You Will Reach the Top Alive

The Twenty-Fifth of September Two Thousand and Seventeen. Monday

So, it's The Princess Bride's 30th Anniversary. It is my favourite film, and I today I wondered why that was.  Obviously, there's lots of great bits,  great lines, great performances. It's clever and funny and exciting and romantic (it's very easy to drop into Peter Falk's description of the story: "Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles...). But I was thinking of the moment I fell in love with the film and I realised that it was that moment, and what it represented, that cemented its place in my heart.

We've set up the premise of the film: the story within the story. There's been the meta teasing of the relationship with audience with the interplay between Grandfather and Grandson. There's been the exposition heavy opening of the tale ("Murdered by pirates is good!") and the plot is underway with the kidnap of the titular Princess by a trio of comical rogues. So far, so good.

A hero appears, inconceivably pursuing the villains across the sea and up the Cliffs of Insanity. One of the trio remains to thwart the pursuer at the summit of the Cliffs while the others escape with the Princess. He is an expert swordsman so he wishes to duel the heroic Man in Black who, even now, is refusing to give up the chase and scaling the sheer rock face without the aid of a rope. 

A little more comedy. The swordsman is impatient for the Man in Black to reach the top. Of course, he could easily kill him as he climbs but he wants an honourable fight. The Man in Black has no reason to trust the swordsman's offer to lower a rope - he is waiting to kill him, after all - so tossing out some casual racism he refuses any help.

"I swear on the soul of my father, Domingo Montoya, you will reach the top alive," says Inigo, the swordsman.

The Man in Black matches Inigo's gaze.

"Throw me the rope," he says.

What had been an enjoyable enough film became something else then. This moment of startling sincerity in the middle of the stock storytelling and light irony resonated with me. It still does. 

It's a well worn trope, the honourable enemies. It's a useful justification for all sorts of masculine nonsense. But for someone like me, who finds day to day interaction baffling, who is constantly wondering at - and trying to understand - the motivation of everyone he talks to the simple clarity of this exchange strikes a chord. Someone says they'll do something, the other person believes them, the first person does the thing they said they'd do. I have always had a problem with ulterior decorating.

Throughout the film it's that naive belief that doing the right thing is important that gives the story its power. For all the archness and satire that informs the dialogue, the idea of True Love, that there is an ideal to strive for, is never sent up. But it is clear, especially in the book, that it is something that only exists in stories. This is the 'good parts version' after all. But it's the good parts that we're here for.

If you still haven't seen it, it's now on Amazon Video if you're that way inclined. Since this is my first blog in ages I'd better cite it as my Eleventh Film Recommendation -  might as well try and pick up where I left off.

Extra topical bonus video: with the NFL in the news at the mo, here's when ESPN's Kick Off programme threw in a ton of Princess Bride references:

More soonliest 

The Atomium Caper

The Twenty-Fifth of September Two Thousand and Sixteen. Sunday

Bill squinted at the the street sign again.

‘Why does it say “Bouchout Avenue” twice?’ she asked.

Bill and the Doctor were in Brussels. There had been beer and chips and chocolate and that had been nice but soon there would be aliens. Aliens that were going to steal the Atomium. Now the time travellers were stood on the road leading up to the famous Belgian monument, hatching a plan under the glare of the lights that illuminated the towering structure on this warm summer night. At least Bill thought that’s what they were there for, though she was becoming less and less sure.

The Doctor had been trying to weave a selection of different coloured wires into a very specific cat’s cradle pattern for the past ten minutes. The Paracorporeal Tilt-Shifter he was attempting to construct was a common enough sight in school playgrounds on Third Bandarat, a world on the far side of the Galaxy. But on Earth they hadn’t really caught on, not least because, unlike the Bandarati, most people living here didn’t have the four arms needed to hold all the threads in the correct position. The Doctor was making a good fist of it – two in fact – but his mouth, ears and chin weren’t quite up to the job. When half the wires clattered to the ground for the umpteenth time, he pretended it was Bill’s distraction that had caused his latest failure.

‘Why does it say what, where?’ said the Doctor, before realising he still had a wire in his mouth and repeating himself more intelligibly.

‘All these signs,’ said Bill. ‘They have the exact same thing written on them twice. I noticed it earlier too -  and not just street signs. Almost everything is written twice.’

‘There are two official languages in Brussels,’ said the Doctor. ‘That’s why there’s two of everything. It’s French and Dutch.’

‘No it’s not. It’s English and English,’ replied Bill and as she did so an Atomium sized lightbulb went on above her head. ‘Ahhh…’ she said, pointing at the Doctor.

‘Ahhh...’ he replied, pointing back at her.

