Doctor Who: missing episodes

The BBC is searching for lost episodes of classic television shows, including Doctor Who. Currently 108 episodes of Doctor Who are missing from the BBC archives.

All 108 episodes were sent throughout the world at one point or another and may still be out there somewhere, in your attic, basement or local television station's film archive.

You can see the full list of missing episodes of Doctor Who (as well as missing episodes from other British TV shows such as Hancock’s Half Hour, A for Andromeda, etc.) at:

http://www.missing-episodes.com

If you think you may have a missing episode as a 16mm print or a copy in another format (8mm off-air or videotape), or have any information about these episodes, please contact the BBC by sending an email to:

info@restoration-team.co.uk

There is further information at:

http://www.restoration-team.co.uk/

LIST OF MISSING EPISODES
From the story Marco Polo (A.K.A. (Doctor Who and) The Journey to Cathay)
(episode 1) The Roof of the World
(episode 2) The Singing Sands
(episode 3) Five Hundred Eyes
(episode 4) The Wall of Lies
(episode 5) Rider from Shang-Tu
(episode 6) Mighty Kublai Khan
(episode 7) Assassin at Peking

From the story The Reign of Terror
(episode 4) The Tyrant of France
(episode 5) A Bargain of Necessity

From the story The Crusade
(episode 2) The Knight of Jaffa
(episode 4) The War-Lords
(In addition, the surviving print of episode 1 The Lion is damaged)

From the story Galaxy 4
(episode 1) Four Hundred Dawns
(episode 2) Trap of Steel
(episode 3) Airlock
(episode 4) The Exploding Planet

Mission to the Unknown (a single-episode story)
(a.k.a. Dalek Cutaway)

From the story The Myth Makers
(episode 1) Temple of Secrets
(episode 2) Small Prophet Quick Return
(episode 3) Death of a Spy
(episode 4) Horse of Destruction

From the story The Dalek Masterplan
(episode 1) The Nightmare Begins
(episode 3) Devil’s Planet,
(episode 4) The Traitors
(episode 6) Coronas of the Sun
(episode 7) The Feast of Steven
(episode 8) Volcano
(episode 9) Golden Death
(episode 11) The Abandoned Planet
(episode 12) Destruction of Time

From the story The Massacre
(episode 1) War of God
(episode 2) The Sea Beggar
(episode 3) Priest of Death
(episode 4) Bell of Doom

From the story The Celestial Toymaker
(episode 1) The Celestial Toyroom
(episode 2) The Hall of Dolls
(episode 3) The Dancing Floor

From the story The Savages
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

From the story The Smugglers
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

The Tenth Planet
Part 4 (features the first ever regeneration from William Hartnell into Patrick Troughton)

The Power of the Daleks
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

From the story The Highlanders
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

From the story The Underwater Menace
Part 1
Part 2
Part 4

From the story The Moonbase
Part 1
Part 3

From the story The Macra Terror
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

From the story The Faceless Ones
Part 2
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
(In addition, the surviving print of Part 3 is damaged)

The Evil of the Daleks
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7

From the story The Abominable Snowmen
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

From the story The Ice Warriors
Part 2
Part 3

From the story The Enemy of the World
Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

From the story The Web of Fear
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

Fury from the Deep
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

The Wheel in Space
Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
Part 5

The Invasion
Part 1
Part 4

The Space Pirates
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

In addition, color copies of the following episodes are sought:

The Ambassadors of Death
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 6
Part 7

The Mind of Evil
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

Planet of the Daleks
Part 3

Invasion of the Dinosaurs
Part 1

Platitudes from a cat

This world is a strange place and there are only two kinds of people. There are those who spend their entire lives trying to find the meaning of life and make a sense out of this world; and then the others who spend their lives without any struggle for the truth.

I have spent my time trying to discover what this world has to offer and whats it all about. A few months back I was sitting in the window pane looking outside the apartment, when it occurred to me like an epiphany, the nature of the things.

I noticed a bug flying outside the window, next to a still metal railing. Across the pool, the trees were waving in the wind, the water in the pool was struggling with some humans in it. This is wen I realized that there are only two kinds of things in this world: The ones that move, and the ones that try to move.

After discovering that I felt enlightened. I wanted to spread the truth; spread what I have found, and share it with rest of the felinity. So I started planning about it. I realized that I needed to prove my hypothesis with some kind of tangible proof, if I wanted myself to be taken seriously. I could however, develop a mystical personality and declare myself god, and then automatically everyone would take me seriouslym I thought. I would have a trident, I said to myself, and I will go enforcing my views on everyone. My roommate (who happens to be a man), looked at me as if he didnt care, and said "meow ...".

