Next Thursday Morning, ‘Where’ as well as ‘When’, and The Anomaly.

Again, clicking on the tag entitled ‘The Adventurous Time Adventures of Doctor When‘ will take you to a page with all the excerpts, of which today’s is:


The Time Machine was a box, roughly the size of a large wardrobe, made of metal, wires and strangeness. Or at least that’s how it looked to the three toughs, goggle-eyed at the complex systems of knobs, dials, levers and clock faces within. It was a tight fit once they were inside and Doctor When shut the doors behind them, shooing them into a corner where a stray elbow wouldn’t knock their trajectory off course.

‘This may be disorientating,’ the Doctor informed them, pressing, pulling, turning and winding various contraptions with no apparent hesitation. In the next moment they felt very much like that last bit of water in a bathtub, swirling violently through the drain. It seemed to go on forever; it seemed to last a mere eye-blink. Then they were still. ‘We’re here,’ the nonplussed Chrononaut needlessly pointed out.

‘Where, er, I mean when is here?’ Wilburforce asked, uncomfortably squashed behind the legs of a Spaghetti Sister.

‘We’re at precisely 11.03 Thursday morning,’ the Doctor replied.

‘Last Thursday?’ asked the Spaghetti Sister known today as Vermicelli.

‘I’m afraid not,’ corrected Doctor When, leaning over a dial. ‘Which is a shame, because last Thursday was particularly delightful. I would’ve liked to visit it again. But alas! It’s this Thursday coming.’

‘We’ve only travelled forward two days?’ the other sister, Rigatoni, exclaimed bemusedly.

‘Two days, one hour and eighteen minutes, to be precise. Shall we?’ With that, the Chrononaut reached around the others to open the door, and they tumbled out haphazardly.

To find themselves plonked in the middle of a wide, empty field up to their thighs (or Wilburforce’s neck) in wheat. The sun bore down upon them from a painfully blue sky, and in the distance conical green trees bordered the field geometrically.

‘Huh,’ Wilburforce said, wittily. ‘I thought time travel kept you stationary in place, and only time changed.’

‘A common misconception. We travel across time-space, which means that we move freely along all of the four dimensions. Time is only one of them.’

‘So where are we, then?’

‘Somewhere on the Continent, it seems,’ Doctor When looked around them. ‘I’d guess at Southern France.’

‘Don’t you know more specifically than that?’ Vermicelli turned to her employer with a frown. ‘Doesn’t the Time Machine tell you?’

‘I’m afraid the Time Machine only tells time, my dear. If it were a Location Machine, then maybe we’d be in luck. Or a Map Machine, instantly capable of drafting ones position upon arrival,’ the Doctor seemed to lose herself in the thought, dreamily continuing, ‘I’d call it the Cartographoid Spectrometer.’

‘Doctor?’ Wilburforce interrupted her reverie. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Ah, yes!’ Doctor When returned to the Machine, drawing a notepad from a coat pocket. After some furious scribbles, she returned it to her pocket and joined the others once again. ‘The anomaly we’re looking for isn’t far.’

There was a sudden rustling sound coming from the wheat, but Wilburforce ignored it as mere wind. But then he watched the still, distant tree-tops, incongruous with the rustling that surrounded them.

‘Um, I think we might have a probl-‘ but he never finished his sentence. The small man was too busy fending off the small dinosaur that was currently trying to eat his face.


DINOSAURS!  Did you see that coming?  HA!

Anyway.  It’s freakishly cold here, and will likely be -12 C (about 10 F) tomorrow morning when I have to go be outside all day.  Joy!  I may not be capable of posting afterward, dependent upon whether or not my fingers are still attached to me, either frozen off or eaten by a hungry raptor.  Either way, it sort of spells disaster for typing.

Pray for my fingers.

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