"SAWBONES HEX" AND THE TWITTER OF JOY

You know, I promised myself that I wasn’t going to do any more “Doctor Who” related blog postings any more. After all, I completely understand how one person’s obsessive interest can leave another person feeling totally cold and bored. Once upon a time, for example, I had an acquaintance who used to occasionally join me and my friends for a drink in the pub. Now, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that at all, obviously, except for the fact that he was a food hall manager, I think for M&S, who was completely obsessed with his job. He loved it so much that he would spend hours and hours telling you all about his day and, in the run up to Christmas, that could take an awful lot of telling.

Now, I’ve always had a soft spot for enthusiasts of every hue, and I generally believe (as long as it’s totally legal and above board and doesn’t harm anybody else) that it’s totally marvellous that someone gets enjoyment out of whatever it is that they are interested in, be it football, trainspotting, a sometimes slightly tatty and frowned upon children’s TV show, or even, unusual as it may seem, their job. In fact there’s something rather admirable in the fact that someone really could be that enthusiastic about the work they did, after all it does seem to be a rather rare thing these days for those of us in the great mass of humanity just trying to make ends meet.

However, occasionally the problem with the obsessive enthusiast is that they sometimes fail to quite grasp the fact that other people might not be quite as interested in these things as they are, and, no matter how they may try to persuade people otherwise, they are unlikely to alter anyone else’s minds to the joy they find in something that bores other people to tears. I suspect that this is why certain door-to-door religious zealots find so many being slammed in their faces. Most people are quite happy for people to practice whatever beliefs they choose to as long as they don’t feel that they are expected to join in with them. Sadly this doesn’t quite square with the teachings of those religions to go out and spread the word, which makes it a very difficult circle to square.

Naturally, as with most things, there are exceptions. An enthusiastic teacher can light a fire in the young minds they teach which is kindled by their own joy in the subject, and sometimes someone just being so interested in a topic can make someone go away and think about it some more. If someone tells me that a particular holiday destination or type of car is rather fantastic, then I am at least going to think about it, and if I find out that I agree with them I may very well find myself enjoying a whole new place or driving a completely different car than I ever expected to be. These things are the kinds of things which help our world to turn a little more smoothly, after all, if one of your neighbours tells you they know of a good, reliable plumber, you do tend to listen.

“So, what’s all this got to do with “Doctor Who” then?” I hear you wondering. Well, it’s all to do with the tiniest of incidents which I know isn’t really likely to impress anybody else at all, but, just for the slightest moment, sent the tiniest shiver of a thrill through this old body of mine.

I’ve told you before about my singular lack of understanding of TwitWorld and how I really can’t find a way to make it “work” for me, managing to acquire a staggering four (count ’em) “followers” in around six months of lurking on the peripherals a bit like the bloke arriving at the wedding two days after his girlfriend left him and who doesn’t really know anyone else who is sitting at his table, and has to keep on explaining who the “missing” person from the seat next to him actually is…

Long story.

I suppose I’ve turned into a bit of a spectator really, although, much like the occasional football spectator at the local game, I will occasionally unwisely bellow out something a bit embarrassing that nobody else understands just because I think it’s funny. I’m usually immediately ashamed of myself because I just know that everyone else in the crowd is quietly wondering who that idiot is, and when that idiot turns out to be you, then things can get very weird, especially if you suffer from the kind of public self-consciousness that I do. Oh yes, it’s easy enough to rant and rave when you’re safely in your webworld (actually, it isn’t…), but to go out in public and say these things, well, that’s a completely different ball game. I knew that footballing analogy was going to lead somewhere…

Anyway, I “follow” Colin Baker (@SawbonesHex), the occasionally much-maligned Dr. Who number six (“Sawbones Hex” = “Doctor Six”), and, incidentally, another chap who loved his job. In fact he was having such a good time it would seem that they chose to get rid of him. It’s a bit of a shame really as he comes across as being a totally enthusiastic and lovable fellow really, although few seem to forgive him the “clownish” outfit he wore which really wasn’t his fault. I once wrote him a fan letter, possibly the only one I ever wrote, in support of him, shortly after I found out that he was leaving, and he was kind enough to reply eventually, around eighteen months later, because, even though the bag of mail it was in had gone astray, and he was no longer playing the part, he wanted to reply to all of those letters when they showed up.

Bit of a gent when it comes to his fans is our Colin.

I felt that I got to “know” him rather well a few months ago (although that’s obviously poppycock – he doesn’t know me from Adam…) when I read both volumes of his collected articles written for his regular column for the Bucks Free Press when they were published last year, and I now even go and read them weekly online, despite having very few connections with that part of the world. They made pretty good reading I thought, as I have a slight touch of the curmudgeon about me myself, and, in many ways, those, alongside my Alan Coren books and the contributions of my friend Andy, were what I used to teach myself how to do this blogging mularkey.

Anyway, after a few months of making an ass of myself with the occasional inane comment, the old Sawbones actually responded to one of my silly little Tweets, and, just for a few moments, I was the happiest I can remember being in quite some time.

Small things, but sometimes they mean everything.