18 April 2007

Geek Chic

There are times when one* mooches (or even, if being positively wiiild, skulks) about doing the same old things in the same old way, with it never ocurring to oneself that the mooching through the quotidien of life would be regarded as odd, bizzarre or disturbing by any other party that may happen upon said mooching.

Then there are those times when the realisation hits that other people may not do things in quite the same way, or have the same priorities, principles or inherently held belief sysytems as oneself. In fact, they may even think one a wee bit anal or obsessive or just downright weird for carrying out these certain mooching rituals.

I am of course referring to Dr Who.


And this is so much more than a mooching ritual (the definition of which is most clear if I define through example: reading the Guardian Weekend magazine before late afternoon on a Saturday is a mooching ritual, as is using the half hour between The Simpsons and tea time to catch up on the blogs and witty websites). It is a fully established institution. It cannot be carried out in isolation, but must be watched by the family en masse (though in near complete silence naturally). It is an absolute priority, and the closest thing the Kirks are likely to ever accept as religion.

I had never even entertained the thought that every other family was not like mine in its true, dedicated following of the Timelord. But when I explain that I can't possibly go out to the pub until after the sacred programme I am met with either a little chuckle at the joke I have so evidently made (followed by an embarrassed cough as they realise I am deadly serious), or just wide-eyed bemusement. And so the lesson is learnt once more: not everyone is like the Kirks.

There are two types of people in this world. Those who realise that everything must, and should, be put on hold for the 45 glorious minutes of Dr Who, excepting nothing, and that totally get that nothing above the faint sound of necessary respiration can be uttered during this time, and understand the all-consuming shivery awe the theme tune invokes as the hypnotic title sequence hurtles us to other dimensions. And those who just don't.

Dr Who really is a unifying force. One that should not be underestimated. One that should not be missed by going to the pub. And one that is so cool it even advertises converse.

*By 'one', I of course mean me. But I am trying to be inclusive, and tar everyone with the same grubby brush as I tar myself. For this I apologise.

4 comments:

Ma said...

I'd like it on record that only those named Kirk in the family follow this ritual - one of us ises the time to cook tea, clear up and do the Guardian crossword........

anna said...

Yes, you fall into the category of those who just don't get it. We should make you sleep in the shed.

Mike said...

It is the history and the resonances that so important as well - and this week is the Daleks! Who can forget Davros?

anna said...

um...those who weren't there the first time round? Does that make you feel old? It should.