OOOO!!! I hate when he does that. Sometimes, I think that he doesnt even consider me a sentient being. But the harm is his. I want to teach him a lesson. How about I sit on his chest while he sleeps? This will definitely put some pressure on his heart, which will then cause his brain to stir a nightmare in his sleep. If that doesnt teach him a lesson, I will definitely pee in his closet. Hell, I'll do it anyways. He wouldnt notice, and think of the stench as the smell of plastic cover for a book. Imbecile has no sense of smell.
Sometimes, I want to make it clear to everyone that I am on my own clock. And that means that I do whatever I want, whenever I want, and however I want it. This is it! From today, I will drink water the way I want to drink. I will wet my paws in the bowl and lick them. I will also drink from the bathroom, and I'll let him think that I am not drinking water at all. Then may be he will know who I am!

I wonder sometimes if others know how it feels to be covered in fur from head to tail - not to mention, to have a tail. I have a distant cousin and he has a kink just before his tail ends. He cant balance himself properly, and comes across as a clumsy bastard. I dont think very highly of him. I think he has seen that contempt for him in my eyes as well.

Talking of contempt, I hate canned food. Sometimes I wonder how humans make decisions, and what sort of rationale they use. Take my owner for example, he brings me canned food. Food with pretty labels, and pictures of other felines with content faces. Yesterday, he brought me some gourmet food with rice in it! I am a cat you idiot! I dont eat rice. Stop shopping for my food while you yourself are hungry. Why dont you bring me some "mouse flavored" food next time you are at a walmart. I crave those frozen mice so much. I remember, when i used to feast on mice. Its a fulfilling diet and you sleep well too.

I think I am gonna sleep now. Its an important part of my life.

Doctor Who? A platonic view on Doctor's life, origins and the life span of the Time Lords

Doctor Who?
He is from the planet Gallifrey and he is the last of his race called the "Time Lords". Time Lords were a "Master race", and fought the last of the great wars called the "Time Wars". Gallifreyen's (or the Time Lords) were fighting against an evil Master race called the "Daleks". The Doctor had to destroy Daleks and the Time Lords to end the Time Wars, which threatened to destroy the entire Universe. So the Doctor is the last of the Time Lords.
He goes around traveling to various parts of the Universe in his ship called the TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space). TARDIS is also a time machine. Time Lords as the name implies were masters of time and they had the ability and technology to travel in time. The Doctor's TARDIS looks like a police public phone booth from the 1950s London. The first thing that most people notice on entering TARDIS is that it is much bigger in the inside, since the outer form exists in a different dimension of space and time than the inner form.
The Doctor is almost 950 years old. Being a Time Lord, when his body is about to die, The Doctor is able to regenerate. The regeneration process regenerates the living tissue in the entire body, essentially replacing the previous one completely. Therefore, the Doctor looks different after each regeneration. The Doctor so far has been regenerated ten times. So as we know it, there are 10 different doctors but essentially they all share same memories and knowledge. The regenerated personality may be different to some extent than the previous one.

The Doctor and his seemingly infinite knowledge
The Doctor seems to know everything. He always has some idea what is going to happen arguably, on the least, he can sense trouble. He travels in time and space saving the universe every second of his life. For some unexplained reason the TARDIS always knows where to go (Past, present, future, and precise points in space).
So the Doctor shows up, defeats the bad guys and he is able to save the universe.
How he knows where to go is sometimes explained in the story and sometimes it is not. However, it is agreeable that "the doctor has one constant companion and that is death" (new 1st season, episode: "ROSE").

I have come up with a theory that may explain how the Doctor knows what are the most critical events in the life of Universe that will determine the path in the future and how events should be, so that the "polarity of the flow of protons" is not "reversed" in the Universe (meaning, the time lines dont run into paradox, destroying everything).

Hypothesis
Hypothesis 1:The Doctor is a re-incarnation of himself. He has led a life, and after many regenerations have finally died, only to be reincarnated as himself. So now, even though he may not remember it precisely, he always have a hint about what his actions should be.

This is almost as even though he can travel in time and space but yet has a destiny. All his actions are defined through the prism of predestination. The Doctor is among gods, but not really a god. The Doctor is much like a godly character in Franz Kafka's stories who are gods but are bound by the responsibilities of cyclic and redundant actions of looking after a system; only, the Doctor's system spans all time and space.

Hypothesis 2: Time Lords' have been around before the big bang or they have the knowledge that pre-dates the Big Bang..
This may be the only way they can go back and forth in time. The Big Bang marks a reference point to travel in time.

