I'm typing this from the spare bedroom in my Grandparents' house; Mum and I have been staying here for a few days and we're leaving in about an hour.

Running water! Showers! Baths! Clean clothes!

I feel a lot better now.

Anyway, Dad claims that our internet is down at home, so if I can't get access when I return later today, this is just a post to let you know that's I'm going away for a week and won't be back until the 4th August. I'm off on a creative writing course in Somerset - hurrah!

Have a good week, people. Farewell!

You know, I like running water.

I know that's quite a controversial opinion for public webspace; just thought I'd put it out there anyway.

Well, The Gloucestershire Echo has gone with the headline Water water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. Predictable, no? Anyway; it's been raining for about three days straight, monsoon levels, and now we have no running water throughout the county.

The words bloody massive irony spring to mind.

Gagh, it's a disaster. Cheltenham seems to have mostly dried up, which is a relief, but Tewkesbury is still pretty much underwater, and there is more rain to come. We were even graced with a visit from Gordon Brown, although I'm not sure what part of the county he flew to. It definitely wasn't here; we've come off lucky. Still, the town is without water for an indefinite anount of time, and it's...a bit of a pain. Just a tad.

I know people always say this, but it's so true; you never really pay attention to the mod cons until they're gone. We're coping fine without water; we've saved a fair few gallons, which are taking up the whole kitchen in various bottles and containers. But still, everything becomes so much more complicated without it, and I keep finding myself being ashamed at being affected by it; countries in the Third World are incredibly worse off by comparison. We in the West are so used to having things done for us, that we become flustered when things are taken away.

If there is ever an apocalypse, 28 Days Later-style scenario, we're not going to do well, are we?

ANYWAY. We should regain water in a couple of days, according to the newspaper reports. Thankfully we still have electricity. Mum has said that if our power fails, that'll be it; we'll uproot and go and stay with my Grandma for a few days. So far, that seems unlikely.

...I should really go out. Mum's told me that now the whole town's out of water (it was only select areas, including here, yesterday), there won't be any shops open, but I have to get out. I feel like the walls are closing on me.

On the plus side, it hasn't rained today. It was even warm, earlier. I can see patches of blue underneath the clouds.

Right. Must go out before I snap, barge into my brother's room and tell him Deathly Hallows secrets. Or something. Anything to pass the time.

Rosby out.

Well, it's quarter to one in the morning, and I have just finished Deathly Hallows after almost a straight day of reading it.

My immediate reaction:

WHAT???!!!

Whether that's a what of enjoyment, anger, amazement or total bafflement I'm not sure. (Probably a bit of all of them.)

More on it later on.

*collapses*

It's already a well-established fact, but I thought I'd give it just a little more oomph; I AM AN IDIOT.

I had a job interview today; lovely little shop on the Prom that sells gift cards, ornaments, all kinds of things. It looked like a lovely, friendy place to work, and I was called on Tuesday to say I had an interview this morning.

And, oh Lord, it was awful.

The day didn't start off well with the two-mile slog through absolutely torrential rain; by the time I got there my jeans were soaked halfway up both legs and were dragging in the puddles. Lovely. Thank God I had an umbrella.

There were two people interviewing me; a woman, and an older man. It started off marginally swimmingly; I told them about myself, and about my family and how I'd finished school. Then, completely out of the blue, the man asks, "What's 15% of 200?"

The words "totally thrown" don't even cover how surprised I was. I mean...why? The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. I can appreciate that anyone working the tills has to have a basic knowledge of Maths, but when on earth would they need to do percentage calculations in their head? Or am I being naive?

The horrible thing was, I was so surprised, I drew a complete and utter blank. Urgh, it was so humiliating. I sat there for about a minute trying to work it out and failing miserably. After a while, he just said, "Okay, you don't know..." in a horribly patronising and extremely unsympathetic way.

I managed to get one eighth of thirty-two, though. Even crippling unconfidence and fear doesn't take away any fraction skills.

The rest of the interview, I'd rather not go into. Basically, rapidly draining confidence + uppity, cold interviewer = disaster. I don't know if it was my lack of confidence that caused him to be such a bastard, or it was his manner that made me uneasy. I think it was a bit of both, to be honest. But from the very start, he made it clear he wasn't impressed with me, and made no effort to make me feel comfortable.

