So last night was the night I had been waiting for, excitedly, along with the rest of the country. For this year’s Easter Sunday brought a modern-day resurruction of its own – the return of the intrepid time traveller, the Doctor, newly regenerated in the body of Matt Smith.
I think it is true to say that Doctor Who is a big part of my life. Not in an ‘I’ve-got-a-huge-crush-on-David-Tennant’ or, following last night’s opening episode, an ‘on-first-impressions-oops-I-actually-fancy-Matt-Smith’ kind of way. (He’s just too new – not to mention too young – to float my boat on that score).
Although I admit David Tennant was rather ravishing as the Doctor when he brought out that teary-eyed, far-away look. Then again, so was Bernard Cribbins. Age is no barrier to provoking an emotional response. Whether the eleventh Doctor can tug at my heartstrings is yet to be seen; but he certainly made me laugh during the opening scenes of last night’s episode. Fishfingers and custard, anyone?
Of course, the Doctor has never left my screen really, since between the last series and the special episodes that aired last year, I have been watching the boxed sets of the Christopher Eccelston/David Tennant era again from the beginning. Son of Mine is now old enough to watch them, so in true DW fan club style, The Family have sat down together on most Saturday nights to absorb the phenomenon of the Tardis and all who travel in her.
My earliest memories of Doctor Who go back to when I was 5. It would have been Series 11, with Jon Pertwee and Elisabeth Sladen making her first appearance as Sarah Jane Smith. I don’t remember detailed storylines, just the scariness of the ultimate of Doctor’s Who’s enemies – the Daleks. My memories are of my grandfather, ‘Pops’, and I playing our own version of Doctor Who, with me of course as Sarah Jane. This role playing took place in the kitchen, where I used to ‘help’ with the washing up. Sound effects were provided by a door stop, one that was attached to the wall and consisted of a coiled metal spring with a rubber bung on the end. I suppose up close it looked rather like a Dalek’s plunger, but it made a satisfying ‘boinggg’ that sufficed as the noise of the Tardis taking off on another journey through time and space.
Daughter of Mine asked me last night whether, given the chance, I would marry David Tennant. Or, seeing my facial expression change ever so slightly, maybe Matt Smith. “Of course not,” I replied, “I’m married to Daddy.”
But if I was given the chance to go travelling amongst the stars, in a blue box, then yes, I would be off like a shot. I just know Who my Doctor would be.