The highs of the 50th anniversary, meeting Brian Cox and Peter Capaldi, interviewing Steven Moffat and reaching Devil’s End with Katy Manning
“The ratings and reviews were through the roof. Everybody everywhere was happy. That was one of the rare moments where I actually thought I know what I’m doing. It lasted about four seconds” – Doctor Who showrunner Steven Moffat on the 50th anniversary special (RadioTimes.com, 2017)
2013
The BBC and Radio Times have always celebrated Doctor Who’s ten-year anniversaries – even when the programme was long off air, as it was for its 30th in 1993 and 40th in 2003. The 10th and 20th anniversaries were major events in my life as a fan, but the 50th would be the apex. I could approach it as a middle-aged professional but – now that I knew a range of people connected with the series – with a degree of insight as well as with a sense of fun.
I was delighted for Waris Hussein. He’d been a founding father of Doctor Who half a century earlier, and now those days were being re-created in An Adventure in Space and Time, Mark Gatiss’s 90-minute BBC “origins drama”. In the early weeks of 2013, Waris rang almost daily to update me on how things were progressing. He was flattered to be portrayed on screen but understandably wary too, helping Mark get the details right about not only himself but also his deceased friends, producer Verity Lambert and head of drama Sydney Newman.
Waris was impressed by Mark, and by Sacha Dhawan, The History Boys star who’d been cast to play him. I captured on camera the first moment they met – in the BFI green room on 12th January. Sacha confided that he was already studying Waris’s mannerisms, whereas Waris told me, jokingly, “I am to be portrayed by my doppelganger, Sacha Dhawan, a handsome actor. Vanity prevails!”
I was privileged to witness the backstage jollity as Waris was reunited with Carole Ann Ford and William Russell, whom he’d cast as Susan and as Ian in 1963, and sweet-natured Brian Hodgson, the Radiophonic Workshop wizard who’d created the sounds of the TARDIS and the Daleks. Something I hadn’t witnessed before was the revere people had for Waris as the great director, which, of course he was. The proof was writ large on the NFT1 screen, as we enjoyed the atmosphere and fluidity he’d brought to An Unearthly Child at the startlingly young age of 24.
One frosty February morning, filming for An Adventure in Space and Time started on Wimbledon Common. Two of my favourite actors, David Bradley and Lesley Manville, were playing William and Heather Hartnell, and Radio Times went along to photograph them by the lakeside, as they posed with a mock-up of the first RT with Doctor Who on the cover.
Production then moved to BBC Television Centre. Waris stood out of shot watching Sacha and Jessica Raine – younger versions of himself and Verity – walking along one of the circular corridors. He was moved to tears and admitted it was fortuitous that he was flying out for a long spell in LA so he would miss any more filming.
With my RT hat on, I attended various stages of the production and found returning to TV Centre especially poignant. Everyone working on Adventure was mindful that it was the very last BBC drama being shot there before the site was redeveloped. On 12th February I went to interview the cast and crew including producer Matt Strevens (who later became a Who executive producer during Chris Chibnall’s tenure). We were on the seventh (top) floor, where offices had been given a 1960s look, and I watched heated scenes between Verity and her boss Sydney Newman, played by Brian Cox.
The BBC publicist wasn’t keen to introduce me to the great man, intimidated perhaps by his formidable personality. This was long before Cox’s stratospheric fame in Succession but he was already an acting giant. I had nothing but admiration and had recently been tickled by his BBC Four sitcom Bob Servant Independent. I’d done my homework and was determined to speak to him.
Coming through an office door, Cox grazed his hand on a splintered frame and needed a plaster, so he took a break between scenes. To the consternation of the publicist, I approached Cox, explained I was from Radio Times and asked when he’d be available to talk. “Oh hi,” he said in that distinctive brogue, part Dundee, part Brooklyn. “I saw you back here and guessed you were an executive I hadn’t met yet.” That made me chuckle. “Sure, if you’re free, let’s do it now.” We stepped out onto a balcony overlooking the inner circle, the “doughnut” of TV Centre, and chatted for half an hour. Despite his stern bearing, Brian Cox is an Aslan figure, growling but benevolent. He was in a nostalgic mood, recalling his work for the BBC in the 1960s and ‘70s. When we came back inside, he confounded the publicist by asking them to take a snapshot of us on my iPhone.
