It occurred to me today that I might well be unique inasmuch as I am fairly sure I have seen every episode of Doctor Who since that very first episode on the day after President Kennedy was assassinated in 1963. I say fairly sure because even to me it seems quite fantastic that in those days before video recorders I consistently managed to transpire to be in front of a television set on a Saturday evening. I must be deluding myself I know but I honestly believe that I have never missed a single one. I was hooked from the moment my father called us kids down to watch the very first episode An Unearthly Child. The child of the title was in fact the Doctor’s granddaughter Susan Foreman, who excelled in some subjects at school but showed a distinct lack of knowledge in others to the dismay of her teachers Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright. Susan went to school in 1960’s
I was already a great fan of CS Lewis and the Narnia Chronicles so was used to the concept of snow-covered lands at the back of wardrobes but the TARDIS was such a brain-stretcher, it remains the same fascinating concept today as it was then. To see Ian and Barbara walk in and then walk out and around, as virtually every other assistant has done so since, before commenting “but it’s bigger on the inside” ensured a life-long addiction. At nine-years-old I bought the books and watched the Peter Cushing films and remember being so upset when William Hartnell turned into Patrick Troughton. Although William Hartnell will always be the best Dr Who for me, as he was the first, I soon enjoyed all the subsequent incarnations, in equal measure – they all brought something to the table and the character is so iconic, and complex, that it is almost impossible to miscast an actor in the role.
I remember settling down to see the second episode on the 30 November 1963 and was absolutely gobsmacked when the first episode was shown again. This was not advertised in the newspapers and we merely thought it was a mistake but the relief and joy when the second episode was shown immediately after has gone down in history as one of those iconic television moments. After a brief visit back to the cave-dwelling troglodytes we were transported to Skaro and the civil war between the Daleks and Thals. We were then transported to distant planets or to different time periods on Earth, always meeting the famous people of the day such as Marco Polo. I remember one storyline, The Celestial Toyroom, which literally terrified me as it became apparent that even the doctor was a mere pawn at the hands of the toymaker.
Why do I mention my love for the programme now?
My dear friend Gavin Fuller won Mastermind answering questions on Doctor Who and is far more knowledgeable about the programme than I could ever be but poor Gavin was born after the series began and so has to have a distorted view of the whole. Most fans tend to love the doctor who was incumbent at the time of their first cognisant viewing. Can someone who did not live through the 60s really appreciate The Beatles, or begin to understand their effect on humankind? It is the same with Doctor Who to a lesser extent, but in the same way as I had become slightly disillusioned with Paul McCartney since the McCartney/Lennon debacle and the Heather Mills thing I had also become slightly miffed at the way Doctor Who had been heading. Although the actors have been incredibly gifted since its return unfortunately the writers had made it almost a parody of itself with constant implied references to its iconic stature – and then along came Steven Moffat to breathe new life and spark. I watched the final series episode last weekend and was moved to tears for the first time in years. Steven is an incredible talent and probably the most underrated writer in
I am so looking forward to the next series of Doctor Who when I assume River Song (played surprisingly well by Alex Kingston) will play a fairly prominent role as her mysterious relationship with the doctor unravels.
Unlucky
