'The Time I met the Doctor' - part 1

"Did I ever tell you of the time I met the Doctor?"

My young lady friend repositions herself on the couch next to me, tossing her long red hair behind her before asking, "Doctor Who?"

I grin instinctively. "Ah, the eternal question." She punches me lightly on the shoulder in something of a 'you know what I mean get on with it' sort of way. "From what I was told it was just 'the Doctor'."

"Something of the definite article then?"

"Apparently."

"I've heard stranger names. Anyway, no, I don't believe you have told me this story."

"Shall I?"

"Please do."

"Right then. Cast your mind back to a time before we'd met, back when I was still in college about three or four years ago. I am younger, my hair is longer and slightly more plentiful. It's not all that long after the crumbling of my relationship with Heather, so my attitude towards the fairer sex is not always that fair and is a notch more hormonal than now."

"Is this frightening picture you paint germane to the story I'm about to hear?"

"Could be. Or I could be setting the mood. Wait and hear."


It was a particularly rainy day in the autumn of the year. By that point in the school year, it being my final year of college, I had already given up on attending classes and lectures properly. This was, I feel, due to two primary reasons. One was the aforementioned break up with Heather, which damaged me mentally and emotionally for the longest time, and the other was my general lack of enthusiasm for more schooling. I had never been all that fond of school based learning and by this point I was incredibly tired of the whole routine and decided it was time to relax a bit. Luckily for me, I was good friends with Mr. Kirby, the older gentleman that ran the computer system at the college. He knew of what I was capable, he had an idea where my knowledge extended, and had trained me enough on what we had that I could pick up the rest. I became his unofficial helper, and then official helper, and later, after he retired, I would replace nearly everything we had in a massive upgrade and be hired as his replacement, which is where I am now. At this point, I had just become his official helper and would take over his duties when he needed a nap or had to attend some meeting or another. I was supposed to be in a journalism class at the time, but instead I was in the computer room, watching the rain pour down while Mr. Kirby had a mid morning nap. The building was mostly empty as few people were venturing out into the rain to get to us. We were located in the same building as the library and were separate from all the classrooms and lecture halls and the like. Therefore, unless someone had some special need to come to us, they weren't braving the storm to reach us.

It was for these reasons that I took special notice of the young lady running towards the building, soaked to the bone. She seemed to be running towards the building less because she needed access to the library or computer system, but more because she required getting out of the rain and we were the first opportunity she had for shelter. I also noted her long skirt only because I so infrequently saw women wear such items when they didn't have to and I thought it made her look rather dressy, if wet. I managed to beat her to the doors and held one open for her. "Oh thank you," she enthused in a very proper sounding English accent, "I got caught out in this storm and got my directions all mixed up and now I'm dripping all over your lobby. I am sorry."

"Minor detail," I informed. "Come in and dry off. I'm not sure if I can get you any towels or anything, but I should be able to get you some coffee to help warm you up. Might keep you from catching cold."

She smiled, warmly and innocently. "You are most kind."

"I try. If you'd come this way, Miss..." I allowed the sentence to trail off inquisitively.

"Waterfield. Victoria Waterfield."

"My name's Thompson, but, please, call me Patrick. I hear 'Mr. Thompson' and I think my father's around."

"In that case, I suppose you'd better call me Victoria then."

"Fair enough. The office is over here." I gave her somewhere to sit and collected a coffee from the machine. She sipped at it and her pretty face twisted slightly at the taste. "It's machine coffee. It's not good, but it's hot."

"It feels good, even if it doesn't taste good. Thanks."

I nodded rather than politely dismiss her thanks again. Despite her sodden state, she was quite pretty. I'm not the best judge of age, but she appeared to be a bit older than I was, in a loose bracket between mid twenties and mid thirties. "Can I ask what brings you here today? I'm going to take a guess and believe you're not from around here originally."

"No, I'm traveling with a pair of friends. We just sort of arrived here."

"On your way to somewhere else?"

"At the moment we don't have a particular destination in mind, we're just traveling."

"I'm sure you see all sorts of interesting things that way."

"Sometimes more than I wish to do. I'd stopped traveling with them for a while and just recently started again. It's familiar and not at the same time."

"I understand the concept you're trying to get across." The phone rang. I excused myself and answered it politely. It was the Dean of the college, Dean Cuthbold. "Thompson," he began once noting it was me speaking to him, "do you have a young woman there with you?"

