The Doctor, staying upright with not so much perfect balance as lunging, swaying endurance, darts from panel to panel of the great central console, throwing switches, turning dials, and quelling a growing chorus of alarming warning noises with intricate volleys of button-pushing. His actions would look exactly like those of a man on the edge of some great catastrophe, if it wasn't for him grinning the whole time.
Despite the chaos, whatever it is he thinks he's doing seems to be having some effect, because the bumping slowly turns into trembling, which eventually fades into the Tardis's usual background hum. The floor stops trying to experience what it's like being a wall, the warning lights flicker off, and the room stills.
The Doctor throws a final switch and steps back with a sweep of his arm that merges on the overdramatic, nearly getting tangled up in some trailing wires. "Here we are, then! Not a bad landing, either, even if I do say so myself."