Bill was au fait with the TARDIS’ translation abilities. She was familiar with them too. But somehow the effect always seemed odder when it happened with a language she recognised. Especially if…

‘I can speak French,’ she announced casually. ‘So how come it doesn’t look like what it’s supposed to look like when I look at it?’

The Doctor had clearly thought the conversation was over and had picked his wires up again. He looped them over his neck like a scarf. His eyebrows had become interested and so the rest of him had no choice but to follow suit.

‘Tu peux parler Français?’ asked the Doctor.
‘Un petit peu,’ replied Bill. ‘Shouldn’t it look French to a French speaker?’

‘Only if they’re a French thinker too,’ said the Doctor. ‘Not that we necessarily think in a particular language. The specific cognitive centres of the brain that are stimulated by the TARDIS’ telepathic matrices are analogous to –‘

“Only it is quite literally doing my head in,’ interrupted Bill. ‘It's like having the autocorrect on when I don't need it. I know how to spell fromage.’

‘So you want me to turn it off?’ asked the Doctor.

‘For French, yes. You can keep it on on other planets and stuff. I haven’t got time to learn Cybermannish.’

The Doctor sighed. He knew from experience just giving in to Bill would be the quickest way to get back to what he needed to do.

‘Close your eyes,’ he instructed. The moment they were shut he tapped her gently in the middle of her forehead. By the time Bill had opened them again, the Doctor had returned to his work leaving a clear view of the street sign once more.

‘Avenue de Bouchon,’ read Bill with exaggerated precision. ‘Quelle surprise…’

The message had been received at UNIT’s Brussels headquarters three days ago. A Thoughtship of the Jusp Exploratory Commission was due to phase through Earth’s native dimension on Tuesday. The message had come through with a long list of demands, mostly technical in nature, stemming from the ship’s need to refuel. Various alien defence initiatives were in the early stages of deployment when a second message arrived, correcting the spelling errors of the first and apologising for the fact that it would now be Wednesday before they arrived as they’d missed the turning for Earth’s plane of existence.. The extra information also aided UNIT’s translation programs and revealed that what had originally been taken for target coordinates were in fact a quantum mathematical rendition of the thumbs-up and taco emojis.


When an off duty UNIT Adjutant texted a selfie of himself and the Doctor at the Centre de la Bande Dessinée  to his husband, the Code Douze monitoring protocols immediately factored the presence in Brussels of their Scientific Advisor into the strategy for engaging with the Jusp. So it was that outside a fritkot in Ixelles that  the Doctor and Bill learned of the Jusp’s intention to steal the Atomium while having chips bought for them by the Director of the Belgian wing of UNIT.

‘Can you help us, Doctor?’ said Generaal Aakster, helping herself to some mussels.
‘Pass us the mayonnaise,’ said Bill.
‘I’m going to need a big idea,’ said the Doctor.


‘So what’s the big idea?’ asked Bill.

‘It’s what thoughtships run on,’ said the Doctor. ‘Big ideas, massive ideas, ideas above your station.’

'Like a big atom for instance?'

The Doctor smiled. ‘Like a massive representation of part of an iron crystal magnified 165 billion times.’ He gestured awkwardly toward the Atomium, his arms bound up with the wires of his would-be Tilt-Shifter.

‘But nicking it’s a bit much. You’d think they’d at least ask.’

‘Who knows what they think? These are creatures from an entirely different plane of reality, Bill. They’re about as alien as an alien can get. It’d be foolish to assign our values and beliefs to their actions.’

‘They ended their last message with a cat smiley.’

‘See! Utterly unfathomable! Have you got the souvenir?’

Bill reached into her bag. ‘It’s a bit tacky, but I couldn’t resist.’’ She retrieved a small plastic model of the Mannekin Pis. When she pushed down on its head it squirted a stream of water. Bill snorted with laughter. The Doctor shook his head in despair.

‘Not that one. The Atomium. You know, the one I specifically said to get so that I could cleverly fool the Jusp into taking something that although it was 2000 times smaller would give them enough fuel to get them away from Earth before they realised their mistake.’

‘You just said get ‘a’ souvenir! When did you say ‘2000 times smaller?’ When did you even mention that?’

‘Now, when I say ‘specifically’, I mean it in the sense of ‘it goes without saying’. That sense.’

Bill squirted the Doctor. Stuck among his wires he was a sitting target.

‘Right, you stay right there. I’ll get you your tiny Atomium.’ Bill stormed off down the Avenue. The Doctor dripped, his arms aloft, not daring to move for fear of coming undone. That was when the light coming from the Atomium started to turn green.

‘Bill, hurry up!’ shouted the Doctor. ‘They’re almost here!’


