Writer's Notebook

Oliver didn't know what to do. Ever since he'd dared ask for more, his life had been turned into a misery. Now, there was little option left open to him but to beg, steal or borrow. Well, maybe borrow wasn't a good idea. Most people had something against getting regurgitated, borrowed goods back. But now, a new source of provisions was opening himself up to him. It all started when he went to sleep in one of these new-fangled telephone cells. They weren't exactly comfortable but they did, at least, afford him some little respite from the cold and moist London evenings.

The first night he'd been kicked out pretty quickly by a guy who'd threatened to call the police if ever he saw him again. The second night he'd sought out a cell quite a distance away from the first, and actually managed to stay there most of the night, not being disturbed until the infernal contraption started ringing and sent Oliver into flight, fearing that once again the police were onto him. The next night he decided he'd try his luck elsewhere but the cold soon got to him and forced him into desperate measures. This third cell proved to be the strangest of them all. The moment he crept inside, he realised it was far bigger than he'd ever imagined and full of the strangest contraptions. Then, a man entered, and Oliver hid himself in a corner, afraid that once again he'd be summarily evicted. But no, this man didn't evict him, he didn't even notice him. The man, apparently some kind of a doctor, was soon joined by a young woman, and together they pushed a few buttons. Oliver noticed nothing, but after a few minutes they talked about having arrived somewhere and decided to go out exploring. In case anything happened, they were to meet together at eight o'clock the next morning. The moment they left Oliver crept out of his hiding place. He had some ten hours and peeked outside. The landscape that presented itself to his eyes, seemed most strange and, not being as adventurous as the doctor and his companion, he decided to stay inside. He turned to the console in front of him and his eyes feasted themselves on the many buttons that presented themselves. He determined not to touch a single one; who knows what might happen. But temptation soon got the better of him and seeing several buttons that said London, he pressed one, and before he knew he was in the London of 2008.

He had in fact landed at precisely the same spot that the telephone cell had stood. But he recognised nothing because the site had been turned into one of London's biggest and most elegant hotels, and he was in the kitchen, or to be more precise, in the part of the kitchen where the fridge stood. Now, I'm sure you're all aware that a telephone cell would scarcely fit into a kitchen fridge, even if it was no ordinary hotel and no ordinary kitchen. But this cell could squeeze itself into almost any gap, including the smallest fridge space possible. Once Oliver felt certain that it was safe to do so, he opened the door and his eyes fell on all the wonderful goodies that had been prepared for a party that evening. He stared and stared. He'd never seen anything like it, not even back at the warehouse, in the governor's kitchen. In fact, he stared so much, that he almost forget to try anything. But he soon pulled himself together and attacked the contents with gusto, eating a lot and taking cramming all he could into his pockets, which seeing as he was in the magic tardis had now grown quite big.

Now came the greatest problem. In two hours time the doctor would be back and would wonder where his machine had got to. He let his eyes roam over the consul once again, but as he had no idea where he had come from, he had no idea which button to press. Then, he saw the abort button. With a bit of luck that might work. And indeed it did. And what's more, upon his return the doctor and his companion were kind enough to return their still hidden stowaway back where he came from. Now all he needed to do, was to memorise the place where this strange contraption stood, then he could pay a visit every day to the place with all the wonderful goodies. But as we all know, the tardis never stands in the same place for very long, and so Oliver was disappointed in his attempts to revisit the future. Instead, he turned to writing books about his strange adventures with the doctor, and earned himself a fortune, especially once the BBC got hold of his stories and started televising them.