A Little Horse.
It's been very difficult for me to sit down and review The Girl In The Fireplace. Not because I didn't like it. I did. I loved it. I just think I loved it so much that I've lost perspective. On my own blog I'm often left in the position of having to write about something that I've loved utterly and been defeated. Usually I just post a picture of the dvd, the book cover or the cd and let that be the single recommendation, and feedback says that some people like that approach because they know that even if whatever I'm presenting isn't flawless, it's made me feel, so they'll feel too. Really all I wanted to do here is present a photo of the clockwork men, but since you all have seen it, that would be silly.
So I'll just admit defeat, cop out and concur with what everyone else has said, especially Neil and Paul.
This was television programme as statement. Not in the Cathy Come Home sense of illuminating some social problem, but in terms of demonstrating what's possible if enough people love an artistic endevour enough that they simply want to produce and create something built on love and joy. Watching Doctor Who Confidential afterwards, every single crew member from Russell T Davies downwards had a sparkle in their eye and a glow which said that they're all doing something which they never thought they would ever get the chance to do, and we should be very grateful that they're being given the opportunity to do it.