A couple of blocks away, Bill found what she was looking for. By the side of the road was a grubby old man she’d spotted earlier selling tatty gifts out of an old suitcase on the pavement. He was just about to close it up and Bill could see why. There was only  a single model of the Atomium left, modelled out of cheap translucent red plastic. Somehow, the man had managed to offload most of his shoddy stock and was now done for the day.

‘Attendez, M’sieur!’ shouted Bill, running up to him. He turned with a irritated grunt, causing Bill to pull up short. He was intimidating up close, in boots and combats, with a vest that showed off sunburned arms covered in amateurish tattoos. He was actually younger than Bill was expecting, but had the sort of gnarled face that made her think he enjoyed his ciggies. She realised she was right when he opened his mouth and released a furious stream of stale tobacco flavoured words that she barely recognised.

‘Hold on a minute, mate. Je desire acheter – ‘

The man shouted Bill down with another tirade, only one word in five making any sense to her. Realising she might have been a bit premature in refusing the TARDIS’ translation she resorted to the traditional communication method of the English abroad: pointing and talking slowly.

‘I – want – to – buy – your – rubbish – Atomium – souvenir,’ she said, jabbing a finger toward the tatty knick-knack. She waved a five euro note by way of sealing the deal. It was no good. The man picked up the model and launched into another unintelligible monologue. Clearly there was some reason he didn’t want to part with this last item.

Bill noticed everything had started to take on a sickly green hue even if the street hawker hadn’t. They were running out of time. Oh well. No point hanging around.

‘Regardez!’ she yelled and pointed behind the hawker. He didn’t react. ‘Ah, zut!’ she sighed, snatching the tiny Atomium and pelting it back toward the Doctor. As soon as the shock had subsided, the hawker set off in pursuit.

'Bill! Are you there? I’m starting to dangle – hurry up!’

The Doctor had his arms aloft, the network of wires held taut between various parts of his anatomy. From his perspective the huge bulk of the Atomium was framed within. Against the sickly green aurora that hung low in the sky he cast a long and spindly shadow. He didn’t dare move for fear of losing alignment with the Atomium. That ruckus behind him had to be Bill, hadn’t it?

Of course it was. Bill had managed to shake off her pursuer – or more accurately her pursuer had decided he had more important things to worry about when the green lights in the sky coalesced into something resembling a enormous crystal butterfly. This was the Jusp Thoughtship, hovering on angular wing-like structures that filled the air with a shrill wail as they vibrated.

Bill drew up to the Doctor and waved the stolen souvenir at him.

‘I’ve got it! What do I do with it?’

'Attach it to the Tilt-Shifter!’ said the Doctor.

‘Attach it? Where? How?’

‘Tie the control wire around it in a knot.’

‘Which one’s that?’

The Doctor and Bill were shouting now. The noise of the Thoughtship’s ‘wings’ had been steadily increasing, but had levelled out as a higher pitched version of a jet engine’s scream. The ship’s refuelling – the absorption of the Atomium – was about to commence.

The Doctor couldn’t even nod toward the correct one. A kink in a wire now would be disastrous.

‘The green one!,’ he yelled. ‘Tie it to the green one!’

‘They all look green in this light!’ replied Bill.

‘The one between my ear and my belly button. That one!’

Bill twisted the plastic Atomium into the wire as instructed. Immediately, its cheap red plastic pulsed with a weak glow, like an odd Christmas tree light.

‘It’s working!’ cried the Doctor. ‘Dimensional perspective is shifting. The model Atomium will be much more impressive to the Jusp. They won’t even notice the real one!’

Abruptly, the noise stopped.

‘See!’ beamed the Doctor.

Then the Atomium vanished.

'Although,’ said the Doctor, ‘if they were only after a small one to begin with we’ve got a problem.’

The plastic souvenir clattered to the ground as the Doctor relaxed the tension in the wires of the Tilt-Shifter. It broke easily and a detached hollow ‘atom’ rolled away apologetically.

The Doctor’s shoulders drooped, weighed down under the wires.

Bill stuffed her five euro note into his jacket pocket.

‘We’re going to have to get a new one, aren’t we?’





More soonliest.

Ode to Croydon

The Tenth of March Two Thousand and Sixteen. Thursday.

How did I end up in Croydon?

I mean, it's not the most glamorous part of London. Nobody seems to like it. It's making headlines at the moment as being the home of the 'Croydon Cat Ripper', the person or persons unknown responsible for senseless animal mutilations thereabouts (although subsequent victims have been found in Richmond and Edgeware, the 'Croydon' name seems to have stuck). There was a reward notice asking for information posted when I visited a couple of weeks ago. (Breaking news: during my research I came across an article in the Croydon Guardian about a psychic who knows the killer's identity. Apparently he has short hair and a wide face).