Oh, God. I mean, despite lack of experience, I'm very aware that interviews for jobs are not designed to be sunshine and rainbows; they're meant to ascertain a candidate's full potential, and sometimes you can't go easy on them. But, for God's sake, it was an interview for a sodding teenager, for a little shop on the Prom. Since when did that give him cause to put me on the spot like that, and basically look down on me and make me feel two inches tall?

I'm fully aware that I didn't do brilliantly either, but I honestly don't think I'm entirely to blame. I went for an interview with another shop a few weeks ago with a guy called Daniel; he was about twenty-three or four, and he treated me like an equal, and made me feel comfortable and at ease. And as a result, I performed a lot better; although I wasn't offered a permanent job, I am top of their list, and I'm told that he was very impressed with me.

I'm rambling now. I just think that I was treated unfairly. And I'm not only saying that because I didn't do well; I know that I must have looked like an idiot at least once. But Mr Spectacles-Maths-Interrogator's attitude did anything but help. He was a positive hindrance. I wish I'd been interviewed by the woman; she was friendly and tried to talk to me, instead of at me.

So yes, it was a disaster; I headed straight out into the rain, found the nearest wall and collapsed against it, muttering, "Shit, shit, shit!" for about five minutes. I felt like I'd been ritually humiliated. And this is my complaint; surely there is some kind of rule against doing that to minors?

I had to get a cookie to cheer myself up. Didn't work. Then I walked two miles back home in even heavier rain to find my brother still in bloody bed, with a full dishwasher and wet washing in the basket. I was in such a dark mood I ended up hammering on his door and yelling at him to get up.

Cruel, I know, but needed. And it worked well; he ended up getting up and emptying the dishwasher. He was incredibly pissed off with me, though.

Well, another interview bites the dust. On the plus side, Mum and Dad were both sympathetic, which I wasn't expecting. They both said that, judging from the interview, it probably wouldn't be the best place to work anyway. And I starting to agree with them; for a little shop, they appear to be taking things a little too seriously.

God, this is not good. School has officially ended for everyone, now, and I still don't have a job. Not for lack of trying; I must have handed in my CV to every shop with a Vacancy sign in the window. And so far, nothing. I'm close to munity.

I'm Daisy. When I grow up, I'll be Daisy Steiner, I just KNOW it. And, as much as I do love Daisy, I don't want to be like her very much. I keep watching Spaced and getting startled at sudden similarites that just fling themselves at me.

(Hmm, maybe I'll be a weird mesh of Daisy and Tim; like Daisy, but with Tim's geekiness and fandom-involvement. Although with Doctor Who instead of Star Wars. Oh God, have got to stop this. Do not want!)

I'll give it a go tomorrow, I suppose. I might be meeting the-guy-I-really-like for a coffee in the afternoon, so that can be an interlude in amongst the job-hunt.

(Spent almost all day with him yesterday. 'Twas glorious, and not only just because of the weather.)

I'm still *so* pissed off at that man. Although at least I've passed the stage where I just want to flail hopelessly yelling "FUCKING FUCK FUCKETTY FUCK!" That got seriously tempting earlier. I think Michael Jackson music (Billie Jean is not my lover...) and bacon sandwiches helped.

And Jack/Ianto-related material. Ahem.

It's been pouring for twenty hours straight, and almost every street in Cheltenham is flooded. If there is a God, I think he gave our school a perfectly sunny day for Charity Day on the field, then gave us torrential downpour to make up for it. *sigh*

Harry Potter tomorrow! It totally slipped my mind until last night. I'm such a hypocrite; I maintain that the whole franchise is totally overrated and causes too much fuss, yet I'm desperate to find out how it ends. It gets into your head, see. My parents haven't even read the books, and they know the names of the main characters.

(My Dad was going to call me Hermione when I was born; I can't even begin to thank my Mum for intervening, especially as I look like her. The character, not Emma Watson, anyhow.)

My brother has promised to buy this one, seeing as I've bought the last three. What do you think the chances are of me venturing into town tomorrow, visiting guy-who-I-really-like (I'm not sure how to refer to him) who works in a bookshop, and somehow not finding out the intricate details of the plot before I get home? Very thin, I expect. I'm definitely avoiding several of my haunts on the internet for a few days.

