"Manner may be, and, in most cases, probably is, the cloak of the heart; this cloak may be used to cover defects, but is it not better so to conceal these defects, than to flaunt and parade them in the eyes of all whom we may meet?" - The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, and Manual of Politeness, A Complete Hand Book for the Use of the Lady in Polite Society
She was called the Nanny.
That's not to say she wasn't called other things as well, but Nanny seemed to fit her best. It rolled off the tongue easier than Governess or Nurserymaid, and Nurse had come to mean other things besides one who looks after children – plus, it had a medical implication now that reminded her rather too much of a certain other Time Lord who shall remain nameless for now.
He shall remain nameless at the moment because she had resolved not to speak to or of him, even – no, especially in her own mind.
How that man irked her.
Not that it was anyone's business, but in case there are questioning minds, which she believed should be encouraged generally (though there are exceptions, such as polite company, teatime, and any point of interaction with Vogons); he irritated her because whenever he was in her company he alternated trying to dazzle her with cleverness, show off his eccentricity, or brood in silence.
Not only was it a nuisance, but it was exceedingly poor manners.
How did he come up anyway?
Oh yes. His particular preference with Earth. If one could sort through all the rubbish that tumbled out of his mouth, one might believe that he was somehow appointed its sole guardian – simply because he been banished there for a regeneration or so was no reason to lay claim to an entire planet. Especially one that she had spent so much effort on.
Certainly he had saved the Earth a time or two, but what Time Lord hadn't? Most of he had done was meddling, anyway. He might have saved the Earth, but she cared for it, and for its most precious resource.
Its children.
It was her calling, her purpose, the heart of her name.
No matter what ridiculous situations it resulted in (ranging from residing in footwear borrowed from the race of giants in a neighboring galaxy to a mishap that left her in the body of a Newfoundland (what she would have done to that flying boy if she could have spoken!)), she couldn't imagine doing anything else.
Which brings us to the present moment, where she is nostalgic (an interesting phenomenon for a Time Lord, as they can experience nostalgia for both the past and future, or any combination thereof, depending on their timeline), and is reviewing her recorded aliases.
"Matilda, McPhee, Piggle-Wiggle. Aha!" She pauses the screen as the next name appears.
"Poppins, Mary. England, early twentieth century, I believe." A smile tugs at her mouth as memories of the children she had helped, as well as some other… acquaintances wash over her.
"Now, who needs a Nanny?"