I had a quick look tonight to see if the news had gotten any better. I was promptly gifted with a You Tube clip of a mouse having a day out at the Burger King where I've enjoyed one of my brown breakfasts in the past.

Don't criticize the portrait alignment of this shot. From a documentary point of view I think it's important to establish exactly which menus the mouse is checking out.

Even as I was taking in news of the exciting new trailer for Captain America: Civil War tonight, I was reading tweets about what a let-down Croydon is.

Ha-ha! I have humorously edited that picture so that it looks like Spider-Man is in Croydon! And why not? When they started putting up high-rises in the sixties it was with the ambition of making Croydon a Mini-Manhattan. Nowadays it revels in a different nickname: The Cronx. 

I suppose the fact that the first link on the news page of the Croydon Advertiser is for 'crime' says a lot about what goes down there (and click on that link if you dare. It leads to some peculiar stuff). But until the day I inevitably do get mugged I'm rather fond of the place.

So how did I end up there? A combination of cheap rooms at the Croydon Travelodge and free travel on First Capital Connect services from the centre of London, basically. I can't remember the first time I stayed there, but I've been back many times since. It almost always seems to be the cheapest option when staying in the capital, and despite it's Zone 5-ness it's pretty easy to get to for a rail bod like myself with connections to Victoria, London Bridge, Blackfriars and St Pancras. It's been a stopover on the way to Paris on a couple of occasions. In fact, most of the time I've been there it's been only a stopover. So the last time I visited I decided to check out some of Croydon itself.

The Museum of Croydon is in the Clocktower at the Town Hall. Ah, the Clocktower. I don't know how well the above photo will zoom, but if you do look closely at the grey stone half way up you'll see a familiar inscription: 'Carpe Diem'. What you will also see is a less well-known inscription: 'Venit Nox'. A figure separating the two phrases holds a scythe, emphasizing the message of the ticking clock above: 'Seize the day, for the night cometh'. That's pretty rad.

The museum itself isn't huge - you could probably get round it in less than an hour. But it's full of interesting artifacts: a Crystal Palace season ticket from when they reached the First Division in 1969; a pottery figure of Nellie Chapman, the 'Lion Queen' of Victorian Croydon Fairs; and a wooden carving of 'Paper Jack', the eccentric tramp who slept on the streets of Croydon in the 1930s

Paper Jack

Listen it's got four stars - or those circle things at any rate - on Trip Advisor and I'd pretty much go along with that. 

I think what really won me over about Croydon is that it contains three of my favourite things (four, if you count the two comic shops down on Church St).

There is a Pie and Mash shop that will do you veg pies if you phone your order in before visiting.

In Shirley, there is a windmill. It's only open infrequently, so I plan to pay a proper visit in the future.

And, of course, it's home of Greater London's only tram line, which rather fabulously is free for railway employees.

So, I like Croydon and I'm looking forward to exploring it further. I haven't been to Croydon Airport yet, where Amy Johnson set off on her record breaking flight to Australia. And I'm determined to get in a round of frisbee golf at Lloyd Park.

Among the many disparaging remarks thrown Croydon's way is David Bowie's dismissal of the town in a 1999 interview in Q magazine. He says that if he wanted to be derogatory about somebody or something he would say 'God, it 's so fucking Croydon!' That seems to have been quoted a lot, summing up the world Bowie tried to get away from, with it's not entirely successful concrete futurism, bland and uninspiring. But what's not mentioned is how he completes that thought in the interview.

'I suppose it looks beautiful now.'

More soonliest

We'll Win the Fight (Then Go Out for Pizzas)

The Thirteenth of September Two Thousand and Fifteen. Sunday.

I remember the exact moment that Steven Universe became my second favourite television series, deftly accelerating past Columbo. (I suppose that means I'd better induct it as my Twenty-First Telly Recommendation). Like a lot of animated shows, there had been a slow drip feed of new episodes, so Cartoon Network had taken to using a 'Steven Bomb' - a week's worth of episodes shown after a long gap from the last lot. 'Steven Bomb 2' took place in June.

Hold on. I'd better do a quick introduction to what I'm talking about (I always forget to do that). Steven Universe is a Cartoon Network show created by Rebecca Sugar, an animator probably best know for her work on Adventure Time. She's also a songwriter and responsible for some of the best tunes from that series. Which explains why Sugar managed to crack one of the most important facets of any TV series - the theme music. Since I seem to be making arbitrary lists at the mo, I'll go so far as to say Steven Universe has the Third Best theme in television. That's the music that plays over the end credits. The First Best is Doctor Who (obvs). The Second Best is Steven Universe's opening theme.