(Note to self; when you start to call them haunts, you're online too often.)

RIGHT. MUST LEAVE NOW. If I keep typing I'll never stop. I'm listening to I Can't Decide as I type this. I'll say this for Rusty; he managed to create a perplexing, weird, and very confusing series finale, but he did manage to introduce me to a Scissor Sisters song that actually ISN'T awful.

Rosby out. Congratulations on the review, Marie!

Just had a quick read of this interview.

That pretty much confirms it; John Barrowman and James Marsters will be getting, how shall we say, rather personal in Torchwood series 2.

I know bugger all about James Marsters, and could count the episodes of Buffy I've seen on one hand, but OH LORD, YES.


Ahem.


...I'll be over here wibbling helplessly in my corner if you need me.

God only knows how you're going to cope, Lisa. (I know you're a Buffy fan, after all.)

It's a stupid idea, obviously. Completely insane; the sort of thing you get in slushy films starring Hugh Grant.

Very stupid idea.

But so bloody tempting.

If I was going to do it, I should do it now. I won't see him much after today, after all.

I really want to do it now, but it's the sort of thing I plan and never have the nerve to do. I'm too scared of his reaction.

I could do it today if I saw him; it would be over in a minute or so.

RIGHT. Am at least going to give it a shot. If I dither for too long I'll lose the nerve.

(It's obvious I'll get there and chicken out, but damn it, I've got to at least try.)

I'm off. Will report back later.

(Sorry for being cryptic and annoying - it'll keep you guessing, anyway.)

Well, all is relatively normal in the household of Rosby this Sunday evening; Joe is being grumpy and playing deafening music, Mum is watching Big Brother (for reasons that I can't even begin to fathom), Dad has retreated to his cave, and I'm sitting here and remembering that it's been over a week and I still haven't reviewed Doctor Who yet.

Right. Here we go.

...hmm.

See, it's far more difficult to do this one, because my reaction was so different to what it usually is. I definitely remember exactly how I felt whilst I was watching it, so it's not a case of forgetting (it was 2am, after I'd got back from Pride London, and seeing as I'd been disappointed on the big screen front I was determined to watch it before I went to sleep), it's just...I honestly didn't know what to make of it. Still don't, really.

Let's break it down. What I liked:

- Martha finally getting to do something consequential; after all this emphasis on her being a medical student, clever, bothered by her family, she hasn't done a massive amount except run, scream, and panic. It's nice to see her being the one who sorts everything out. Freema's acting was much better this time, too.

- John Simm. Oh, John Simm. From lip-synching to the Scissor Sisters to dying in the Doctor's arms (by way of serious wife-snoggage and mad, evil genius dancing), he was brilliant. Absolutely fantastic as the Master; it's so good to have someone who can match up to Tennant. He definitely stole the show in The Sound of Drums, and kept it up for this one.

- On a completely superficial note; Jack covered in grime, chained up, getting to shoot things, and returning to Torchwood. Hurrah! (More on Jack later, though.)

- Every weeny little bit of Doctor/Master interaction. Those two work superbly together, don't they? There was totally convincing chemistry between the pair of them (and no, not the shippy kind, although that hasn't stopped the slash fans going mental), and I was crying along with the Doctor when the Master died in his arms. Wonderful.

- The Toclafane being revealed as Utopia-bound humans; not only was I proved right (as were many other people), but it wrapped up the story in Utopia very nicely. Plus, the face in the metal ball was creepy and disgusting enough to give the little kiddies nightmares, which is always something.

- "This is me, getting out." I'm sad that Martha's leaving, because I do like her despite some dodgy acting moments, but I did love the way they dealt with it; people have been complaining so much about how she keeps going on about her unrequited love for the Doctor, but...why shouldn't she love him? It makes a very nice change from the Doctor and Assistant being in love with each other and never saying anything. Plus, I am *deeply* familiar with the "getting out", distancing technique. And it hurts quite a bit, so I do feel for her.

- The Titanic. Pure win.


Right. Hmm, I seem to have thought of a lot of positives for this one. Now for the negatives;

- As much as I liked Martha being the central figure, I just wasn't very impressed with the reveal that all she'd done was talk to people. I mean, I know that was the Doctor's plan, but I was all set for a combat, kick-ass Martha who's hardened and stronger than she used to be. Finding out that she's just been talking does take away that element of her personal growth. I don't know. I'm not making sense.

