The TARDIS had outgrown its jam jar and had been transferred to a casserole dish. This was more hygienic than it sounded because Rose had never cooked a casserole in her life. The dish had been an overly optimistic gift from Jackie.

"Put that sense of adventure to good use."

Rose smiles and looks at her desk, and Gwen follows her eyes, sees Rose’s hands spread wide on well-worn books, her fingers scratching at the backs of volumes older than the two of them put together. She’d never noticed before, but Rose is young, younger than she’d thought, younger than Gwen even.

"I don't know. A good night's sleep? An alien invasion tomorrow? Good chips on the weekend?

“Thanks for coming,” the woman says. “Welcome to tonight’s meeting of the Donna Noble Society.”

“Yeah. There. Another second just went past, and another, and another. That’s time travel, in a way.”

The blue suit, she says firmly, must go.

She wonders if he'll ever get better at saying it. Maybe life will be kind. [Journey's End]