Steven Universe follows a well-worn path for an adventure serial. Essentially we join the story in the middle. Steven is a young boy who lives with three magical beings: Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl - the Crystal Gems of the song. It's quickly established that they fight threats to humanity - so far, so super-hero. We discover that Steven is half-gem. His earthly father fell in love with a fourth Gem, Rose Quartz. We're joining Steven at a familiar point in a familiar story - a would-be hero growing up to fulfil their destiny. There are early hints as to the history that led us to this point and subtle set-ups for stories to come, but the first few episodes are about introducing the characters and establishing the world of Beach City where Steven lives.

The format is the usual Cartoon Network one of 11 minute episodes, like Adventure Time, Gumball and Regular Show and we're now about 70 episodes in to what has unravelled to be a complex story with lots of twists and surprises. A quick scoot on a Wiki or two would reveal everything but I'm going to ask you to trust me and start at the beginning. All the episodes are available at the World of Steven Universe. It doesn't take too long before you see how bit by bit the story is beginning to build and build.

And the songs! Funny, clever, heartbreaking and sometimes just flat out awesome (sorry for using that word, but it really is the most appropriate). They're beautifully arranged too. The makers of the show post lots of behind the scenes material and it's fascinating hearing the demos of the songs and comparing them to the finished versions. There are links to downloads on the World of Steven Universe site.

Here's a one of the lighter ones that isn't too spoilerific. From the episode 'Giant Woman' it's called, er, 'Giant Woman'.

The goat is called 'Steven Junior', by the way.

Anyway, I can't be too specific about why this strange cartoon is so fabulous without going into details that would spoil the story, so I'll just vaguely allude to such things as love, feels, female sexuality, parenthood, 8 bit videogaming, anime, self-worth and breakfast. And the fact that that brilliant end music I mentioned develops as the first season progresses, matching the intensity of the episodes that lead up to the superb finale before serving up a sweet sucker punch right after you've already been on an emotional rollercoaster.

So anyway, 'Steven Bomb 2' was airing. I'd starting getting episodes on US iTunes so they came with subtitles so No2 son could enjoy them more fully. We were about to watch the first of those episodes 'Sworn to the Sword' round at his house, so I was connecting my iPad to his telly. I set it off before switching on the subtitles and paused it as it was a second into the theme song. We all called out excitedly 'New titles!' and No1 son started berating me for my tech incompetence and interrupting the purity of this thrilling moment.

It reminded me of when, as a young man, I had been round at my best man's house when the new series of the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon started. There was an exciting new title sequence then too, followed by a brilliant, confident episode with all the characters well-established and flying (the episode was 'The Girl Who Dreamed Tomorrow' if you're wondering).

That's how I felt as this ep unfolded. It is a soaring, fabbo installment with the rare treat of two great songs in it. And as it closed Columbo politely moved out of the way.

More soonliest.

Tramalot Part VII

The Twenty-Second of July Two Thousand and Fifteen. Wednesday..

Onto the final furlong.

The Ashton Line

PICCADILLY GARDENS

'The song of the plants,' cried Chase. 'I composed it myself.'

 No green cathedrals to play in at these gardens. But even though it's mainly concrete, remember - no touch pod.


PICCADILLY

The automated voice ground on. 'There is no return. This is your Terminus.'

 Bit of a misnomer, this one. Yes, Piccadilly is a terminus, and used to be for the trams too. But there are through platforms. And nowadays the trams go through too...


NEW ISLINGTON

Cotton looked uneasily round the misty jungle. Ky could be anywhere out there, waiting to spring...

 There's a character called Cotton in this, and here we are next to the old mill in the heart of Cottonopolis. His partner was called Stubbs and there's a Stubbs Mill here too. Next door to the Cotton Field eco-park.


HOLT TOWN

'Halt, or you will be destroyed,' roared the Cyber Lieutenant.

 Heh. Even on this last leg there are some poor ones. This is just a good line to shout out in 80s Cyber voice so what the hey. I couldn't find a story with badgers in. I think one of the 10th Doctor novels has badger pirates, but I could be mistaken.


ETIHAD CAMPUS

'Have you seen this?' She rustled the paper at the Doctor. A headline 'Meteor approaches England' swam briefly before his eyes. 'Charlton have picked up three points.'

 Charlton played here at least a couple of times before they went down and more recently they were in a play-off here.


VELOPARK

He'd passed his cycling proficiency test, he was sure, but it had been a few centuries back and in a different body with a different centre of balance.

One rule I didn't mention. If it's an adaptation of a partially completed TV story that was never transmitted but had bits released on DVD it has to be an e-book. Back in the howling wastes of the Wilderness Years, this was another story that they made a web adaptation of, starring Paul McGann. I'm delighted that that's still available here.


