Nostalgic Saturdays – Tea-time and Doctor Who!

When we eventually arrived home from shopping at The Arndale Centre, I would immediately delve into the bags of shopping until I retrieved my small box of Lego, and proceed to open the box and deposit the contents on the dining room table (this was years before they introduced the transparent plastic bags to contain the pieces within the boxes). I would take one look at the instructions and then dispose of them, preferring instead to look at the picture on the front of the box for a minute and then put the toy together from memory. By this time I had forgotten all about my harrowing experiences at the Arndale, and was as happy as a sand boy playing with my new Lego vehicle, the patterns on our garish 1970’s carpet serving as roads along which I could push it. Unfortunately I always seemed to be in the way of my mum who constantly tripped over me in her attempts to prepare the tea for us, thus reducing me back to my former status as public enemy number one. This further provocation on my part usually resulted in a swift verbal attack or a ‘clip round the ear’, which I usually reacted to by bursting into tears and scurrying to the nearest corner of the room to hide (bless!). I often sought sanctuary with my sister at these times, even if she did try to poison me with contaminated toddler’s aids, and she was of immense comfort and support to me as a child. I do, however, find it hard to believe that I can still retain these fond memories, as I recall further incidents such as her taking me to the deep end at Putney swimming baths before I could swim and then letting go of me, or encouraging me to eat weeds from the garden whilst assuring me that it was in fact rhubarb. The one that makes me wince most of all is the oft-recounted story of her changing my nappy with a safety pin when she was only three-and-a-half years old….

Let’s now come to the point of all this reminiscing, and that is the Saturday evening television line-up on BBC1 at the time. As we came in from shopping on a Saturday it was usually about 4.30 or so in the afternoon, and Grandstand was entering its last half hour or so, and that meant that the football results were on. Now I not only hated Grandstand (apart from the music, of course – how smashingly nostalgic it is) but sport in general, and especially football. I would sit in front of the television staring at the screen and listening to Len Martin’s voice droning on about Partick Thistle losing 2-0 to Motherwell, and longing for the familiar music to fade in and the credits to roll. We still had a black and white television set in those days (something which I’ll elaborate on in a later post), and I can still see in my mind’s eye* the daylight from the balcony doors reflecting onto the screen and obliterating the transmitted images. The television was high on a shelf and I was used to sitting on the floor whilst watching it. I mention the balcony as our second floor maisonette had a balcony off the living room, and I would then jump up and draw the curtains so I could see the screen properly.

The following three hours or so were spent watching firstly the news (though not really understanding or paying attention to it), having our tea, and then watching either Basil Brush or The Muppets, and then of course it would be time for Doctor Who to burst onto the screen. I’ll mention later on the fact that that monochrome television pictures always seemed much creepier to me as a child than colour ones, and Doctor Who was no exception, especially as the programme scared me anyway. The combination of the tunnel title sequence and the howling theme tune used to frighten me no end, even before the episode had begun, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that my sister used to tell me that the Doctor lived in the black hole that appeared in the title sequence (thanks again, Paula), which really made me feel at ease. I can’t honestly say that I recall any specific stories or even moments from Doctor Who from this point in time, nor do I remember if I understood what was going on within the stories or whether I realised that a story was made up of more than one episode. I also can’t remember if I had thought earnestly about last Saturday’s episode during the six days that had followed, as apparently happened during the 1960’s when kids would be seen running around the school playground pretending to be Daleks. But what I do remember is that I was captivated by the show, the larger-than-life character that was Tom Baker, and the fact that it was compelling viewing that I wouldn’t miss if I could help it. If there was anything on TV which I knew would scare me, I used to sit with a cushion on my lap at the ready so that I could quickly hide my face behind it should a particularly frightening scene or image present itself on screen. This is one of those memories from my childhood which really sticks in my mind with surprising detail, to the point where I can recall the exact pattern of our settee’s upholstery and the smell of the cushion material. Following Doctor Who was usually The Generation Game and later on The Two Ronnies, and these were a treat for my sister and I to watch before we went to bed.

Next Episode: Entering The Eighties – and discovering other Doctors!