The Willing Suspension of Disbelief

Drama succeeds only when the audience is willing to suspend its disbelief for the period of time in which they lose themselves in the play, yes? Language being what it is, it is surely no coincidence that the drama is called a play.

Dr Who returned to our screens last week, and Mr L and I were delighted. We snuggled down in bed with a  bottle of wine and watched the final episode of the last series while we waited for the new episode to appear on the iPlayer. A jolly good episode it was too. There were Daleks.

Nothing special in that. I have been watching Dr Who if not all my life, at least for most of it. I began with Series 1, Episode 1, when I was 10. I took a few years out when things got dire with the earthbound Third Doctor (Jon Pertwee), but luxuriated in the jellybaby-loving Fourth, and best, of the early doctors Tom Baker… wandered off again in the Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy years… returning to love the newer incarnations.

Next year will see the 50th anniversary of my first Dr Who experience.

There have been many Daleks in that time.

I am not sure why I should lie awake last Saturday night, troubled by the practicalities of being a Dalek. But I did. All these years I have willingly suspended my disbelief but last weekend I was challenged. Inside those Dalek machines are organic beings. Yes?

So how/what/when do they eat/take sustenance?

And how does a Dalek poop?

 

Eh?

Answer me that!

It may be part of the Human condition, that we are willing to suspend disbelief so easily. I could tell you some tales of my innocent interpretations of my ex-husband’s behaviour and my wholesale swallowings of his fairy stories, that’s for sure. And then… and then…

…and then there is the UFO pile. How did I ever come to the greatest suspension of my disbelief …in my ability to whip them all to a finish any time that I felt like putting my mind to it?

After thoroughly reviewing the “storage system” and frogging a number of projects that I knew my heart was not embracing, I am left with 30 unfinished items. Most of these are but barely begun and many of them are large or complex lace projects. There  are many, many months of work in that lot. More than one year, perhaps more than two or even three years. Yet I thought that I could finish them without difficulty and I kept on starting new projects. All that without taking into consideration the projects for which I have patterns and yarn lined up.

There is a completion plan drawn up here – well, not so much a plan but perhaps more of an outline plan of attack for the early stages of clearing the heap. It looks like this at the moment:

Priority: KAL cape

Daily duty: Hexapuffs

Early finishers: Benny, four projects needing finishing processes, Cat Shawl, Lara Hat, 2 half pairs of mittens, pomatomus socks, High Seas

By the end of the year?

 

Not a Blanket

I can report that the Hexapuff count has incremented by four so far, and that there are now ten completed points on the bottom edge of the KAL cape. In addition, seven hundred grams of yarn have been liberated and several pairs of needles returned for use. I also found one finishing needle, one tape measure, and a number of stitch markers.

Dr Who again tonight – I shall take my hexapuff kit to bed with me and knock out a couple more puffs, and I shall be willingly suspending my disbelief both  in finding Dinosaurs on a Spaceship —  and also in my lack of ability to clear twelve UFOs by New Year’s Eve.

My apologies if this post contained a surfeit of double negatives.

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