"I'm only giving her shelter from the rain, I've done nothing wrong." I've had some minor issues with Cuthbold, it's safest to announce innocence straight away.

"No, that's not what I meant. We're looking for a young woman and I was wondering if she may have headed your way."

"A pretty English one?"

"That fits the description given me."

"That's the one. Shall I bring her to you?"

"Please do. Her friends are here waiting for her."

"We'll be right there then. Bye." I hung up. "We're going to need to find something to keep the rain off."

She blinked innocently. "Why?"

"Your friends are looking for you and I can take you to where they are."

"Oh that would be most welcome. It's not that you're bad company, but I do worry about them."

"If you need something to keep the rain off, you can borrow my umbrella." Mr. Kirby had awakened and heard all. He's a man of medium height with a stocky build, dark hair slowly going gray and a sturdy face with lots of character. An unlit pipe sits clamped in his mouth. He doesn't smoke it much, but he finds it comforting to have it around. "I'm not going anywhere for a while so you might as well use it." We thanked him and left. I'm sure he sat down in the chair I'd been in and was back asleep within a minute.


We hurried through the pouring rain, making our way towards the main building. I admit I enjoyed the trip primarily because the umbrella only allowed for so much room for us to be, meaning Victoria had to be somewhat close to me. I liked the proximity, but remained a gentleman and did not try to take advantage of the situation.

We dripped through the hallways to Dean Cuthbold's office. It's a big room, full of books he's never read and paintings he doesn't understand. To be fair, I don't understand the paintings either. My point is that Cuthbold is very into appearances. He likes to impress and is easily impressed. As you might remember, he is a very odd looking fellow with his buggy eyes hidden behind thick black framed glasses, a shiny bald head and sticky out ears. In some ways, he resembles an odd sort of wing nut or a lunatic Mr. Potato Head. Two men, presumably Victoria's friends, stood looking out the large picture window in the office, watching the rain. "Ah, good, you've arrived Thompson." He looked excited. I'd seen the look before; he'd been impressed. "And you've brought along Victrola."

"Victoria," my soggy companion correctly politely.

"Yes of course, so sorry." I am drawn away from Victoria so that I can be spoken to privately. "Her friend is a Doctor of sorts, very high up as far as things go."

"What sort of things?"

"Things." He gestures with his bushy eyebrows and I do my best to look like I understand, but I don't, and I don't particularly care what he means exactly anyway. "While it would be nice to have him stay, it seems unlikely given his nature to travel. Therefore, we must do our best to impress him, so that when he bumps into others of his circle he will speak highly of us and they will be better inclined to visit or want to work here."

"Okay," I say slowly, understanding the concepts he's communicating, but unclear why they're being communicated to me. "So, what do you want me to do about it?"

"I'm putting you in charge of showing them around and impressing them. I shall call Kirby after you leave and arraign you some free time from your duties in the computer area."

"Am I the best choice for this? I mean, I don't impress others all that well."

"Nonsense, you are very impressive. How do you think you've gotten your responsibilities? By impressing Kirby and myself. Besides, you've already met with Victreebel . . ."

"Victoria."

"Yes of course, Victoria. You've met Victoria, so you've already got a friend in the group to work on. That's a start."

"Still, I don't know sir."

"Let's put it like this then: it's an order that you escort them around and impress them with the school."

I sighed. He had that strangely determined look he gets when he's serious. "Yes sir."

"Good then, that's settled." He turned back to the trio, who had reunited whilst we'd talked. "Patrick here will give you a tour of the university and basically be as helpful as possible.

"That's most kind of him," noted the oldest member of the group. "Are you sure that won't interfere with anything you have to do?"

The question was directed to me, but Cuthbold was quick to answer for me. "It's not a problem, don't even worry about it. Just enjoy yourself and look around as much as possible. Have a good time. Here, have some vouchers for the cafeteria. Free lunch."

The eyes of the young man in the group lit up. "Lunch? Aye Doctor, that's no a bad idea there." He spoke with a gentle Scottish accent. As his friends both spoke with English accents, this made him stand out, as did the kilt he wore. One rarely sees men dressed in the Highland manner unless some festival or pageant is going on nearby, so it was a bit unusual for him to be dressed like that, but I still thought it was cool.

"Yes, alright Jamie, we'll go have lunch. It'll give Victoria a chance to dry off and warm up as well, shan't it? If Patrick would direct us to the cafeteria, we'll be off then."

"Certainly. Just follow me." We left the office and headed down the hallway. To be honest, I would have charged the meal to him anyway.