Doctor Who double drabble for
aervir, who challenged me to do it a while ago. Ten and Rose in Oxford, sometime in the eighties.
“Well,” said the Doctor, cheerfully. “That’s the Autons seen to. Again. You’d think they’d get a better plan than murderous shop dummies, at least after the first half dozen times.”
The Doctor and Rose were standing on the High in Oxford, surrounded by the shards of the window of Shepherd and Woodward, through which a series of Autons in academic dress had burst. The Doctor was casually leafing through a copy of the University Gazette, wherever that had come from.
“So, where to now?” said Rose, as the Doctor whistled in surprise.
“We’re getting changed and going to Encaenia, to see a dear old friend of mine.”
“Where’s that, then?”
***
Rose was fed up. The benches of the Sheldonian Theatre were unbelievably uncomfortable. Encaenia, apparently, was pointless processions and dull speeches. And the clothes…
“I feel like a schoolgirl” she hissed at the Doctor, before he dashed off to shake the hand of a military-looking bloke called something-Stewart, who had just been made doctor of international law. “At least you got to wear evening dress. And why do you get fancier robes than me?”
He spread wide arms clad in red and French grey. “Because, Rose, I’m the Doctor!”
EDIT:
Explanatory notes for those not familiar with Oxford: Shepherd and Woodward is one of the three academic outfitters. Ede and Ravenscroft, also on the high, is considerably posher, and for that reason would never have plastic manequins. Encaenia is the ceremony, held in the Sheldonian Theatre where honourary degrees are conferred upon a strange mixture of the academically and professionally distinguished. The Sheldonian's seats really are notoriously uncomfortable, to the point that you wonder if they're actually dangerous. Rose is unhappy because she has been forced to wear sub-fusc, explained here, where, as a bonus, there is also a photo of the Doctor of Philosophy gown, which the Doctor is wearing.
“Well,” said the Doctor, cheerfully. “That’s the Autons seen to. Again. You’d think they’d get a better plan than murderous shop dummies, at least after the first half dozen times.”
The Doctor and Rose were standing on the High in Oxford, surrounded by the shards of the window of Shepherd and Woodward, through which a series of Autons in academic dress had burst. The Doctor was casually leafing through a copy of the University Gazette, wherever that had come from.
“So, where to now?” said Rose, as the Doctor whistled in surprise.
“We’re getting changed and going to Encaenia, to see a dear old friend of mine.”
“Where’s that, then?”
***
Rose was fed up. The benches of the Sheldonian Theatre were unbelievably uncomfortable. Encaenia, apparently, was pointless processions and dull speeches. And the clothes…
“I feel like a schoolgirl” she hissed at the Doctor, before he dashed off to shake the hand of a military-looking bloke called something-Stewart, who had just been made doctor of international law. “At least you got to wear evening dress. And why do you get fancier robes than me?”
He spread wide arms clad in red and French grey. “Because, Rose, I’m the Doctor!”
EDIT:
Explanatory notes for those not familiar with Oxford: Shepherd and Woodward is one of the three academic outfitters. Ede and Ravenscroft, also on the high, is considerably posher, and for that reason would never have plastic manequins. Encaenia is the ceremony, held in the Sheldonian Theatre where honourary degrees are conferred upon a strange mixture of the academically and professionally distinguished. The Sheldonian's seats really are notoriously uncomfortable, to the point that you wonder if they're actually dangerous. Rose is unhappy because she has been forced to wear sub-fusc, explained here, where, as a bonus, there is also a photo of the Doctor of Philosophy gown, which the Doctor is wearing.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-17 10:23 am (UTC)