Moments later, Mark Gatiss appeared and whisked me two flights down for a private tour of the deserted fifth floor, close to where the original Doctor Who personnel had been housed in 1963. His design team had created a suite of retro offices, with clunky desks, old typewriters, pencil sharpeners, ancient paperwork… He gave me an hour of his time and shared the nuts and bolts of his passion project.
We’re of a similar age so our memories of Who compare. “We’re Pertwee boys!” he cooed. But we both loved all this earlier stuff too. “The genesis of it all has always fascinated me,” he said. I can’t claim to know Mark well, but I like him immensely. He’s a cultured, talented man, benign and courteous, albeit with more than a tinge of pitch-black wit. He was one of The League of Gentlemen after all, which I adored.
His excitement for what he still had to film was infectious – the original TARDIS, the junkyard from An Unearthly Child, Vortis from The Web Planet… “We’ve got three Menoptra. They’re beautiful. It’s so exciting! And on Sunday morning we’re shooting the Daleks on Westminster Bridge! Come along.” So just after dawn on 17th February I arrived as four Daleks were offloaded from a van. The team were racing to film the Daleks streaming over the bridge with Big Ben in the background before the city woke up. In a nice touch, Mark’s partner Ian Hallard was playing 1960s Who director Richard Martin. I recognised a few other fans on the scene, including Kevin Davies who’d created a similar re-enactment for his excellent BBC documentary 20 years earlier.
The best was yet to come. On 25th February, at Wimbledon Studios, I really did feel like I was having my own adventure in space and time. The team had created a magical evocation of Lime Grove, the BBC’s dilapidated studio facilities circa 1964. Various sets were dotted around, representing Hartnell’s historical stories, Marco Polo and The Reign of Terror. In one corner a police box perched on a patch of sand. A production gallery looked onto an exquisite re-creation of the TARDIS control room – complete with intricate console, a bank of computers, indented walls, even tacky backcloths and the original brass pillars from 1963. Mark walked me round and I couldn’t resist pressing buttons on the console, fingering the fast-return switch… I touched a bright bulb and seared my finger. A stinging blister! Mark said everyone had done the same – and we recalled you can see Frazer Hines burning himself on the console in The Web of Fear (1968).
For a while I sat alone in the TARDIS, watching the filming at the far end of the studio. The set was so realistic, it was easy to believe I’d time-travelled to 1963. It crossed my mind that 30 years had passed since I’d first set foot inside the TARDIS – at TV Centre in 1983 to watch the recording of Peter Davison’s Planet of Fire. I was itching to take photos but, understandably, the publicist vetoed that. Mark was boss, however, snapping away all day with his iPhone, and kindly took three photos of me by the TARDIS console.
Later, I looked sideways and realised a high-profile fan was on set. Peter Capaldi was standing a few feet away. It was still some time before he and the world knew that he would be the next Doctor. Like me, Peter was content to hover on the sideline, observing intently. Before I left, Mark gave me a copy of the artwork for the Doctor Who Annual cover glimpsed briefly in the drama. A subtle improvement on the 1965 original.
The BFI event in January had been just the first of a monthly commitment throughout 2013 to celebrate each Doctor – screenings, Q&A panels and what felt like a mini-convention for devotees. For the first few months, I assisted by supplying contact details for certain personalities who were off the BFI and BBC’s radar, and I reported on the events for RadioTimes.com, until my interest waned.
An Unearthly Child and The Tomb of the Cybermen were superb choices. The six-part The Mind of Evil was a slog, albeit painstakingly restored in colour. My friend Richard Marson and I sat with Katy Manning (companion Jo), which was a hoot, even though she was in great discomfort with a fractured pelvis. Such a trooper, she got through the afternoon without complaint and with few being aware of her injury. As ever she was hilarious on stage. In April, The Robots of Death (1977) was a perfect choice for Tom Baker. The great man was there alongside Louise Jameson (Leela) and their 1970s producer Philip Hinchcliffe. I’d booked a ticket for my RT chum Mark Braxton because it’s his all-time favourite story.
