Is there a doctor in the house?

Call The Doctor! No, not a doctor. The Doctor. Capital T, capital D. I need a TARDIS. Although if he happened to show up in his David Tennant incarnation then I would consider that a rather nice bonus. I have lately realised that I do not belong in the 21st century. I'm an old-fashioned girl and the pace and stresses of this modern life are not suited to my delicate personage. I have therefore concluded that I belong in the 19th Century. Not just any old 19th Century mind, but Jane Austen's. Do you begin to see why I have need of a time machine?

Life was (at least according to Jane) so much simpler then. Yes, I suppose the pressures of marrying into money were huge but no doubt there were a few incurable romantics holding on until they found their perfect partner. There were dances and picnics and fancy clothes. The style of casual dress was flattering to nearly all women. (Again, I am taking my cue from modern TV and film adaptations but I'm sure they did the necessary research! Ahem.) Men were gentlemen and women were ladies (as long as one was mixing in the right circles). Granted, women didn't exactly have the career options available now but who needs a high-flying occupation when there's extensive reading and embroidery to be done. I'm not entirely sure how M.E. would have been regarded in the early 1800s. I expect that I would have been classified as having a weak constitution and sent to Bath to recuperate. Sadly that still seems to be the extent of treatment these days. Apart from the trip to Bath of course. I've never been to Bath. Hmmm. Well no matter, once I get my hands on this TARDIS the world shall be my oyster. Hark! I hear the drone of a police box with an engine...