- Holly Searle
- London, United Kingdom
- Holly Searle is a writer who was born in Westminster in the middle of London. She shares her birthday with Jarvis Cocker and David Seaman and like Jarvis Cocker she wears glasses but has nothing whatsoever in common with David Seaman. She is fascinated by words, people and their stories, and regularly spends hours fantasising about being offered a weekly column. She has a degree in Film and Television which she gained from Brunel University in 1997. She has been blessed with two quite remarkable children whom she adores. She enjoys the company of her friends and the circus that is life. Long Walk to Forever by Kurt Vonnegut is her favourite short story. She is the author of the published children's tale The Story of Balan Singh, and is currently working on her first book.
Thursday, 26 June 2014
I can't ever imagine not knowing who The Doctor was, is and will be.
Ever since I was a little girl, he has been a part of my life. Literally part of my life as he first appeared on screen the very same year that I was born.
As I grew, so did he. From one incarnation to the next, be was always there time travelling in the Tardis, exploring new worlds, and meeting new creatures and beings.
Some were so frightful, that I can still recall just how terrified I was by them and the impact that they had on me. And then his popularity appeared to diminish as society changed.
However, in 2005, some bright spark at the BBC decided it was time to bring The Doctor back. I couldn't contain my excitement as the countdown began to this new series and this further incarnation of The Doctor in the guise of Christopher Eccleston, as he once again dusted down the Tardis and took to the small screen.
Saturday evenings were complete once again.
It was pure magic.
It was pure magic for me, but also for Child Two as he and I were able to bridge our generational divide with something I had enjoyed when I was little with something he now enjoyed whilst he was little as well.
It was tellytastic bliss.
And just as we got used to this new Doctor, he became someone else. At first, as no one ever likes change, we were indignant to this usurping of someone whom we had welcomed into our living room on a Saturday night was remoulded into someone else.
We wondered at what the BBC thought they were doing. How dare they whip the table cloth, and slight of hand us in such a way when we had bedded down and grown used to this dark and brooding ninth Doctor.
But then we pretty soon began to realise, that this tenth Doctor, well he was something special.
With his mismatched attire of tweed and converse baseball boots, he had us at Hello, and we were smitten.
And what a ride it was that we accompanied him on. And for the next five years we were happy as Larry, as each series entertained us with thrilling adventures, encounters, richly woven characters, story arches, drama, and that love story that panned out between this Doctor and Rose Tyler.
You couldn't ask for more.
We loved every single minute from the moment he appeared, until the moment he bid us adieu in his final episode. There were tears then, as this time travelling humanist was replaced by model number eleven.
And that was David Tennant. The Doctor who made wearing specs, even those of the 3D variety cool. He met Queen Victoria, Werewolves, Weeping Angels, River Song, Madame de Pompadour, Mickey Smith, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, made sense of Bad Wolf, dealt with the Daleks and the Cybermen, had a bromance with Capitan Jack Harkness, became the simple John Smith and then met his match when his old nemesis The Master returned.
He was quite phenomenal in that role, and with the writing talents and imagination of the wondrous Russell T Davies guiding each episode, these were definitely the glorious golden years of the new Doctor.
And then he was go
As Child Two had grown from five to ten during these years, imagine his delight when even though this Doctor had disappeared from our screens, he then started to appear to us in reality.
Our first encounter was after we had ended a charity walk/run. Who should arrive at the finish line moments after we had? David Tennant.
Then one Saturday afternoon in a local supermarket, my son blushed profusely as he incoherently pointed out that he had just seen him again in an aisle looking at washing powder.
At that time he was appearing in the excellent drama Broadchurch, and I was sorely tempted to accost him and ask him who the murderer was?
Then my son volunteered to help show the parents of perspective new students around his school one open evening. And who should turn up? Yes, that's correct, David Tennant.
Then finally today, I arrive at my son's sports day, and guess who was there to support his son?
So in the end, it is nice to know even though we thought we had lost him forever, he will a least be around for the next few formative years.
Why, anyone would think he was still a Time Lord.
And to us, he always will be.