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Jan. 7th, 2009

From the Diary of Professor Bernice Summerfield

Dear Diary,

I think I've finally gone crackers. Apparently traveling through time and space in a blue box, being tortured by nazis, fighting daleks and cybermen, being imprisoned more times on more different worlds than I can even begin to name -- that's all well and fine. What did it take to push me over the edge? A divorce and a bloody magical island. Pathetic.

Now, dearest diary, you may be wondering why I feel that I've lost my mind. In a nutshell, I've done nothing since I arrived but drink, bitch about the situation, drink some more, sleep with everyone who isn't nailed down, and drink. That's not me! You know better than anyone that I am not this person. I mean, sure. I've been known to enjoy a bit of booze every now and again. (note: yes, yes. I know.) And I've never been averse to taking a lover here and there. (note: don't you say a word.) But getting shitfaced on a regular basis while initiating threesomes? I haven't done that kind of thing since the academy! Bloody hell.

Oh, and did I mention I woke up to find two crates of bloody fantastic gin just sitting here in my hut? It would seem this sodding bastard of an island is the worst kind of enabler imaginable. Or maybe the best kind. I haven't decided yet.

Goddess, I don't know what I'm doing anymore. It isn't that I'm not enjoying myself because...I really am. I mean I really, really am. But should I be? Should I just stop worrying about the fact that I'm trapped here for no reason I can determine, at the whim of mysterious jailers, and could disappear at any moment with no memory of any of this having ever happened? It seems pretty clear that's exactly what the island wants me to do. Drink and shag my way to complacency. I suppose I have to decide what a better choice would be. I doubt sobriety and chastity would help my situation any. ( note: it certainly wouldn't help the mood of my fellow inhabitants, that's for damned sure.)

If only Wolsey could talk, I'm sure he's have some excellent advice for me. Or maybe he'd just complain about the quality of fish I've been providing for him. Hard to say, really.

Entry Ends



smile with cap
Bernice Summerfield

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