Alice Doesn't Work Here Anymore

Sunday - it's another Breakfast with Baker, courtesy of the BBC. Good excuse to get up early. No oversleeping allowed when plans for the day include a final pack-and-go trip to the office.  I have raised procrastination to a high Art.  Everybody should be known for something and I am known for abundant procrastination and a complete lack of punctuality. Now there's a splendid epitaph for my gravestone, if I was going to even have a gravestone, which I'm not. Cremate me, put the ashes in a cute little urn, or perhaps one of those little bear-shaped squeeze bottles that Jimmy Bear's uses for their barbecue sauce, and put me on the shelf next to Ira and Athene.

Oh crap, I overslept anyway. Fortunately it is still mid-morning and time is on my side. Not so much that I can sit down to an hour or two of watching Tom Baker as the Fourth Doctor, but we watched a tremendously good "Doctor Who" last night which just goes to show that while Clara Oswald, the Impossible Girl, was born to save the Doctor, Peter Capaldi was born to play the Doctor.

No sense delaying the inevitable.

Everything has its time. And everything ends.