Doctor, my Doctor
The best answer to the question who is your favourite Doctor is always…the current one, of course, but most older fans don’t agree.
There’s the usual Tom Baker vs Jon Pertwee debate depending on how early in the Sixties you were born. And then invariably, the David Tennant and Christopher Eccleston tussle. But Saturday’s Whovian Extravaganza muddied the time and space fanzine continuum enormously since four Doctors were upchucked onto the screen at the same time. Confusing.
My child-head surrendered in a nostalgic puddle of joy when Tom Baker hobbled onto our screens at the very end. All those powerful memories, the stuff of nightmares, adventure and excitement. I could almost taste the toast and jam I would devour, washed down with orange squash, which was always (if I made it) not quite diluted enough.
Then it was time for my grown up self to fall into a royal swoon when David Tennant appeared. I LOVED that Doctor, I really did.
In the end it was Matt Smith, a Doctor I had never fully accepted, a Doctor I watched, unsure, and still making my mind up about three years into his tenure…it was his Doctor who got me. Which totally surprised me, but then I thought about it and realised – there is something very ‘in the moment’ about Doctor Who. It’s that magnificent feeling you get that somehow you are traveling with him, in the present, an unseen companion hanging on for dear life as he flies you off to a universe of possibilities and adventures.
I’ll always have a soft spot for Tom Baker. That manic-eyed, curly-headed, scarf-wearing Doctor man. I’d share my jelly babies with him any day.
It took a while Matt, but, okay I admit it…you’re amazing.