Each event was deftly managed by BFI programmer Justin Johnson, always witty and well prepared, a calm, reassuring presence even as demanding attendees jabbered in his face. In a quiet moment he turned to me and said plaintively, “Nobody will want to know me next year.” However, Justin has remained a steady hand at the BFI over the subsequent decade, hosted many more Who screenings and become a linchpin at the Radio Times Festival.
The intensity of the 50th eased in the summer, but two dates still stand out. On Sunday 14th July I took all my nieces and nephews – the “niblings” as I call them – to the Royal Albert Hall for the Doctor Who Prom. Kaia (12), Finn (9), Jamie (7) and Rose (almost 6) all loved the programme, and the concert brought out the big kid in me. It was a showcase for Murray Gold’s stirring compositions, with perhaps too little of the older music, but a spectacle.
Jaws dropped as monsters such as a Weeping Angel and Cybermen emerged and the current charismatic Who leads, Matt Smith and Jenna Coleman, materialised among the orchestra. They ran through some entertaining shtick, partly in character and partly as themselves. Peter Davison and Carole Ann Ford had joyful moments in the spotlight. And I take my hat off to Neve McIntosh as Silurian Madame Vastra and Dan Starkey as Sontaran Strax, who must have been broiling in their masks and costumes.
Three Sundays later (4th August) we had a laugh-filled afternoon when Katy popped round for tea and met my mum and dad for the first time. We’d been playing Scrabble in the garden and Katy insisted on another game, which was a lot of fun, fuelled by Mum’s cherry Bakewell. My Dad and Katy hit it off and nattered about cricket. Ever optically challenged, Katy mistook a mirror in our garden for a gap through to next door and apologised to the people for the noise we were making.
Coming inside, we turned on the telly just in time to see Peter Capaldi being announced as the new Doctor live on BBC One. Everyone was cock-a-hoop with this mature casting. I’d adored Matt Smith but was losing hope we’d ever see an older actor as the Time Lord.
On 30th September, I drove Anneke Wills (companion Polly) down to Beaulieu for lunch with Ralph Montagu and his mother Belinda. We were left to our own devices to wander round the Motor Museum, but Ralph gave us a personal tour of his beautiful family estate (to which he was still heir), the house and gardens, where we took photos among the medieval walls.
An October miracle. News finally broke that a tranche of missing 1960s episodes had been rediscovered in Nigeria by fan/archivist Philip Morris. I’d known about this since the start of the year but was sworn to secrecy – always thinking I’ll believe it when I see it. Especially as two must-have stories, Marco Polo and The Web of Fear, were guaranteed among the haul. I’ve no idea what became of Marco (that never materialised) but pray a copy is found in Waris’s lifetime. The newly found The Enemy of the World confounded expectations, but an almost complete recovery of The Web of Fear, including the to-die-for fourth episode with so many brilliant scenes directed by Douglas Camfield… Oh my giddy aunt! The press launch at the Soho Hotel was quite something, presided over by Mark Gatiss, with Frazer Hines and Debbie Watling (Jamie and Victoria) elated at seeing their youthful selves on screen. The past was in the future, as Patrick Troughton had once told Richard and me.
2013 brought mixed fortunes for Richard. After many years at a senior level at the BBC, as Blue Peter editor, then producing/directing Tales of Television Centre, he felt empathy for John Nathan-Turner, the showrunner and indeed showman of 1980s Doctor Who. JN-T had died in 2002, but Richard knew he’d make a fascinating subject for biography. Thus “The Life and Scandalous Times of John Nathan-Turner” was conceived. Richard interviewed more than a hundred friends, colleagues and detractors (far more people than any biographer would usually bother to trace) to create a complete, unvarnished but compassionate biography of this complex individual.
No book on a Doctor Who personality had ever been attempted in this vein before and it both enthralled and appalled sectors of fandom. Running right to the top. In a subsequent appendix for its second edition, Richard collated the feedback he’d received. Russell T Davies was extremely supportive: “That book is extraordinary… a great piece of work. I have read it in two days flat, I couldn’t stop.” But it’s true that Richard became persona non grata in some quarters. Certain BBC personnel, who’d been all over him during Russell’s time on Who, cold-shouldered him. The book hit the front page of the tabloids and led to woeful, duplicitous commentary in the broadsheets. DWM, for reasons that remain unclear, wouldn’t even refer to it for several years.
