March 2005: the Aftermath

Saturday 25 March 2005

 

Huge sigh of relief.  It looked brilliant, Billie Piper was excellent, Christopher Eccleston was not as irritating as I had feared, and the story was not at all bad.  It was a bit rushed, there were a few too many comedy bits and there were some holes in the plot, but it was recognisably Doctor Who. The first episode has a difficult job to do, establishing the characters and fitting in a story, within the space of 45 minutes.  I particularly liked the bit where Rose’s boyfriend offers to take her down the pub to cheer her up, and she asks whether there is a football match on…

Sunday 26 March 2005

Visit Winchelsea.  Buy Sunday Times – AA Gill’s review of last night’s episode misses the point.  It is not clear whether he actually watched it. He seems to have been reviewing his memories from the seventies.

Monday 27 March 2005

Return home.  Watch recorded version of Rose. No, I didn’t imagine it, it’s still good.

Ratings for Rose beat Ant and Dec hollow. Excellent.

 Wednesday 29 March 2005

The BBC has commissioned a second series.  Yippee!

 Thursday 30 March 2005

But Christopher Eccleston isn’t going to be in it.  Hmmm.

But the BBC want David Tennant to replace him.  Double yippee with extra pepperoni!!!

I go to my first Convention

The Thirtieth Anniversary convention, Panopticon 93, was the very first Doctor Who convention I attended, just two years after marrying into fandom.  I really was not sure what to expect, but took along some jelly babies for emergencies.  It was held at a hotel in Hammersmith, which charged what I thought was an extortionate amount for a pot of tea. 

This was during the time when Doctor Who was off the air and unfashionable.  The convention was run by fans, for fans, most of whom were male. The event was hosted by Nicholas Briggs, now known as the voice of the Daleks, who encouraged the audience to shout ‘Get lost Nick, you bald git’ every time he appeared. (This has proved a hard habit to break.)  The highlight of that event was an appearance from Tom Baker – the first time I had seen him live in his full and entirely bonkers glory. 

One of the fascinations of the event was the dealers' room. In those days Daleks and Sonic Screwdrivers weren't available at all good retailers.  If you wanted merchandise, you got it at a convention, or by mail order. (For younger readers, 'mail order' involved sending off a thing called a cheque in the post, and waiting 28 days for delivery.]  We were particularly struck by one piece of merchandise: a cabinet for storing your Doctor Who VHS cassettes, that looked like a TARDIS.  It was quite expensive for us, but we needed somewhere to keep all those tapes, so it would earn its keep.

What happened next

Reader, I married him.

(The Doctor Who fan, not Sylvester).  On a snowy day in 1991, we moved into our first house, along with a bookcase full of Target novelisations.

We didn't have much money at the time, as all our savings had gone into the house, and mortgage rates were high, but by the end of the year we were able to afford a VCR of our own. Doctor Who was no longer being made, but our Saturday night treat was watching an old episode and if we were lucky, eating a Wispa bar (3 for 60p from Tesco).  This may sound a bit like the four Yorkshiremen sketch, but I swear it's true.

After watching Terror of the Zygons, Genesis of the Daleks, City of Death and The Talons of Weng Chiang I soon realised that I had been mistaken and that Tom Baker, despite his Mum-frightening eyes, was in fact the best Doctor.  (I had previously believed this to be Jon Pertwee, on the same basis that everyone thinks their first Doctor is the best.)

After two years of indoctrination by video and novelisation, I was ready for my first convention.

How it all started....

Jon Pertwee was my first Doctor. 

My earliest (possibly unreliable) memory of actually watching Doctor Who was of  Death to the Daleks, or, as my family knew it, 'the one with the hearthrugs.' (I'll explain later). I know I saw The Dinosaur Invasion, as I can remember talking about it, but my memories of Doctor Who from that time are all very muddled with power cuts, the Three Day Week (ask your grandparents), football results and sausage sandwiches for tea.  I know I watched it and enjoyed it, even if the Daleks were viewed from behind the family sofa - cream vinyl, later covered with green nylon stretch covers, if you are interested.  We lived in a bungalow, so the Daleks were particularly scary.

I missed some of Tom Baker.  My mother didn't like his eyes.  She didn't like Marty Feldman's eyes either, and we weren't allowed to watch anything with him in it. Even things like Monty Python that he wasn't actually in. I know I saw some Tom Baker stories. I was terrified by Pyramids of Mars, and I definitely remember being scared of Davros in Genesis of the Daleks.  But there were gaps.  I started watching The Stones of Blood about half way through, and remember having no idea what this Key to Time thingy was supposed to be for. I think this was around the time that I decided I preferred the TV version of Logan's Run and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century.

When Peter Davison took over, I watched fairly regularly, even if it did clash with Coronation Street. I had a bit of a crush on the Fifth Doctor, or possibly even Adric.  (Definitely not Turlough, though).

I stopped watching regularly after the Fifth Doctor regenerated.  I watched if I happened to be around when it was on, but I could take it or leave it. 

I think this pattern of Doctor Who watching is probably fairly common for someone of my vintage. When I went off to university I had no idea that the children's programme of my youth was going to return to haunt the rest of my life. 

But then I fell in love with a Doctor Who fan. As he didn't have a VCR at the time, I recorded Sylvester's final season for him off-air, lovingly typing the labels.

...to be continued.