My Memories of Doctor Who By @Cheezypeas

The 1980’s, ah yes. A rather strange decade of fashion, music and politics etc, etc and the decade this little madam was born.

My first ever recollections of TV shows/films was Ghostbusters. The minute I set eyes on the movie I was hooked and up until an age where I could see it was an illogical career; I had decided to be a Ghostbuster when I grew up.

I am fortunate to have a mum (or ‘Mumsey’ as I fondly call her, due to our mutual love of the Crystal Maze) who absolutely adored Jon Pertwee, and it is thanks to her that my first ever memories of Doctor Who began.

I can’t remember the year, although I recall I was still going through my obsessional mud pie creation stage and running around busting imaginary ghosts, so must have been about 6-7 years old. It was a Sunday and I was watching some TV for a bit before venturing out into the garden to commence a hard days graft constructing mud pies. Then a Doctor Who repeat came on.  I really wasn’t paying attention at this point, as I was preoccupied with the serious business of mud pie construction.

Mum noticed the programme; “Oh, lovely Jon, he plays Worzel. Can you tell?” (Worzel Gummidge was on a lot at that point and I loved the programme.)

“But mummy, he looks too tidy to be Worzel, will he change heads?” I asked, bewildered. 

“Oh no silly.” Mum replied, shaking her head laughing. “He’s the Doctor on this show, he has a magic blue telephone box which allows him to travel in time.”

I watched as this smartly dressed man battled against giant rabid maggots with Bessie and U.N.I.T. and the green goo. Wow, do we get those in our garden? Why haven’t I seen any before? I was obsessed. Mesmerised and full of wonder. I spent the rest of the day on a hunt to see if I could acquire such beasties, alas to no avail. From that day on was hooked on any repeats of classic episodes, especially Third Doctor ones.

Luckily, having older brothers I could watch the latest Doctor Who so I was exposed to the end part of Sixth Doctor then the Seventh Doctor’s era. I adored Ace, and being a tomboy I related to her totally.

Then nothing. I was still very young when Survival was televised, so I sat there patiently waiting for the next episode that never came. As a young child who was single handily brought up by her Mum I waited, and waited. (and yes, I can totally empathise with Amelia Pond!)  Time passed, and I felt like the show had abandoned me so although I kept my ear half cocked to the ground for any return I carried on and travelled through my difficult teenage years until 1996; The movie.

I was 16 and had my face almost pressed against the screen in anticipation. My show had returned? Then, the anticlimax. Was that it? Then the familiar yet lonely, slient abyss.

Time passed, got a degree, became a scientist, researched for a bit then went back to my initial plan to become a nurse. I had almost given up on any possibility of Doctor Who returning.

The reprise of Doctor Who couldn’t have come at a better time. I lost my eldest brother and started my nurse training in 2004. The following year, I couldn’t believe the hype of the media about the show returning. Then Christopher Eccleston uttered the infamous words; “Do you want to come with me?” and I fell in love with the show all over again.

Oh fangirls, you really screwed up things for me in the tenth Doctor’s era. I could not watch a whole episode all the way through thanks to the school girl gushes, although the Whovian in me kept dipping into the episodes, defiant in my devotion to the show yet determined not to be tarnished with the overview of “oh, you’re a girl, you only like Doctor Who because of David Tennant.” (This is also why I don’t have a lot of patience for shallow fan girls who don’t really appreciate the show)  

Yep, my expression kind of matches Woody's! I feel your pain cowboy.

Over the past few years, I have really got back into loving Doctor Who and to a level more deeper that ever before. Whilst in a depressive state it was recommended to me that I watched Patrick Troughton. He provided the therapeutic escapism I needed. I have never looked back and I adore him as the Doctor. He IS my Doctor. I also revisited the wonderful Third Doctor and renewed my respect and love for him. As a result, I have taken the time to watch every Doctor and appreciate and respect each of them completely. I also got over my fan girl phobia regarding Tennant thanks to a special Whovian in my life ;-)

So, even after the painful wilderness years, the First Doctor was correct; he did come back, and we should never lose our faith and keep him dear to our hearts. To the wonderful Doctor, his companions and villains; Thank you, simply thank you. xxxx