CLAYTON HALL

'To know that life and death on an enormous scale was within my choice... that the pressure of my thumb breaking the glass of a capsule could end everything... such power would set me among the Gods... yes, I would do it! And through the Daleks I shall have such power!'

   Why? Because it's Genesis of the fucking Daleks, that's why. I pity the poor fools who don't have this in their lives ('Pi-ty?' The word sounded strange in the Dalek voice. 'I have no understanding of the word. It is not registered in my vocabulary bank.'). It's so good I did a preliminary pic with it at home base with a different edition.

It came out on LP, that's how good it is.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Genesis of the Daleks.


EDGE LANE

Ian noted with wry amusement that, although all these machines were undoubtedly centuries ahead of his own understanding, they still retained, with their elaborate brass fittings and antiquated pistons and levers, all the magical Edwardian splendour of a Heath Robinson mechanism, as though the Doctor had imprinted his own fascination with the Edwardian era onto his machine.

 Even in 1988, when this novelisation of a story from 24 years previous was published, Doctor Who was rewriting its past. The scene above never featured in the original TV version. Doctor Who has always stuck its tongue out at the idea of canon. Which is the definitive version? The earliest? The most detailed? The first version you saw or read? The restored and recoloured version? Telesnaps or animation? Extended 'movie' version or original TV edit? Let me settle this once and for all. I consider a story 'canon' if it has - bzzt! Bzzt! (signal lost due to Blinovitch Limitation Effect).


CEMETERY ROAD

It served in many campaigns: Pa Jass-Gutrik, the war of vengeance against the Movellans; Pa Jaski-Thal, the liquidation war against the Thals; and Pa Jass-Vortan, the time campaign - the war to end all wars.

The Special Weapons Dalek. I know it had a cameo in Asylum of the Daleks, but it's well overdue a return appearance. No 2 son pointed out that there was a modern version on the cover of Engines of War, which I hadn't noticed.

Cor.


DROYLSDEN

'I'll have a pint.' 'A pint of what, sir?' asked Morgan patiently. 'A pint of ginger pop!'

 Everyone know that androids come from Droylsden. That's right, isn't it?


AUDENSHAW

The tallest raised its hand in a pointing gesture. The hand dropped away on its hinge to reveal a gun nozzle.

 And Autons come from Audenshaw. With Liz Shaw! Oh yes!


ASHTON MOSS

'Kroll couldn't tell the difference between you and me and half an acre of dandelion and burdock - it's all food, and that's all that interests him.'

 I'm sure there's no end of moss on the swamp world of Delta Three.


ASHTON WEST

Ashton smiled coldly. 'Then goodbye. I do hope you avoid the Slyther on your way back.'

 Nothing too cryptic here. Ashton was the black marketeer at the Dalek mine. Check out that cover illustration. Movie references on the novelisation of the TV episodes. What was I saying about canon?


ASHTON-UNDER-LYNE

A thin, crimson tongue of lava gently licked over the volcano's peak.

 You get ash with a volcano, don't you? Logar be praised!

And that's it! I started at six in the morning and finished at half-ten at night. What a day that was. I'll add Exchange Square to the collection when it opens in the winter, but for now I think that's it. I don't think I'm going to try anything like this on any of the other tram systems in the UK - they don't have the local connection that the Metrolink has. Bit disappointed I was poorly on Saturday - I wanted to have a bit of a jolly on the Croydon trams (free with my pass) but I was a out of it and went to bed instead. Mind you, there's only 38 stops on that line. Maybe when Wimbledon re-opens.

Next tram-related nonsense: The new Nottingham lines when they open later this year.

More soonliest.

Tramalot Part VI

The Twenty-First of July Two Thousand and Fifteen. Tuesday.

I came back down the Bury Line and got off at Queens Road. I then took a short walk to the first station on the penultimate line of my trip around the trams.

The Rochdale Line


MONSALL

'Doctor, the shaking and the groaning have stopped.' The Doctor smiled sympathetically. 'Have they? Good. I'm so glad you are feeling better now, my dear.'

 Hah! I can't for the life of me remember why I chose The Rescue for Monsall. I remember it had something to do with the Monsal Trail and Haddon Hall but I can't remember what. I think it might have been that Eva Haddon was in the Radio 4 spoof Whatever Happened to Susan Foreman? and that's kind of what they were wondering in this story. Was that it? It had got to four in the morning by the time I'd got this all organised. Everything was a blur.


CENTRAL PARK

'A gateway?' said Romana. 'But what kind of gateway?'

 This station is on a road called The Gateway. Easy as that.