This didn’t, by association, put me in a difficult position because my position will always be that I defend my friends. To borrow JN-T’s line, “I was surprised and delighted” by the biography. It was unputdownable, scurrilous, dripping with detail, gossip, muck, heart and love. That Richard dedicated the book to me speaks volumes, and I was amused when he said he’d written it with my ear in mind. And through it, I’d given life to the term “doable barker” to sum up the object of desire of Gary Downie, JN-T’s partner.
Radio Times was keenly supporting the 50th throughout 2013, and I contributed features, wrote the Choices previews for all the latest Matt Smith episodes (a mini-season I described as “patchy”), and then the reviews for RadioTimes.com. I found myself in the awkward position of interviewing writer Neil Gaiman for the mag, but in the same issue having to be frank that his Cybermen episode Nightmare in Silver was dreadful. I ran an extensive profile of Waris and called upon Don Smith for his memories of the very first photoshoot.
Although the BBC had graciously given us major access to Adventure, the shutters were down for the 50th special itself. Understandably, they had plenty to do shooting The Day of the Doctor and keeping its surprises, without entertaining journalists. I didn’t give two hoots that Christopher Eccleston turned the special down, and was far more excited that it paved the way for John Hurt. With a CV from The Elephant Man to Caligula in I, Claudius, via Quentin Crisp and Alien, he was a legend. One of our finest actors. And he was delighted to “be a Doctor Who” and made the competition look like, well, jelly babies.
Art editor Paul Smith toiled over 12 collectable covers, one for each Doctor, which could be lined up into one image using a collage of pictures from various RT sources. My initial brief was to supply a panel of stats on each era, until editor Ben Preston asked for a profile of each actor. No stretch for me but also no mean feat with a tight deadline. For the RT Choices pages, I was able to preview An Adventure in Space and Time properly, but The Day of the Doctor remained “sight unseen” until its global premiere.
That November was full of excitements. On Tuesday 12th, Waris, his partner Jean-Louis, Richard and I attended the BFI premiere of Adventure – a beautiful and moving drama, and a triumph for Mark G. On the Friday, DWM held a birthday bash near St Paul’s. Steven Moffat got up and paid a funny heartfelt tribute to the magazine and its editor Tom Spilsbury. At the bar, I introduced Dominic May to Steven, and noticed Steven seemed far more chuffed finally to meet this illustrious name from fandom than Dom was to meet Steven.
The BBC’s mega event was The Doctor Who Celebration at the London ExCeL centre over the weekend of 22nd to 24th November. Again I was lucky to go behind the scenes with chums like Waris, Anneke and Katy. So many memories from that green room. Anneke hitting it off with Camille Coduri (Jackie Tyler), who was poorly. Darling June Hudson warming up the resolutely aloof Tom Baker. He grinned when I showed him the photos on my phone my mum had taken of us in the 70s. Justin introducing me to Bernard Cribbins. Having a coffee with William Russell, who was thrilled to be part of the 50th. He’d filmed a cameo as a BBC commissionaire in An Adventure and said he was delighted when his friends spotted the small acknowledgement I’d put in Radio Times.
During a break, a tiny elderly lady sat next to me on a ledge, exhausted and hungry, and I realised it was Debbie Watling (Victoria). I fetched her water and a plate of sandwiches. Then Kate O’Mara turned up. Her mates were annoyed that she hadn’t received an official invitation, but Kate was determined to join the party and entertain her fans. She’d glammed up but was evidently desperately ill and died four months later. What a glorious woman.
I chaperoned Waris round the ExCeL; he loved the re-creation of the junkyard from An Unearthly Child. Then I went round again with Anneke, who was like Alice in Wonderland, and we were admitted through the back door into the arena where Tom was, as usual, reluctant to appear alongside the other Doctors (Peter Davison, Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy) and had to be coaxed onto a couch by host Nick Briggs.
