I’ve been watching Doctor Who since the first weeks of the new series.
I was only twelve at the time, and completely oblivious, so my eighteen year old brother sat me down to watch “Rose” and “The End of the World.” Needless to say, it was the best thing EVER.
I have this really vivid memory of jumping up and down on my parents’ bed and gushing to them. ”And in the trailer! In the next one! There’s Charles Dickens! And Ghosts!”
I have loved it always, but for many years I wasn’t very good at being up to date. The first episode with Tenn that I saw was “The Idiot’s Lantern,” and I remember asking my sister, “Is his hair always like that?” Every change over the years brought panic and dread, and excitement and wonder.
It wasn’t until just as Tenn was ending that my love for the show kicked up from casual fan to obsessive fanatic. Ask my friends. Or look around my room at my multiple posters, hand-crocheted 9-11 dolls, home-made TARDIS Pillow, home-made TARDIS backpack, dvds, shirts…
I could rant for hours about the wonders of Doctor Who. Suffice it to say, I live and breathe Doctor Who.