WHY I LOVE || Doctor Who

If I could pinpoint one television show that has made the biggest impact on me, I would one hundred percent say Doctor Who. The day this show entered my life properly was a very good day indeed, because I have never, ever looked back. Doctor Who is my TV show, the one I will resort back to again and again, and I don’t think that attitude will ever stop for me. I just really, really love Doctor Who. It breaks my heart, cues emotional breakdowns and makes me laugh like no other show will and I’m honestly surprised that I’ve never thought to project that love into words.

After the recent series nine finale, I’d decided to watch all the episodes again from 2005 onwards, to fulfil that gaping hole that’s left when your favourite show goes back on hiatus. That meant raking through my endless DVD collection for series one and rewatching the first episode since the reboot again – Rose. But first, I’m going to tell you how my love for this ridiculous TV show actually began.

To the surprise of quite a lot of people who know me well, I didn’t actually begin as a fan. In fact, I was mostly the opposite. Back in 2005 when the show came back, I was only about seven or eight, and I utterly hated it. I remember distinctly that the first episode I actually came across – a year later – was Rise of the Cybermen and The Age of Steel, where the monotonous pounding of steel literally haunted my dreams and I couldn’t sleep for a week. That didn’t mean I gave up, though, oh no – I persisted with The Idiot’s Lantern, but the first time one of the faces disappeared I was straight behind the sofa with a chilling image in my head. The Impossible Planet was possibly the last straw. The minute Tobias Zed turned round with those red eyes and symbols scrawled over his face I stopped watching it. For four years.

Admittedly, that was a serious error on my behalf. Those four years were an absolute Golden Age for NewWho. Looking back now, I wish I had seen it through and persisted – but at eight years old I could not comprehend the beautiful relationships, the stunning cinematography and heartbreaking storylines as I can as an eighteen year old. All I saw were faceless people and heard chilling whispers of don’t turn around.

I guess Doctor Who fulfilled its purpose for me. A kid, sat behind the sofa, squealing at any given moment. That’s the kind of image I see whenever anyone describes watching Classic Who as a child. The thing was I got so scared that my parents wouldn’t let me watch it again and I gradually lost interest.

But, for some reason back in 2010, I decided to start again. And I am so glad that I did.

The first episode I properly watched from start to finish was Matt Smith’s first entrance as the Doctor in The Eleventh Hour. I was about thirteen and for the first time, I didn’t see Doctor Who as a show that was just scary anymore. I watched Doctor Who as a show about a madman with a blue police box, travelling through time and space with a companion or two and saving planets and defeating villains and it just being truly magical. Up until that moment, where I sat and watched the Doctor and Amy run around a hospital whilst some wacky alien thing was trying to conquer them, I hadn’t found my show. And as soon as the credits rolled, I had.

Now, it’s 2016. Six years I’ve been ridiculously addicted to this show: I’ve been to a cinema screening of the 50^th anniversary, watched the regeneration of the eleventh into the twelfth, seen the loss of the Ponds as well as Clara Oswald, went back and cried profusely over Doomsday and collected a very nerdy selection of action figures. I’ve come to the conclusion that David Tennant is most definitely my Doctor and that I just can’t pick a favourite companion no matter how many times I change my mind.

I am probably a bit late on the Doctor Who bandwagon. But with a show as long-running and highly regarded as Who, I don’t think there’s a time where it’s too late to be a fan. All I know is that I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving this ludicrous show and it’s even more ludicrous characters, and even though there are moments where I almost lose my faith it always manages to win me back.

So, here’s to another six years of being a fanatic, I guess. Probably more than that. Because when you run with the Doctor, it feels like it’ll never end.