Compared with the Longleat fiasco 30 years earlier, the ExCel weekender was a triumph – although the old timers were run ragged and some chums told me they were extremely vexed by the rush back and forth to the BFI for the evening’s entertainment.
A terrific year of celebration rounded off in December 2013 with the BFI premiere of The Time of the Doctor, a Christmas episode and Matt Smith’s swansong. I sat with Anne and Paul from RT and hooked up afterwards with Katy and Justin and a Dalek in the riverside bar.
The past decade
2014 to 2023 has slipped past in a flash, a time vortex of its own, weirdly concertinaed by the COVID pandemic. In a change of flow, I’ll not proceed year by year now but by topic or person. No time to talk about my visit to Millennium FX in the very road where I grew up; how I reduced Frazer Hines to tears (of joy); met Azal the Daemon (Stephen Thorne), Fenella Fielding and June Whitfield all on the same afternoon; nor why the ace director Rachel Talalay posted me a fidget spinner. I’ll start with A…
A for Anneke
This remarkable woman – face of the 60s, great beauty, globetrotter, ashram dweller, artist, and for a year Polly in Doctor Who – now lives contentedly in seclusion on the edge of Dartmoor. My partner and I and our dogs have visited her many times for a bluebell walk across the tors, pub lunches, gossip and giggles, and we always depart from her spiritually recharged. Her garden is her pride and joy (as you will see in a coming Blu-ray film), and in 2014 she flattered me by asking me to photograph her domain, which I presented to her as a glossy photobook. I picture a beautiful day in 2016 when she and I wandered into an idyllic deserted quarry on the moor and lay in the sun on slabs of rock, while my dog frolicked in the lake. Dreamy days.
When I told Anneke I was writing this memoir, she surprised me by insisting, “You will put in that time we went to The Vine and got completely sloshed?” This wine bar in Kentish Town was a favourite haunt whenever she came up to London, just round the corner from a friend’s house. Not for the first time, Anneke and I had a largely liquid supper and soon got pie-eyed – I’m suppressing the photographic evidence – but she only had to stagger a few yards home, whereas I was ferried home and tumbled out of the car like Eddie in Ab Fab.
Mate in Chelsea
Waris has been one of life’s treasures since we met 15 years ago, a true friend and confidante, a joy to be with. We’ve shared holidays (New Year in Cornwall, summer in Shropshire), tackled all-day theatre and movie sessions, and enjoyed dozens of lunches at the Chelsea Arts Club. He gave a speech at my 50th birthday on the Thames, which made me blub. In 2018, he was thrilled to be the subject of a month-long season at the BFI and I attended many screenings with him. In 2021, he dug out his 1960s diaries and read extracts to me, hooting at his pithy turn of phrase but also aghast at the long-forgotten angst of his mid-20s. Only a few weeks later, I was upset when his partner Jean-Louis phoned to tell me that Waris had suffered a life-changing stroke in LA. But Waris being Waris – and greatly supported by Jean-Louis – he battles on, determined to live life to the full, and still travels between London and the US. He loves brandishing the flowery blue cane I bought him. (In 2023, RadioTimes.com published extracts from Waris Hussein’s 1960s diaries in a series of three articles.)
We rarely discuss the good Doctor but I’ll share one happy Who-ey memory from August 2015, when Doctor Who’s brand manager Edward Russell kindly invited Waris and me to Roath Lock Studios. We took the train to Cardiff to observe the filming of Peter Capaldi’s season finale, Hell Bent. As we wandered around the sets, I informed Waris he’d finally arrived on Gallifrey. “Where?” he said. Rachel Talalay greeted us warmly and seemed genuinely in awe of Waris, while Peter, a true star and gentleman, and life-long fan himself, suggested quietly, “Would you like to see the TARDIS?”
He led us to another studio where this fantastic set stood – an all-encompassing space and by far my favourite TARDIS interior. Its brilliant designer Michael Pickwoad hurried over, keen to show it off, and meet Waris, who long ago had directed his father, the actor William Mervyn. The publicity team took photos of Waris and Peter together, and I had a proper fanboy moment when Waris took my picture with Peter in the TARDIS. We assumed we’d be there all day but, with those money shots in the bag, we were happy to be ushered out. With time to kill, I took Waris round the Doctor Who Experience nearby on Cardiff Bay. He was bemused – and not for the first time startled by what a money-spinner the little show he’d helped create in 1963 had become.
