Harry Versus Who

Every couple of years I read the Harry Potter series. I love them, I know them inside out, my guilty pleasure is rereading and these books are submersive. I usually do it when I’m down. They are a healthy form of escape. Well, healthier than hard drugs or liquor.

I’m not doing it at the moment. At the moment I’m half way through a Doctor Who box set. I’m not low, I’m not running away but I confess I’m addicted. Defeating monsters, saving the universe, running around with a guy who can change his face…what more could one want?

Is TV worse than books? TV is more passive. And as much as I despise computer games they are more intellectually engaging than both books and TV. My Dad never really read (except Sherlock Holmes, which I think took him my entire childhood) and used to say it was a waste of real life. My Mum, on the other hand reads prolifically and took us to the library every week. It was more important that we read than we ate. I was forgiven for being a fussy eater but to not read would have been intolerable.

We watched telly too. I remember watching the original Doctor Who via the metallic teapot as I was too scared to look at the screen. I loved Tom Baker’s Doctor so much that years later in the 90s Who Hiatus I went as him, long scarfed and curly wigged, to a ‘Come as Who You’d Like to Be’ party.

I think it’s both TV and books that have urged me to write. Often when I think of what influences my writing it is films and TV more than books. But books gave me that innate understanding of grammar, of spelling, of story.

The problem with my addictions is that when I am in the midst of them, when I come up for air, reality is grey. I don’t want emails and washing up and Mondays. I want magic and wonder and happy endings.

Can you think of anything more exciting, more wonderful than hearing that wheeze of the Tardis? The possibilities, the adventures? The only thing better would be a letter in green ink from Hogwarts.

PS Five pounds shredded. Oh yes!