It hasn't changed particularly, luckily for him. Aside from the vaguely musty feeling of disuse that has arisen from the TARDIS's displeasure at being incapacitated for so long, the interior hasn't really changed. There's no reason to mess with perfection, she feels. (There may be a few more curtains around, but that's probably the TARDIS's idea of a joke. Probably.)

And she comes strolling into the TARDIS, tossing her jacket off on a nearby rack and shutting the door firmly behind her. "What are you in the mood for, then? Past, future? Another planet? Maybe a new city, or some place as yet untouched by sentient life?"