Doctor Who – as Seen on TV
Actual Doctor Who on the telly during the past ten years has flown by like a whirlwind. As with any era, Peter Capaldi’s was hit-and-miss, though I appreciated his acerbic but heartfelt portrayal, its nods to Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker’s Doctors. When I first met Peter properly at the BFI premiere of Last Christmas in 2014, I gushed, “I really hope you stay for a very long time.” He raised an eyebrow and gave an inscrutable smile.
Steven Moffat wrote some mind-bending episodes for Peter’s Doctor – bold-concept classics such as the grief-laden one-hander Heaven Sent. It would be daft to hail Steven as a genius but he is indisputably an ingenious, extremely gifted writer – and, in person, I dare say has more than a few traits in common with Peter’s Doctor.
One of the most rewarding aspects of working for RadioTimes.com has been the space it’s afforded me to ask writers at length about the writing process. Russell T Davies was scintillating when he spoke in great depth about his series Cucumber, Years and Years and It’s a Sin. I’ve not yet had a chance to quiz him about Doctor Who but hope that will come.
I relished the two long sessions I had with Steven when he was showrunner, first at Brasserie Zedel in October 2015, then at the Wolseley in October 2017 for his exit interview. On both occasions after the first hour and several glasses of wine, any sense of structured interview dissolved into a good old fannish natter about the Time Lord – some of it unprintable – but I was struck by his analytical insight. The only other people I’ve had such intense Doctor Who discussions with are Richard Marson and DWAS founder Jan Vincent-Rudzki.
- 2015 Steven Moffat interview
- 2015 chat about the 50th special
- 2017 interview part 1
- 2017 interview part 2
Steven mentioned that his wife Sue Vertue had presented him with a full-size Weeping Angel – kept at a safe distance at the bottom of their garden – and I was amazed when he agreed to be photographed with it for an RT shoot in November 2015. Afterwards he emailed: “Thanks for printing what I actually said – you have no idea how rare that is. I appreciate the care and effort you put into that.”
In 2017, I was honoured to organise Steven’s induction into the Hall of Fame at the Radio Times Festival at the BFI – choosing clips and hosting his family and friends. It was a well-deserved and very funny tribute to his work, especially because his time on Who was ending. Often I’d been mortified seeing him after I’d given a less than glowing preview or review; I didn’t know whether he read them or not, but when he left the show, he said, “You were always quite fair.”
Later that year, I had one final, small but direct influence on a detail that appeared on screen. Peter’s finale Twice Upon a Time begins with a clip from The Tenth Planet (1966) of Hartnell, Anneke and Michael Craze in the TARDIS and a caption specifying just how many episodes ago this was. When the preview version came through to RT, I did a quick tot up, realised the tally was out by four episodes, and pinged an email to Steven. This initiated a flurry of comms between his right-hand man Brian Minchin and brand manager Edward Russell, before finally DWM editor Tom Spilsbury was drawn in. Tom concurred with my figure, so “705 episodes ago” was changed to “709” – a month before transmission.
The shake-up when Peter and Steven left was inevitable. It’s just part of the DNA of Doctor Who. On 24th September 2018, the new world was launched in Sheffield with the premiere of The Woman Who Fell to Earth – and my heart sank at the mediocrity on display. I didn’t hang around at the venue afterwards. I like Chris Chibnall, but feigning praise is not my forte. As the weeks progressed, I felt that Jodie Whittaker, though a gifted actor, was ill-served by the material. I have no problem whatsoever with the Doctor becoming female and rejoiced two years later when Jo Martin’s more assertive incarnation was thrillingly revealed in Fugitive of the Judoon.
