The Doctor's Christmas List
"What sort of man doesn't carry a trowel?! Put it on your Christmas list." Brian scoffed.
"Dad. I'm thirty-one. I don't have a Christmas list!" Rory retorts.
"I DO!" I bellow from several feet away.
And I do. It's me, the Doctor, speaking by the way, just in case you didn't already know. I know that some people might think it's odd that a nine hundred and seven year old still has a Christmas list, but I think it's quite alright. There is no rule saying that you must grow up, only that you must grow old. I've met Santa on my travels actually, very nice chap, his transport isn't as nice as mine Claus is also a very lovely woman, she made cookies for me to take which were absolutely delicious, and their children (triplet girls by the name of Carol, Noel and Holly) are utterly delightful!
You're probably wondering what on earth a timelord would want for Christmas because having lived as long as I have, surely I have everything imaginable? Well, this is almost true. About 60% of the TARDIS is dedicated to bits and bobs I have acquired over my years of travelling. I have everything from the national plant of Florana (a flower that is similar to Earth's rose, it's called Vrisknav and has a particularly strong scent but it's defining feature is that it does not die) and pieces of spacerock from various planets.
So, to begin with I'd like bow ties, lots more bow ties. I have lots of them, but one can never have too many (bow ties are cool... so are fezzes) and some more suspenders would be useful too, Amy thinks they look good on her and keeps pinching mine! Silly Pond...
A collar for K-9. He's a robot dog but there is something that is somewhat lacking from the general canine experience and short of putting fur on him, this is a close as I can get for him. Of course, it won't just have aesthetic uses, it will be an upgrade. Among other things, it will enable him to have a higher accuracy rate when shooting and a heightened sense of artificial smell.
River needs a new wardrobe, come to think of it. The room that I dedicated for her clothes is now overflowing (I'm not joking, you go down that corridor and there's a door, open that door and hats and bras fly out at you, poor Rory learned that one the hard way, I think I still have a photo of him lying on the floor looking horrified as he discovers a turquoise silk bra on his head). Amy could do with her own too, because she keeps stealing River's clothes (mother daughter relationships eh?)
I need an intergalactic space communicator, my last one broke because Donna (this was a while ago, mind) was mucking about with it and now it's in pieces somewhere near orion's belt when I chucked it out the TARDIS door in frustration. It's not really something I use often, but it's handy when the TARDIS is in a huff and won't function.
All these things are well and good and all, and if I got them I'd be very happy, but there's just one thing that I really want for Christmas... my little cockney, Rose Tyler. Don't get me wrong, I love the Ponds, but sometimes I ache for Rose. I wonder where she is, what she's doing. Whether she's had Posy and Timothy yet (once we got into a conversation about children's names. These were her favourite names.) or, indeed, if she ever found her one love. Did she get her dream job, or is now working at a chipshop? Will I ever know?
The thing I really want to know, is how long it will be until I forget her face... what if one day I wake up, and I can't remember exactly where her dimples were, how her hair was parted? What if one day her image slowly fades from my memory, and I can no longer remember how her face looked in the early morning sunrise?
I know I'll never get Rose Tyler back, but I do get a Christmas wish. That's right, isn't it? I get a wish? I can't have Rose, but I can wish her well. This year I'm using my wish on her. Rose Marion Tyler, wherever you are, be happy. (And stop cheating at Poker! I KNOW you're not that good!)
