So I finally got Netflix and I was watching Star Trek Voyager when I realized that … Holy Cow! I could be watching Dr. Who! So I started watching it with my son, who actually seems to enjoy it. In fact, he picked up a laser pointer that we use to play with the cat and proclaimed that it was his sonic screwdriver. He now “unlocks” all of our doors with it.
I’ve managed to get through the first two seasons and half of the third. (These being the set that started back in 2005. I might try the older generation later, but right now I’m too busy trying to catch up.) And I have to admit that I am still a Chris Eccleston fan. He played the Ninth Doctor and while I like David Tennant, the character sort of lost something in the transfer. Eccleston had more gravity to him. He felt a little more dangerous.
But, well, we’ll see how I feel after I’ve finally caught up on all the seasons. (I do have a loooong way to go yet.) I did cry at the end of Season 2, which startled my son enough that he gave me the pouty lip. I had to spend the rest of the night laughing and giggling with him about how Mommy got all emotional over a silly TV show. (He was properly assuaged via Oreo cookies, so I’m fairly certain he hasn’t been emotionally scarred.)
That said, I’m pretty much addicted to the show now. Thank you BBC, you give me all the fun stuff to love.