- The Doctor/Messiah telepathic floaty nonsense. Granted, I didn't hate it quite as much as Marie did, but it's such an easy way out. My favourite Doctor by far is flawed Doctor; he's certainly a hero that travels around the Universe saving people, but he is by no means perfect, and is often forced to make decisions that aren't for the best. Thinking about it now, that's one of the reasons why the series 1 finale was so good, and why I loved Eccleston so much; remember "coward or killer"? He chooses "coward, any day", and you admire him more for that. I think the same about Jack in Torchwood. Presenting the Doctor as this perfect saviour being who saves the day thanks to people's prayer takes away that novelty. Plus, it's totally transparent. Chibnall did exactly the same thing in the Torchwood finale, and it doesn't work.

- Doctor in a cage. I don't completely hate this, but I'm veering towards the negative. It's just so...*weird*. Scares me a little.

- Magical Reset Button. The ultimate Deus Ex Machina, and too bloody easy, once again. It's the perfect way of putting things back to normal, and it's insultingly simple.

- Jack. Right, this is where I really start ranting. As glad as I was that Jack came back for those three episodes, he may as well not have bothered. Asides from a couple of minor reveals, and a delicious scene with the Doctor in Utopia, there has been no point in his presence. He was left on Earth for over a hundred years, and there is no hint of confrontation with the Doctor, no apologies, no real closure. The Doctor has been completely dismissive and not bothered to deal with how Jack must feel being trapped in linear time after all these years. Jack's main role in these episodes seems to be wandering around looking gorgeous and shooting things. Which is always good, but we need more. All us Torchwood fans hoping to find out more about him, hoping for some kind of explanation, or for Jack to get to grips and accept his immortality, are distinctly miffed. Russell simply inserted him into the finale, realised he'd have to do something with him to avoid a fan mutiny, so tacked his big reveal onto the end of the episode. Oh, speaking of which...

- The Face of Boe. This has divided the Torchwood fandom into three sections; the WHAT?, the HA!, and the NOOOOO! I am part of the NOOOOO section, myself; what the hell was he playing at? It's as if Russell visited the nearest livejournal and found the most ridiculous speculation he could find. It completely takes away the mystery of Jack's eventual fate, and it just doesn't make any sense. Plus, Jack's obviously shown that he is a very social and physical person; he life revolves interacting with people, with running around trying to save the world, and not least, intimacy; he is widely-known to be a pansexual man-whore. (Ahem). He is *not* going to be the kind of person to end up as an unmoving head in a big jar. He just isn't. I don't know if I'm fan-wanking or not, here, but that's just how I feel. It's the most pathetic and paper-thin reveal. I'm in the process of trying to erase it from my mind; it probably won't be mentioned when Torchwood returns, so I can forget about it.

- I have absolutely no sympathy for Martha's family whatsoever. At all.


...I'm well aware that those explanations are incoherent and not very deep. I'm just letting the words come out without really thinking about them.

SO. That's what I thought. It was brilliant, but Rusty tried too hard to make it unusual and different, and a lot of things are very jarring as a result. And the lack of Jack was just infuriating.
As for new companion news...gah. I have absolutely no doubt in Catherine Tate's acting ability; she is an RSC woman, after all, but I HATE Donna's character. I really do. If she spends the whole time acting like she did in the Christmas episode, I may stop watching. With any luck, she won't. That's all I'll say on that for now; I'm reserving judgement until I actually see her do it. I've been proved wrong numerous times on this kind of thing.

(Plus, I hate The Catherine Tate Show; "Am I bovvered?" repeated a million times does not constitue comedy, in my opinion.)

RIGHT. That's it. Doctor Who is over for another year; and I have enjoyed it exceedingly. Freema Agyeman did have quite a few dodgy acting moments, but overall she did well. I loved all the episodes, bar the Dalek two parter and The Shakespeare Code. I've had fun squeeing at things, and I'm looking forward to the next series.

I'm really not doing a good job reviewing this, am I? I'm trying to stay positive, so I have less to type about. My fingers are killing me. Maybe I should try another time. I'll talk about it a bit more soon, I promise.

*sigh*

I miss it already...