Despite isolated successes (The Haunting of Villa Diodati), most of Whittaker’s run was low-wattage. During Chris’s tenure as showrunner I tried to find positives in my reviews for RadioTimes.com but, in general, despaired. I received messages of support from high-profile people associated with the series who were also tearing their hair out. Ending my review for the abysmal The Timeless Children in 2020, I suggested the future of Doctor Who should look to the emerging talent in Netflix’s sublime hit Sex Education. Evidently, I was not alone in that.
Those Radio Times
In September 2023, Radio Times has just celebrated its centenary – and I almost know how ancient that feels. I’ve been part of RT on and off for 40 years, seeing all the changes wrought by time, technology, editors and ownership. I’ve worked in all its HQs from Marylebone High Street, to Woodlands and the Media Centre (both on Wood Lane), and now Vineyard House on Brook Green. I’ve learnt a lot and made great pals there. I met my best female friend Judy Bow at MHS in 1987 and adore my current colleagues from the magazine and website, including fellow fans Ralph Montagu and the estimable Mark Braxton, whom I now call SVM.
It was a bittersweet day in 2015 when Anne and Paul took early retirement, and I asked Russell T to write a message for their leaving card. Which he did, beautifully. I still miss their presence in the office.
And it was a hugely sorrowful time in 2022 when Don Smith died aged 89. His weekly visits to our offices (thwarted only during the pandemic) were a highlight of our working life – even if his rambling anecdotes conspired against our deadlines. He was a true RT legend, an ace photographer and we all loved him.
Manning Moments
Where to end? In my childhood one of the key lures into the realms of Doctor Who was Katy Manning as Jo Grant. Now, by some miracle, she is my friend. Over the years we’ve shared so many joyful Manning Moments, as she calls them. She has her favourites and I have mine. There was our madcap day-trip to Paris on her 70th birthday in 2016, and last year our clambering, howling and zipwire-flying at Go Ape in Battersea on her 76th. BBC Proms concerts where we dissolved into uncontrollable giggles. Cinema outings that reduced her to tears. Quiet suppers where she’d confide something eye-popping – “strictly entre nous”. Racing with Ralph around Beaulieu in Bessie – the real one, not the lovely replica car seen on the Blu-ray sets.
One year she fought her way to my birthday picnic on Primrose Hill after an exhausting signing gig and a series of obstacles, and bowed out early saying, “Sorry darling, but I’ve hit the wall” (of endurance). A week later, as we were strolling through Portobello, we passed a collapsed wall, and I said, “Did you hit that too?” Cue bladder-defying hysterics.
My ultimate Manning Moment came when time collapsed in October 2020. In a lull during the pandemic, we were allowed to go filming in Aldbourne, the beautiful Wiltshire village where she’d shot my favourite Jon Pertwee story, The Daemons, 49 years earlier.
It was a glorious weekend. A shoot for one of Chris Chapman’s films going on the season 8 Blu-ray. We wandered round the village green, the church, the Blue Boar pub, drove round in Bessie and went up to the ancient barrows. On the final afternoon, we had a break, and I asked Katy if she would literally “hit the wall” for me. Just the two of us, away from the crew, the villagers and smattering of fans. We went up to the churchyard wall where she’d been attacked by foliage in 1971 and I took loads of photos and videos. We had such a laugh. She loved the pictures and now uses one for her publicity shot. The sun shone and I quoted my Doctor from the end of The Daemons: “There is magic in the world after all!”
*
If you’ve read to the devil’s end of this memoir, I congratulate you, though you’ll likely have heard quite enough from me on the subject of Doctor Who. I’ve been tumbling though the space/time continuum of this amazing programme for all of its six decades now, and have been moved to write about it across the last five – in my old bedroom, in fanzines, in Doctor Who Magazine and Radio Times. Thank you for reading my myriad articles. I’m in my late 50s now and intend to wind it down slightly, albeit leaving the door to the police box ajar. I’ll write the odd piece, short reviews and look forward to embracing whatever the future, the past and the present hold in the new era under Russell T Davies. As a naughty showrunner from the distant past once said, “Stay tuned…”
My Life as a Doctor Who Fan in full:
- Part 1 – the 1960s to 1974
- Part 2 – 1974 to 1981
- Part 3 – 1982 to 1984
- Part 4 – 1985 to 1989
- Part 5 – 1990 to 2012
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