Some of you might know (because I spent a lot of this weekend updating my status on Facebook) that I spent all weekend being a “handler” for Sylvester McCoy and Matthew Waterhouse at the local convention, for which there had been no advertisement and noone really showed up, which is absolutely insane.
THE SEVENTH DOCTOR WAS IN TULSA AND LIKE THIRTY PEOPLE CAME TO SEE HIM AND THAT WAS IT. WHUT.
Anyways! I feel like I could write a friggin novel about it. About the experiences, and, you know, I just might. But not right now.
All you do need to know is that I think in Matthew Waterhouse’s voice and I can’t stop slipping in British phrases.