The grandson came for the summer.

Three weeks with an eight-year-old.  I’m still bloody exhausted, but we squeezed every bit of joy from it.

We are all geeks here. It’s wall-to-wall Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, (before she-who-must-not-be-named went off the deep end). We’ve had Pokémon, Magic the Gathering, Dungeons and Dragons, Disney, Witchy, and Slaying all over the shop and that’s before we’ve mentioned to the Musicals, the Book Geekery and all those stories.

My particular love is Doctor Who.

I’ve been asking for a few years if the grandson can watch the Doctor only to be told that it’s too scary. I explain that my girl was but 6 when she started to watch, but they all point at her and raise an eyebrow as if to prove a point.

We started with the new Doctor as there is simply so much love; Space Babies, dance routines, Bridgerton, oh my days.

Watching my wee man fall in love with the Doctor was a delight. Cwtched in close, pillow at the ready for the scary bits, we ploughed through that series and the specials, then went back to the 11^th Doctor – still fun but a bit more scary.

A side-quest over to the magnificent The Sarah-Jane Mysteries offered a variation on the theme before we headed down to Cardiff, scouting locations for crashing snowmen, and cybermat Department stores.

Afternoons for a worn-out Granny were spent travelling the Whoniverse with a boy by my side, waving the newly purchased sonic screwdriver for all we were worth.

‘This will be your first Doctor,’ I explain with all the requisite solemnity such introductions demand.

‘Who was your first Doctor, Granny?’

Then much searching on BBC iPlayer for Tom Baker and laughable monsters.

I know it’s not for everyone. I know you probably think it’s weird. But grannies are supposed to teach you the important things in life and the love of Doctor Who is a life lesson in compassion and joy.

Mostly it’s the joy of sharing it with the lad. Something that is ours to geek out with – and easy Christmas and birthdays while he’s still obsessed with it.

A reach out to fellow geeks saw posters and goodies delivered to his door. And yes, ok, I may have gone a bit mad buying bow ties – what’s a woman to do?

He was eying up my Tardis collection but that was a step too far, I mean I love the bones of him, but come on. So more sneaky online purchases ensued.

What I really love is that at 8, this will be one of his core memeories. He will remember the summer tearing round, looking for monsters and scanning the woman in the librabry with his sonic. He will remember Rory and Amy and that bow ties are always cool, and that you should ‘Always try to be nice, but never fail to be kind.’ (ok thats our next Doctor, but you ge thte point.)

What I need is Tardis of my own – just think of the trouble we could get up to then?

I could be the Doctor- him my wee sidekick, sorry companion. We could bring his baby brother who could smash aliens with his flying kicks –(I know the Doctor doesn’t smash beings but the baby is three and that’s kinda his jam.)

So, titles roll, cue music, and see us all spill out of the Tardis ready to battle a Tunnocks Tea Cake and a can of IronBru – next year we are taking the show on tour – bow ties included.