(to be contd. )

Flow my tears - by Dowland

Flow, my tears, fall from your springs!
Exiled for ever, let me mourn;
Where night's black bird her sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorn.
Down vain lights, shine you no more!
No nights are dark enough for those
That in despair their lost fortunes deplore.
Light doth but shame disclose.
Never may my woes be relieved,
Since pity is fled;
And tears and sighs and groans my weary days
Of all joys have deprived.
From the highest spire of contentment
My fortune is thrown;
And fear and grief and pain for my deserts
Are my hopes, since hope is gone.
Hark! you shadows that in darkness dwell,
Learn to contemn light
Happy, happy they that in hell
Feel not the world's despite.

Wine does not have its own color
Wine checks and accounts herself
Those who are wise,
Wine increases their wisdom
Those who are dumb,
Wine fucks em up

The following post is part of the character development of the protagonist in the novel I am planning to write. I know it has runons, fragments, and typos but thats what the protagonist is supposed to be. He is the Harry Haller of this day.

Demons

aaaaaFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK........

I am frustrated of my own existence. I am prone to errors that I have always agreed to but I had never thought that my capacity for self-destruction is swift and blind of my previous struggles. I stand here in the sand knees deep, and yet reluctant to move. I picked my own poison years ago as the prophecy goes. I am a victim of my own ambitions, and my doom is eminent. I am a failed experiment of the nature set somewhere in the chain of evolution; and not fit for survival. I console myself with white lies – no I its not the respect for humanity or atleast that is not what determines my actions – its my fears.
I realize my deprivations now. I remember innocent wishes of that child – never fulfilled. I do not remember my childhood. No major events happened. I just grew up; spun into motion one day and I promised myself that I will curtail my deficiencies and realize my unfulfilled wishes. I succumb to those desires today. Do not mistake me for a hero of the tragedy; Nobel stature is not my thing. I have set myself in motion for the tragic fall. So hollow are my foundations that knowing what lies ahead, I have chosen the forbidden path. I regret every moment that I am living. All my struggle, all my hard work will mean nothing.

Hassan the potter - by N.M rashid

Jahanzad, down in the street before your door
Here I am, burnt-out Hasan the Potter
This morning in the bazaar when I saw you
At old Yusuf the perfumer’s shop
In your glance was that brilliance
I’ve longed for, wandering nine years in madness
During that time
I never looked back
At my ailing pots -
Pots formed by my deft hands,
Lifeless creatures of clay, color, oilglaze
They whispered:
“Where is Hasan the Potter now?
He left us, his own creations
He created us, then turned away like the gods!”

Jahanzad, nine years passed for me
As time would pass in a buried city;
Clay in the clay-vats
With its fragrance that used to ravish me
Lay stone-hard
Flagon and flask, jug and cup, candlestick, vase
Props of my trivial life, of my art
Lay broken
I myself, Hasan the Potter, mud-mired, dusty-haired, naked
Besied my wheel, hair disheveled, head on knees
Like some grieving demigod, from fantasized
Clay-and-nothing I molded pliant pots out of dreams.

Jahanzad, nine years ago
You were a child, but you knew
That I, Hasan the Potter
Had seen in your talisman eyes, your sky-warming eyes
Brilliance
Which made my body and soul an open road
For cloud and moon

Janhanzad, the dream-colored Baghdad night
That bank of River Tigris
That boat, the boatman’s closed eyes
For a worn-out, grief-burdened potter
One night was the charged amber
His static being clings to, even now.
His soul, his shape
But that night’s flavor was a river-wave in which
Hasan the Potter sank and has not come up.

Jahanzad, in those days, day after day
That ill-starred woman came
When she saw me by the wheel, mud-mired, head on knees
She shook me by the shoulders -
(that wheel which had been, year after year, my life sole prop!)
she shook me by the shoulders:
“Hasan, look at your desolate house
how will the children’s hollow stomachs be filled?
Love-struck Hasan
Love is a rich man’s game
Hasan, look around at your house!”

In my ears this mournful voice was like
A call to a drowning man in whirlpool.
Those heaps of tears were flower-beds, no doubt
But I, Hasan the Potter, lived among ruins
In a fantasy-city where not
A voice, a movement
A flying bird’s shadow
Not a trace of my life existed.

Jahanzad, here now in you street
Her in the cold-colored darkness of night
I stand before your door
Head and hair disordered
From the window those spell-drowned talisman eyes
Flance at me once again
Time, Jahanzad, it the wheel on which like flagon and flask, cup,
candlestick, vase
Humans are made and unmade
I am a human but
Those nine years that passed in the mold of grief!
Hasan the Potter is now a dust-mound without
Even a hint of moisture.

