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Nov. 8th, 2004 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eregyrnI was just now seized with an extremely strong desire to watch some Doctor Who from the Jon Pertwee years. Possibly this has to do with drinking too much wine with dinner and reading Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island. I am sure there is a connection somewhere.
Jon Pertwee was not my first Doctor; Peter Davison was. I remember quite clearly the shock and dismay when I sat down in front of the TV at some godawful hour of the morning (which is when my PBS station chose to air Doctor Who), to find out that the cliffhanger from the week before (that I cannot now really remember, except that it was from midway through Peter Davison's run, not the end of it) wasn't to be resolved at all, but instead to find that it had been replaced by more or less the same opening credits and yet a switch to black and white film and some small dark-haired man regenerating into a white-haired guy with a tattoo. To say that I was dumbfounded would be an understatement. In the first place, I desperately loved Peter Davison. (And had since first seeing him on All Creatures Great and Small.) In the second place, this was in the days before the internet, and I was an isolated little geek, and I had very little notion about the history of the program, and still less notion of the fact that the episodes involving the Fifth Doctor were the Very Latest Thing and my PBS station only owned the episodes of Doctors Three through Five, so that once they were done with Five, they were obliged to start over again with Three.
And yet despite this rocky beginning, I actually grew to love Jon Pertwee, and his Doctor, and Jo. And the Brigadier, whom I already knew but who was a lot younger then. And Benton. And an entirely different Master. And Britain of circa 1970 through 1974. Tom Baker, when he came along, was nice enough. But while I am still fond of the Peter Davison era, because that was my Era of Discovery, I think that I might be fondest of Jon Pertwee's run as the Doctor.
I think it's probably out on DVD.
Also, I think that wine makes me maudlin. Or something.
Jon Pertwee was not my first Doctor; Peter Davison was. I remember quite clearly the shock and dismay when I sat down in front of the TV at some godawful hour of the morning (which is when my PBS station chose to air Doctor Who), to find out that the cliffhanger from the week before (that I cannot now really remember, except that it was from midway through Peter Davison's run, not the end of it) wasn't to be resolved at all, but instead to find that it had been replaced by more or less the same opening credits and yet a switch to black and white film and some small dark-haired man regenerating into a white-haired guy with a tattoo. To say that I was dumbfounded would be an understatement. In the first place, I desperately loved Peter Davison. (And had since first seeing him on All Creatures Great and Small.) In the second place, this was in the days before the internet, and I was an isolated little geek, and I had very little notion about the history of the program, and still less notion of the fact that the episodes involving the Fifth Doctor were the Very Latest Thing and my PBS station only owned the episodes of Doctors Three through Five, so that once they were done with Five, they were obliged to start over again with Three.
And yet despite this rocky beginning, I actually grew to love Jon Pertwee, and his Doctor, and Jo. And the Brigadier, whom I already knew but who was a lot younger then. And Benton. And an entirely different Master. And Britain of circa 1970 through 1974. Tom Baker, when he came along, was nice enough. But while I am still fond of the Peter Davison era, because that was my Era of Discovery, I think that I might be fondest of Jon Pertwee's run as the Doctor.
I think it's probably out on DVD.
Also, I think that wine makes me maudlin. Or something.
