Tomorrow is Saturday (on the ball, me) and I've got the kids in the morning. Whoop. (Apologies if that didn't sound too enthusiastic).
Last Saturday, of course, was Doctor Who 50th anniversary day. And, like many families, we Whites huddled together in shared bewilderment.
Earlier in the day, I dragged Jamie to Bradford to sample the brand new Doctor Who and Me exhibition.
And I am delighted to report that it was a major step up from the Doctor Poo exhibition of a few weeks previously.
Oh yes. This time we had a Tardis.
We had an invasion (is that the plural?) of proper Daleks.
We even had an old Cyberman.
Actually, that's not true. We had two old Cybermen.
And here's the other one.
You know, that's not true either. The second "Cyberman" was just an old bloke in a silver suit, gold wrestling boots and a rubbish mask who really wanted to be a Cyberman.
You know, that's not true either. The second "Cyberman" was just an old bloke in a silver suit, gold wrestling boots and a rubbish mask who really wanted to be a Cyberman.
Him and I had a little chat and he explained that he wasn't part of the exhibition at all. But he just turned up to ask if anyone wanted to have their photo taken with him.
In common with everyone else in the room, Jamie didn't fancy it. So I told him he had to - or he couldn't go to McDonald's for lunch.
Our new Cyberfriend had no such worries. His sandwiches were in that plastic bag.
