The Children's Own Programme That
blah blah blah
Part Five
And finally...
Inevitably, I come at last to the third generation in this 'Who Family
Tree' - namely my daughter. Her having some sort of relationship with
Doctor Who is inevitable, due to me. Rather like Fenric's curse carried
down through the generations, in some way or another Doctor Who will
feature in her life. Well, certainly as long as she's living under my roof
it will! I would guess that she is in a minority in her school in that she
knows what a Dalek is, what the TARDIS does, even (because I have a Dapol
one sat on my bookshelf) what an Ice Warrior looks like. She knows that
I'm, well, somewhat obsessed with Doctor Who, and that my wife makes a big
show of not liking it - and these two facts taken together probably help
form (or at least inform) her response to the show. Namely a groan of
derision, and a roll of the eyes, and sometimes even a, "You're not
watching that!"
But, poor child, she is already partly under the spell, even if she
doesn't realise it. Babies and toddlers by all accounts like repetition -
I know that as a child I used to like having Mum read the Mr Men books
over and over; rather than forever wanting something new, there seems to
be an attraction in the constantly familiar. In my time of course this
only really applied to books; nowadays, through the magic of VHS and DVD,
children can also watch the same thing over and over (and over) again.
Unless my memory cheats, my daughter's first such obsession was Disney's
feline romp "The Aristocats" which I can now recall in considerable
detail. But when Thomas O'Malley and co started to pall, the next
obsession for my littl'un was--- Peter Cushing in "Doctor Who and the
Daleks"!
Perhaps taking her cue from my brother and his sense of selective viewing,
my daughter only liked the parts of the film after the Daleks had first
appeared, so we always had to fast forward through those 'boring' bits at
the start. I have to own up and confess that I did get carried away and
made the mistake of then showing her "Daleks: Invasion Earth 2150AD" - to
do my Barry Letts impression (he referring to the error of "Terror of the
Autons") it's one thing to show gravelly-voiced pepper pots gliding round
an alien city; it's quite another to show them out in the real world
killing people. Good point, yes...
My daughter of course will never be able to escape Doctor Who, not even if
our TV should spontaneously combust tomorrow. By the same osmosis that has
so transformed (or corrupted, take your pick) my wife, my daughter too
will inevitably pick up bits and pieces - semi-quotes particularly at
present. The crazed (and vaguely Welsh) delivery of "Rassilon's discovery,
all mine!" from that dull story "The Deadly Assassin" is perfect for all
kinds of domestic situation, simply by changing the noun. Hence, for
example, "Rassilon's fish fingers, all mine!" or "Rassilon's chocolate
buttons, all mine!" or even "Rassilon's homework, all yours!" Another such
quote is D84's plaintive "Please do not throw hands at me" which is again
very adaptable, by strategically substituting something else for 'hands':
"Please do not throw cuddly toys/your dirty clothes/a tantrum at me". I'm
sure you get the idea... If you like, you can picture me as the Cyber
Controller, calmly telling my wife and daughter that they "will be like
me."
However, on the grounds that our TV has not yet spontaneously combusted,
my daughter has not just heard my own inane ramblings, but has also in her
time seen some proper Doctor Who on the telly. For some reason she has
ended up seeing the last episode of "The Power of Kroll" several times,
and enjoys it (although she denies this strongly when asked). She has also
seen all of "The Leisure Hive", albeit that was not my intention - I was
in fact going to turn it off before we got to the hive itself, as I
thought that the hints and tantalising glimpses of the 'something' in the
shadows (Did you say Foamasi? as her uncle might say) would be a bit scary
for her. Being totally contrary (kids, tut!) it was the very fact that she
wanted to find out what it was that made her watch the whole flippin'
thing!
Most interestingly though, to a 1979 addict like m'self, has been the
recent UK Gold teatime showing of season 17. Granted we were missing
"Destiny of the Daleks" which I'm sure she would have loved (I could ask
her, but she might say, "Like it? I haven't seen it yet?") but even so my
daughter ended up having to watch much of the remaining four stories.
"City of Death" (set in France, as my Mum will tell you) she didn't take
to all that much, although she did rather incisively point out at the
start that the spaceship looked like a spider - AJ Mitchell's inspiration
for the design being, in fact, a spider. (Pause for beamingly proud
father.) Nevertheless, other than that momentary flash of genius (proud
father, proud father) she was left fairly cold by this all-time classic
featuring Scaroth last of the "Spaghetti-heads" (as she calls them).
"The Creature from the Pit" she again saw bits and pieces of, although
with not much comment (she did ask what wolfweeds were, which was a bit
sticky: "well they're like weeds, but, erm, like wolves too..." flounders
father).
"Nightmare of Eden" was the real insight for me, though. She instantly
dismissed the Mandrels as "just costumes", not in a dismayed manner but
simply as a statement of fact. But although the designs had dated for her,
the concepts hadn't. Just as I was in 1979, she too was intrigued by the
idea of the CET, and the idea that you could step through that archway
onto the planet. Of course, now she's going to want one for Christmas, you
know what kids are like... She was also impressed by the Doctor's clever
solution to trap Tryst and Dymond - oops, sorry if I've spoiled the ending
for anyone there!
The Nimon (as in "Horns of") received equally calmly - no fear, but also
no real criticism. Just an intrigued, "Why do they walk in that funny
way?" (How do you explain 'lumbering menacingly' to a six-year old?) The
only other reaction to season 17 is probably an inevitable one in a
six-year old, whether in 1979 or 2003 - namely (and this is an exact
quotation from the young lady in question, for the cynically-minded among
you) "I love K9." I haven't yet had the heart to tell her that the 'Save
K9' campaign of 1980/81 failed; but I suppose I could dig out my "K9 &
Company" video for her if she's too grief-stricken...
So, will my daughter ever become a fan? I doubt it. For one thing there's
the inevitable opposition to anything that one's parents enjoy (or in this
case, that one parent enjoys.) Nevertheless, I like to think that maybe
one day her boyfriend will be a Doctor Who fan. Actually, that's not quite
true - no father really wants his daughter to have a boyfriend at all,
although I am resigned to the fact that she probably will (mind you, it's
much easier to be resigned to the fact when she's six than it will be when
she's sixteen). But given that she may well date, it might be rather fun
(well, for me anyway) if he (or indeed she) turned out to be a fan - if
nothing else, it would suddenly make me cool for the first time since...
well, ever.
Another idle extrapolation that occasionally bounces around my head is of
us all watching the new series in 2005 - my daughter loves it and becomes
a fan; I hate it and spend the time sat in the corner grumbling that it's
not like it used to be! We shall see. Stranger things have happened...
So there we go. I don't know that this has been particularly illuminating,
other than as a rather overlong analysis of the wide 'coverage' of Doctor
Who in the Curnow line - from my parents who can remember where they were
when Kennedy was shot, to my daughter who wasn't even born when the TV
Movie was shot. I might make one final point, though, if I may - although
it might be true, what with both my brother and I being fans, that Doctor
Who was/is more than usually prevalent in our households I do think that
in general there is a special place in people's affections that only
Doctor Who has.
People seeing my lovely "Death to the Daleks" wallpaper on my work PC may
smile and like it, or they may scoff and call it sad - but they all
recognise it, and they all have some comment to make, whether it's that
they remember William Hartnell, or that they only liked Tom Baker, or even
(as one of our regular delivery drivers said, to my complete surprise)
that they've met Tom Baker, Colin Baker and John Nathan-Turner! In some
indefinable (and indeed magical...) way Doctor Who is in a little world of
its own, and is in its own way quite, quite untouchable.
Here's to another 40!
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