NEWTON HEATH AND MOSTON

Not far away, in his attic laboratory at the Newton Institute, Professor Thascalos held a trident-shaped crystal aloft.

 Professor Thascalos, eh? Why, that's slightly misspelled Greek for...


FAILSWORTH

The Doctor smiled back at him. 'Oh, what a nice new uniform,' he gushed. 'Smart, very smart. I wish I had one like that.'

 What? Bloomin' John Peel (not that one). He cornered the market in Dalek-related stuff in the nineties (he was the only person who got to write original Dalek novels and he did the Target adaptations) but he would insist on tweaking stuff. I chose The Power of the Daleks for all the hat business Troughton went in for in his early stories - Failsworth is a centre for the production of hats - but Peel has changed the above from the televised line 'I would like a hat like that'. Why would he want a uniform? That doesn't make sense. Hats! He'd want a hat. Sheesh!


HOLLINWOOD

Sarah moved close to the Doctor. 'Listen,' she whispered. 'I saw a Mummy. A walking Mummy!'

 There used to be a manor house called Birchen Bower in Hollinwood, home in the 18th century to an eccentric woman called Hannah Beswick. She was afraid of being buried alive, so upon her death she was mummified rather than interred. She was kept at her doctor's on King Street in Manchester, but returned to Birchen Bower every 21 years. When she was eventually put on display in a museum she was known as The Manchester Mummy. Cool, eh?


SOUTH CHADDERTON

Sarah looked round the quiet street, trying to get her bearings. 'This isn't Hillview Road. It isn't even South Croydon!'

 All right, this one is particularly poor. It's a bit of a stretch to claim that South Chadderton sounds a bit like South Croydon. But Sarah does say that it isn't South Croydon, so that makes it count doesn't it? Hmm? (I was in Croydon this weekend, incidentally).


FREEHOLD

Josiah moved slowly towards Control. 'You basest of creatures! You dare to defy me! I am a man of property!'

 So I suppose a man of property might have a freehold. Author Marc Platt alluding to the Forsyte Saga there.


WESTWOOD

To hear Holliday tell it, life aboard the TARDIS can't have been all candied yams and sassafras at the best of times.

 Wild West. Westwood rather than Eastwood, I suppose (that was another time traveller...)


OLDHAM KING STREET

'We sing in praise of total war, against the Saracen we abhor...'

 The King's Demons is my favourite Doctor Who story. But never mind that right now. Have the Horror Channel just cut the last shot of ep 3 of The Deadly Assassin where Tom's being drowned? Congratulations, Mary Whitehouse. You finally won.


OLDHAM CENTRAL

'The whole lower half of London is called Central City,' he said. 'There hasn't been a London for over four hundred years.'

 I think that's supposed be 'lower half of England'. I think that's what they say in the TV version (haven't checked). It doesn't make sense, 'lower half of London', if there's no London, does it? No sign of The Flash at any rate.


OLDHAM MUMPS

'Their infection will kill every living thing,' he said, almost proudly. 'I thought the local plaque was already doing that.'

 Mumps is a type of plague, isn't it?


DERKER

'As it is well known, malefactors trifle with me at their peril!'

 This is the story where the Doctor says he enjoys fisticuffs and that he taught the Mountain Mauler of Montana. And Derker station is just around the corner from a boxing gym.


SHAW AND CROMPTON

Liz Shaw returned  to the UNIT laboratory, a mug of coffee in each hand.

 There is a Doctor Who companion called Shaw. There isn't one called Crompton.


NEWHEY

Zoe raced across the grass to Doctor Who.

 This war memorial in Newhey is a grade II listed building.

MILNROW

Bells tinkled and cymbals clashed and horns blew as the Ceremonial Snake weaved its way towards the Cave.

 Part of the soundtrack for this story was released as 'Janissary Band'. Why, here it is on Ootoobay!

Janissary bands were the forerunners of the modern brass band and Milnrow has a particularly fab one of these.


KINGSWAY BUSINESS PARK

'You have blundered, Crozier, you have reduced the greatest business brain in the universe to a mere catchere of sea snakes!'

 I don't know if the Mentors of Thoros Beta have visited Rochdale at all, but if they have it would probably be here.


NEWBOLD
 

On a scale of 1 to 12 according to the Shebunken Formula, which was devised by Prof. Igor Shebunken of the University of New Caledonia to measure the destructiveness of international or interplanetary conflict, the Argolin-Foamasi War scored a 10.3, somewhere below total destruction and above the semi-genocidal level.

I just remember The Leisure Hive being described as a bold, new direction. What with the new theme music and titles and what have you. Is that a bit of a stretch? Ah, so what? Big deal.


