It’s rare for them to just get a chance to listen to music, out in the sun, the steady back-beat of bass in the air.
It’s ever rarer to get him out of his suit (well, in public anyway) and walking around like a normal bloke, like he couldn’t just breeze on to any stage at the entire festival and be greeted warmly and handed a guitar.
He’s embraced the whole spirit of the thing, two days’ growth and a pair of tacky sunglasses and Rose
…is on her second beer, sprawled out beside him in their folding chairs as they sit beside Stage Three, waiting for the performance to begin.
The Doctor is so excited he can’t sit still, and she’s convinced the aluminum frame in his chair is going to give out any second under the force of his enthusiasm. “They had their roots in punk, y’know — but they changed it, they evolved into a perfect fusion of pop, folk, new wave and punk. They’re geniuses, Rose. I mean, take their first album, This is the Story, and the way their sound began …”
Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, letting the warm sun saturate her, she gropes for his hand. He gives it to her without hesitation, fingers threading between hers, and she squeezes. His barrage of words never slows or pauses.
If she’s being honest, it’s actually quite adorable seeing her Doctor — rock legend and god of punk — turn into a complete fanboy.
A second later he hoots at the top of his lungs and jerks her hand up; she stumbles to her feet alongside him, startled. The band is onstage, and the Doctor ecstatically belts out the lyrics as they start the first song, his feet bobbing up and down as though he might break into a stationary march at any instant:
When I wake up, Yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you
When I go out, yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who walks along with you!