Chris set off down the twisting corridors of the TARDIS. This time there was less urgency to his mission and he took time to open a few of the doors that led off the corridors. Some of them gave on to other, seemingly identical stretches of twisty white, and he was very careful, as befitted the proud owner of the 7th Bristol Scout Pack award for Orienteering 1966, to close them firmly and ignore any temptation to stray from the path. As before, he could remember Romana’s instructions exactly.
Some of the doors led to rooms. There was a cricket pavillion, which somehow actually smelt of new-mown grass and linseed oil. Another door led to a huge empty cinema in which was playing a black and white Lone Ranger film. Chris flinched as he bumped into a large-bosomed usherette. He apologised, only to realise the figure was a cracked dummy wound around, for some reason, with dead Christmas tree lights, with a cabbage for its head, a stuffed parrot on its shoulder and a cleaning lady’s bucket, filled with popcorn, slung over one arm.
He peeked through yet another door to find an enormous room filled with shelves packed with balls of multicoloured wool, a huge plastic pick-and-mix dispenser with jelly babies in every tray, and a pile of entangled yo-yos.