Jahanzad, this morning in the bazaar
At Yusuf the Perfumer’s shop, your eyes
Spoke once again
Their brilliant mischief
Calls forth again in the dust-mound a quiver of wetness
Perhaps to turn the dust to clay
Who knows the scope of longing, Jahanzad, but
If you want, I go back to being
That potter whose pots
Were the pride of every house and street, city and town
Whose pots shone in the homes of rich and poor
Who knows the scope of longing, Jahanzad, but
If you want, I will go back to my forsaken pots
To the dried-out vats of clay-and-nothing
To the props of my life, my art
So from this clay-and-nothing, color and oil glaze, I
Can again strike sparks
That light up the ruins of hearts.

[A Translation from Urdu language]

Pink Floys'a Bike - from the album Piper at the Gates of Dawn

I've got a bike.
You can ride it if you like.
It's got a basket, a bell that rings,
and things to make it look good.
I'd give it to you if I could, but I borrowed it.
You're the kind of girl that fits in with my world.
I'll give you anything, everything, if you want things.
I've got a cloak, it's a bit of a joke.
There's a tear up the front,
it's red and black,
I've had it for months.
If you think it could look good then I guess it should.
You're the kind of girl that fits in with my world
I'll give you anything, everything, if you want things
I know a mouse and he hasn't got a house.
I don't know why I call him Gerald.
He's getting rather old but he's a good mouse.
You're the kind of girl that fits in with my world.
I'll give you anything, everything, if you want things.
I've got a clan of gingerbread men.
Here a man, there a man, lots of gingerbread men.
Take a couple if you wish, they're on the dish.
You're the kind of girl that fits in with my world.
I'll give you anything, everything, if you want things
I know a room of musical tunes.
Some rhyme, some ching, most of them are clockwork.
Let's go into the other room and make them work.

She smells like butterflies.

Earth and Water and fueling leaves

After a while I write on the stones left behind by the river that once flowed here. I gather my thoughts like leaves on a track in an autumn evening; trying not to step on the noisy notes and not distract the dead river which lays next to them.

The wind blows twirling and swirling the leaves in circles rotating around the axis of a void, and wind. It could have been a storm in a teacup, if Shakespeare was right, and this whole a one big play.

Enough said of creepy leaves; of winds that go round and round; and of the dead river. What concerns us is not the stones but the writings on them, rightly. Arcs of varied angles subtend from rock to rock. The hard earth is breached with lines parallel, which never meet, and intermingled circles which forms stars if looked upon with not much attention.

These stars shine and brighten up the night; not as a moon of joy, but as if one was to float on a piece of straw in a mighty river; hanging on to the last strings of hope.

But its all grey - the stones are grey. My autumn - the hallucination of my indulgence is of concrete. And why would it not be?

I fell in love with Medusa.
I turned back and saw behind the shadow;
towards the crisp whispers of stepped on leaves
howling in the winds of silent seas (of my dead river that is).

I gave her my leaves, my river; gave her an archaic smile, as the world turned to stone.
Now, I sit scratching my memories on these well rounded stones. My arcs are wide, and they reach from stone to stone like a bridge back to myself.

The Cat in the last post

Don't feel pity for a scary looking kity!
it may look clean but underneath its gritty.
Who conspired to kill me,
this kitty,
is chairperson of that committee.

Vini vidi vinci or I am not afraid of you Mr. Bigglesworth

I spotted a cat who was minding his own business; you know being arrogant and stuff.

I was able to convince him for an interview, but he wouldn't answer any questions.


Started making faces at me.

A second before he attacked me.

San Diego Dec 06 - Jan 07 Bay Area

San Diego Dec 06 - Jan 07

blank

"I have said everything and I have nothing more to say." This is the first thought that surfaced in my head when I opened the blogger today. I have been trying to write something for a few days now, but invain are my tries. As always the reason are the scattered thoughts. I have not been able to pin point an idea to write about.
Altough I am not interested in outlining the underlaying psychological foundations of scattered thoughts, but I will say that there has been a lot going on. My blog is two years old now. So there are two years of transition of my thoughts in bits. May be I will delete them one day.

Mistress Platitude

After starring at the screen for 35 minutes, i have decided not to write about her. Its not because of some moral dilemma, but for a simple reason, that I have not been able to focus on any particular point; something that explains and builds a complete theory.
I wanted to write about her; something that would sum up her personality in a few lines. But, I guess I am not sure myself and she is still shrouded in some mystery. Mystery, not as in some mythological beauty, but more of a boring platitude. I'll see if I can find out what she wants the next time we meet.

A dog named Fire

If I ever pet a dog
Ill name him fire
after his personality
and not as a
satire.

He'll go out to hunt
do various stunts
and even jump
through a ring of fire.

He will bark
at the shadows
in the dark
and will rescue your ass
in case of a fire.

When you will go blind
and will need a K9
and wonder if he is for hire?
I will be happy
(it is my desire)
to tell you to go
and set yourself on fire.