I don't know exactly
when I first watched a whole Doctor Who
story.
My
first episode was Part Two of The Happiness Patrol.
I lasted about five minutes before being freaked out at the
shrieking, terrifying weirdness of the Candyman. I definitely caught
parts of Planet of the Daleks and
Pyramids of Mars on
BBC 2 in the early Nineties. They were, again, unsettling and I
didn't linger.
My
brother bought Logopolis and
The Caves of Androzani first,
I think, but this may have come after we got Spearhead from
Space out of the video shop near
my grandparents in Hereford. We used to get Tom & Jerry
and Tom & Jerry
Kids out, and everyone put up
with that, and then we got the omnibus edition of Spearhead.
This
would have been some time around 1994, I think. Everything about it
is now firmly ensconced in the past. You don't get omnibus editions.
You don't get videos or video shops. I don't get to witness Doctor
Who like that anymore, it's
never going to be as weird and strange again for me.
My Grandad died at the
start of the month. Gran died in 1997.
We were down in
Hereford for his funeral, staying in their house. The video shop is a
newsagent now, but I couldn't remember how to walk there. The house,
a place we went on holiday, where the temperatures seemed dizzyingly
high to a pale boy dwelling in Lanarkshire, wasn't the version I held
in my head. It was a house that had been lived in for thirty five
years.
I'd largely forgotten
about the omnibus edition of Spearhead from Space to
be honest, even though I remember the feeling when Ransome is
disintegrated. I was already barely holding it together but when the
'Total Destruct' occurs, and he just vanishes, I shut down for a
minute. I couldn't cope with the idea that you could just be utterly
gone. Plus first you had to be shot. Really hard.
Doctor Who doesn't
do the same thing for me now. I'm a 31 year old man, so there's a
strong argument that it shouldn't have to do that much anyway. This
means I've got at least three different versions of Spearhead
from Space in my memory: the
first time, the Hereford video shop time, on holiday at my
grandparents; the first time after 2005, when I rediscovered fandom;
the last time I watched it.
I
looked up a blu-ray review I don't remember writing, where I mention
watching the video in 1994. I assume, at this point, I'd have been
looking at picture quality and bonus features, looking specifically
at the aspects of the release that might make someone buy it yet
again.
Context,
essentially, is everything.
Loss,
nostalgia, and the rarity of it – for me – means the context
where I watched it with my family as a child, that's the best one. That's the one you're supposed to have for Doctor Who isn't it? That's partly it, but also it's that sense of surprise, of not knowing what Doctor Who was yet. It's when the show is most exciting - before the toys get put back in the box.
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