FIRST of all let me say I’m sorry – I know I’ve been away and I promise not to go away for so long again.
Where have I been? Well, owing to work stuff and holidays, I just have not had the time to sit down in front of a computer screen – it’s been mental.
But during my enforced absence I have had time to think about lots of things, but specifically sci-fi holidays and – watch out Branson – they just don’t mix.
You see, it sounds very attractive to be whisked away to the moons of Jupiter for a weekend on a hi-tech spaceship, but something inevitably goes tits up.
Maybe the attractions or crew turn into unstoppable killing machines (Westworld, Jurassic Park), maybe the whole thing is part of some conspiracy to take over the world (Futureworld), maybe a passenger will be possessed (Midnight) or maybe the computer decides that the humans running around the ship have become pesky irritations … THAT MUST BE ERASED (ermm, Airplane 2).
Of course, I’m sure that the vast majority of trips on the new Spaceplane will be trouble free, but it would be just my luck to book in for the one where all of the above happens at once.
Still, I could be the plucky, debonair hero who foils the cyborg plot with bad jokes and a spatula.
But I could also be the cannon fodder, wiped out in the first few minutes, becomes an alien host kind of character, whose survival plan is to scream and wet his pants.
One thing for sure – I won’t be wearing a red shirt for my journey into space.
On my recent holiday (Cornwall since you ask, very nice) I came across some sci fi in the most unexpected of places – Land’s End – and experienced my own version of sci-fi holiday disasters.
They were hosting a Doctor Who exhibition which we enjoyed, especially my son, Izaak, who is a big Who fan. We got to meet a Cyberman, Sontarans and Weeping Angels, to name but three.
So I will have to file it alongside their refusal to go to Nasa when we visited Florida in 2003.