The Doctor isn't likely to miss a festival, and once he's poked around enough to establish that there isn't something sinister going on behind the scenes of this one (because that's really been the case more often than he cares to count, at least in his experience), he's determined to enjoy this one. He's been in an increasingly cheerful mood lately - a better mood than he's been in since he lost the Ponds, since he started travelling with Clara - and said mood out in full force today.

It seems like he's everywhere at once, from the games - spinning around with a blindfold over his eyes and nearly pinning the nose on the hapless booth attendant - to the food stands - he's had fairy floss from all over the galaxy, you know, but this is much better than the sort found on Vega IX, which tastes vaguely of fish. He shoves his top hat into a bystander's hands as he goes bobbing for apples, ducking his head into the tub and coming up soaking wet.