At some point in my adolescence, the parents of the kids who were then my brother’s and my best friends (respectively) suggested that our family, chronic watchers of PBS television shows, might enjoy Dr Who. I’m pretty sure they were reruns, because I’m pretty sure “our” doctor who was the fourth one (Tom Baker) who evidently initially regenerated in 1981, and I know we watched it later than 1981.
At any rate, we did enjoy the show, and watched it until that doctor regenerated, and there was something in that episode that either freaked me out, or concerned my mother, or both. Either way, that was the end of watching Dr Who for a good long time.
When I moved to London, there was a Dr Who shop right in the High Street in my borough. This fact delighted me. I never went in there, though–I was afraid to. Or maybe ashamed to. I felt like my previous encounters with the Doctor were somehow suspect because I had dropped him like you might drop a mouldy vegetable that you didn’t know was mouldy until you stuck your thumb in the squidgy part you couldn’t see.
Anyway, that was that, except for a few random check-ins from an obsessive Whovian I’m still friends with from London. None of his explanations and story recountings ever made any sense to me, however. Until the Boyfriend.
It turns out, as I discovered on Hurricane Day before the electricity went out at his house for the second time and we resorted to telling each other stories of our childhood, in the gloaming, that the Boyfriend is a closet sci fi geek, and that Dr Who is now at the top of his list. It is now also at the top of my list. He gets programming from BBC America, so every time I go over there we have to watch an episode or two. We’re a little behind; we’ve watched a few Matt Smith ones, but mostly we’re still on the David Tennant doctor, whom I believe I like better.
My facebook friends who also like Dr Who are rejoicing over my newfound Whovian status, but I’m still a novice and scarcely know what I’m talking about yet when I talk about the Doctor. A friend of mine wrote “Fezzes are cool” on my facebook wall, and I know enough to know that that’s a Dr Who quote, but I have yet to see the episode in which it is made. I only sort of remember Daleks, and I miss K-9. Still, this is a fun new diversion, and who knows? Maybe next time I’m in London, I’ll just walk right into that shop. Maybe I’ll even get something.