ROCHDALE RAILWAY STATION

'What's a railway station?' asked the Alzarian. 'A place where one embarks and disembarks from compartments on wheels pulled along those rails by a steam engine.' The Doctor looked along the shimmering rails with nostalgic eyes. 'Rarely on time,' he added.

The TARDIS lands in a railway station! This should happen more often.


ROCHDALE TOWN CENTRE

'People like Clancey - miners and prospectors - were the first men to go out into deep space.'

The home of the Rochdale Pioneers is the perfect place to read about Space Pioneers! And that's the Rochdale line. One more to go....

More soonliest.

Tramalot Part V

The Fifteenth of July Two Thousand and Fifteen. Wednesday.

Off we go again.

The Bury Line

We double back into the city centre before heading North.




ST PETER'S SQUARE

'That wretched square again,' exclaimed Tegan. 'What's happening, Doctor?'

I think this is my favourite photo from the day. I haven't been in the library yet since it reopened. This stop has closed now and won't reopen until next year - a few yards further along. St Peter Davison kept finding himself returning to the square at the centre of Castrovalva due to space warping shenanigans.


MARKET STREET

The sound of gunfire was heard across the Market outside. 'What on earth's going on?' demanded Sir Charles.

 That brilliant bit where Billy Hartnell faces down a War Machine takes place at Covent Garden Market.


SHUDEHILL

'Is it true?' demanded Lexa. 'Did you see this other Doctor?'

 Ah, Lexa was played by the marvellous Jacqueline Hill who was Barbara, one quarter of the original TARDIS crew. That's the 'hill' bit. Not sure what the 'Shude' refers to.


VICTORIA

Victoria watched the Doctor and Jamie disappear inside the TARDIS. It seemed unnatural to her too, the fact that she was not going with them, and large tears began to roll down her cherry-red cheeks.

Wah! Fury from the Deep is where we say goodbye to Victoria. This would be very sad were it not for the fact that it means lovely, lovely Zoe is joining in the very next story.


QUEENS ROAD

'There is nothing "only" about being a female,' said Sarah indignantly. Never mind why they made you Queen - you are the Queen.'

Another deep cut this one. There's a Queen in the story. I don't want to spoil stuff for later on but I do the same thing with a King at another station. Also - documentary transparency and all that (no polar bear enclosure footage here, my friend) - I actually called at this stop after all the others on this line cos I came back to here, got off and walked to Monsall to connect with the Rochdale line.


ABRAHAM MOSS

'That's - Abraham Lincoln!' exclaimed Barbara.'That's what I asked for,' laughed Ian, not quite believing it. 'The Gettysburg Address.'

 Yes, if you're going to faff about in Time, Abraham Lincoln is going to figure at some point (see also Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure). Here it was on that Time Television thing that they got from the Space Museum in the previous adventure.


CRUMPSALL

There's nothing quite like tea and crumpets is there? I feel so much more relaxed.'

Crumpsall always makes me think of crumpets. And why not?


BOWKER VALE

'Fishing requires patience, Peri. I think it was Rassilon who said there a few ways a Time Lord can be more innocently employed than in catching fish.'

 I am reliably informed that Bowker Vale is a good spot for catching carp. No gumblejacks, though.


HEATON PARK

'Six?' Even the Doctor was astonished. Six suns - on Pluto?'

 The Sunmakers -  Heat on. I do apologise. Still, Pluto's all a bit topical, isn't it? After the historic fly-past by the New Horizons probe. Here's a lovely photo.

PRESTWICH

Mike Yates watched her, fascinated. Was he really about to witness a demonstation of real witchcraft, albeit white witchcraft?

 It's not really witchcraft in this story, so it doesn't really matter that it's a misspelled pun. But Damaris Hayman! And the wizard Quiquaequod! I bloomin' love Doctor Who, me.


BESSES O'TH' BARN

'Get on to the police,' said the male creature. 'There's some sort of lizard asleep in my barn.'

 Barn. The connection here is 'Barn'. I love Madame Vastra, but I do wish she had three eyes.


WHITEFIELD

He made a dive for the open doors, and was instantly swallowed up in the dead white nothingness beyond.

The beginning of this story takes place in a big field of white nothingness. White. Field.


RADCLIFFE

The second thing I saw was a glass Dalek! He was resting on a kind of dais and his casing was totally made of glass.

 Well, I chose this one cos, y'know, Rad and radiation like on the post-nuclear wastelands of Skaro. But in the book they talk about chemicals and pollution rather than fallout specifically. That's interesting, isn't it?


BURY

'Frontios "buries its own dead" - that's what they say, isn't it?'

 It's a noun! It's a verb! It's the end of this branch of the Metrolink! Now to head back down to Queens Road and then toddle over to Monsall and the Rochdale line.

More soonliest.