Parce que le jeudi, c'est raviolis

Sur une idée de Chiffonnette, la seule, l'unique.

 

They raced for the cover of the wood as the storm finally broke again and the wind swirled icy rain around them. They reached the tree line breathless, the Doctor's hair plastered to his forehead.

Rose giggled at him. 'Why can't you ever take us somewhere nice and warm ?'

'Hey!' The Doctor looked indignant. 'I took you to New Earth! Apple grass, remember ?'

'Yeah! Not exactly a relaxing break, though, being taken over..."

'The sign of a good holiday!' He flicked the water from his fringe. 'Anyway, now I've brought you to a nice wood. A nice wet wood.'

'A nice wet, dark wood.'

'Yes.' The Doctor peered into the gloom. 'Actually it's more tulgy than wet. Yes. Definitely a tulgy wood.' He set off down the leaf-strewn path. 'Lovely word "tulgy". Doesn't get enough use. Very good for describing woods... And puddings. I've had some wonderfully tulgy puddings in my time.'

Rose hurried to catch him up. 'Tulgy puddings ? What sort of restaurants have you been eating in ?'

'You've never had a tulgy pudding ? Oh, you haven't lived.'

                                 Mike Tucker,The Nightmare of Black Island, BBC Books, 2006

Rose et le Docteur, forever and a book. Précisons qu'ils ont cette conversation lexicale et linguistique alors qu'ils viennent de découvrir qu'un monstre terrifiant se terre sur la côte d'un petit village gallois. I love them.