The familiar theme was there: the
human-looking figure from above, who dies but returns from death, the only
one of his kind, whose mission is to save the human race, who suffers for
our sake, and is (traditionally) celibate. While amidst the make-believe, or
should I say the regeneration of myth, smoking from the Doctor's sleeves
like a chasuble, there was the desolation of a real and absolute death: a
leading actress from the cast (the 'family' they call themselves) who had
died a few days before aged 63. Who died into the darkness of Easter
Saturday. Who will live on, in memories, in images on the screen.
It reminded me of something but I can't think what. The moving finger
writes, then writes again.
--
David Joseph Bircumshaw
Website and A Chide's Alphabet
http://www.staplednapkin.org.uk
The Animal Subsides http://www.arrowheadpress.co.uk/books/animal.html
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