Ask Barbara Wright (or Chesterton, if you prefer)

Anonymous asked: Not only do I like your blog (haha I found it) but I also am OBSESSED with you secretly. Ok here we go.. I got this idea from a Tumblr spam I got once lol.. I think you like me too and you were always too shy to admit it :3 go to crushmatches(dót)com (wtf it wont let me link regular) and make an account there. Then look up the profile 'gottagetme19' (me obviously) I left body pictures.. if you can guess who I am hit me up and we'll hang soon. You need a C C but its free

I’m terribly sorry, Anon, but even from the perspective of a person living in 1965, this is a markedly unsophisticated effort.

If you were one of my pupils, I’d resort to the must try harder cliché. (Teachers only use that when there’s really no hope.)

Anonymous asked: Would you want your child to meet the Doctor?

A cautious yes; it would depend entirely on the circumstances. Rule one: no kidnapping.

But assuming everything was safe, and consensual, then I can’t imagine anything nicer.

reversingpolarity asked: What was it like to hear that the war had ended?

The atmosphere was just astonishing – the way everyone around, all the adults, seemed to suddenly become slightly mad and unpredictable. It was hugely exciting.

I had no real idea of the complexity of it, or what must have been going through most of their heads. I mean, I just had a child’s sense of what it all meant. But even so, all of us, the children, understood that everything was suddenly different, that it was a very significant day. People were surging around in the streets and shops, climbing up lamp-posts, drinking, singing … there were lots of drunk people. My cousin Edwin was drunk. He’s the same age as me. Someone gave him beer, and he thought he was very much the thing, and I thought it was very unfair, until he was sick in our garden. Everybody was milling around everywhere, in and out of each other’s houses.

I remember a lot of excitement, a lot of noise and in the evening, light. Everyone lit up everything they could when night fell: houses, shops, cars, torches in the gardens. We’d had blackouts for so long that that alone was spectacular. I stood and looked out the window for hours after I was supposed to be in bed, watching all the people wandering around in our street. My parents kept looking in on me, and every time I thought they’d be cross and bundle me into my bed, but they didn’t; they just let me look.

Anonymous asked: All hail Yetexa! false Priestess! You oppose sacrifices when the Gods demand it, I doubt you would do it of your own will. However, all I wish is for you to listen to me. Remember your journey to our great civilization. You tried and failed to change us. You lost, Barbara. That is all the revenge I require. What I want however is simply to get out of this weird temporal limbo which allows me to contact you from centuries away. Some help, please?

Well … that’s quite reasonable, I suppose. *lowers knife*

But I don’t think I can help you directly. Why not head into the wilderness and see if you can look out Autloc? He’s very good at that sort of thing. Perhaps helping you will distract him from the misery of having lost his faith.

Failing that, if you’re really stuck here, what about starting “Ask Tlotoxl”?

Anonymous asked: I am not anon. My name is Tlotoxl.

*reaches for sacrificial kitchen knife*

Anonymous asked: An Aztec high priest who dislikes sacrifices, my my, I have seen it all... Without sacrifices, that civilization would have torn itself apart.

Yes, I learned all the necessary lessons rather painfully at the time, thank you, Anon.

And - just to ensure it’s perfectly clear - I’m not really an Aztec high priest.

Anonymous asked: Did you ever go to another world and try to sacrifice the Doctor, or was it just a doppelganger?

No, definitely not me. I’m not very keen on seeing anyone sacrificed, regardless of circumstances.

lady-sci-fi asked: Did you ever try to impress Ian during your travels? Did it ever go wrong?

I did occasionally try to pretend I was more au fait with scientific subjects than I’ve ever really been. It never worked. He and Susan used to have tiresome long conversations about science all the time, especially biology for some reason, and I tended to drift off a little because I’m not terribly interested in the subtleties of alien taxonomy. And once, I sort of snapped back into focus as they were talking about the life cycle of Earth crickets, and I listened for a moment and then for some reason said “But when do they turn into butterflies?” (I know. I know. I don’t know why I said it.)

Ian wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, for longer than I care to remember. The worst part was the way he kept saying, “But Barbara, you’re thirty years old!” in a sort of marvelling voice. And when we got back, he bought me one of those little Observer’s nature guides.

Anonymous asked: No, I'm just hugging lots of people.

Ah. That’s very public-spirited of you.

Anonymous asked: *Hugs*

Oh … Have we met?