I always had a good feeling that Peter Capaldi would be a good Doctor. Ever since I saw him announced on the BBC, clutching his lapels, the image of it made me smile. I even found all his previous work, I researched what I could find about his background as a fan, but after an initial google search I left it that. Back then, Doctor Who was just a show that I enjoyed on a casual basis. I watched it if I could, if I remembered when it aired live, I watched it at Christmas with my family, but nothing much more.
Then Peter came. Whilst some of his stories were difficult, I found him completely fascinating. You could tell he was a fantastic actor, and he understood the role from his toes to his greying hair, which only seemed to grow wilder with age. A clear lover of the classic doctors, inspired by Baker, Pertwee, Troughton and Hartnell, you could find this enthusiasm for the role in every performance.
And so, I was absorbed by this alien trying to find himself, always trying to keep his friends happy, hating being alone but pretending he could manage. His passion for the Earth, clouded by his dislike of human idiocy. By the end of series eight I was sucked in.
It was around the beginning of his second series the following autumn, that my personal life suddenly became a challenge. One of my family members, my nan, who was responsible for the creative person that I had become, was slowly dying of cancer, The big C. So my attention turned to this science fiction world to escape that harsh reality. On the surface, I supported my loved ones, whilst my mind was distracted by the Doctor’s latest adventure.
The end of series nine came. The Doctor lost his most recent companion. And I took away from that series, someone going through the many stages of grief: shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining, depression, reflection, loneliness, acceptance and hope.
And over Christmas that year, my nan’s illness was at a point of no return, and I never felt like I understood the Doctor more in those moments. That suddenly the world of my escapism and my real life became one. I lost her in January, and with that, the announcement that Peter was also going to leave after series 10. I was heartbroken, but I was determined then to meet him, before he did finally leave the show.
And I luckily had the opportunity March 2016. I rushed to London to buy my series 9 DVD box-set so I could join the throngs of people queing to meet Peter at HMV. My hands shook when they finally took my ticket to step forward. I remember David Bowie’s last album Blackstar had been playing, at his request, and when I met him, my mouth went dry.
Here I was, in the face of my hero, the man who had portrayed the Doctor and everything that I had gone through on screen with my nan and still was, and he was smiling at me and asking my name for the signature. I gave it, and then I babbled to him, not in detail, about how I had been going through a really dark time and that him and his Doctor had helped.
He looked up from my DVD, and that expression of kindness will live with me for the rest of my life, so sincere, his famous eyebrows raised high, a softness his version of the Doctor didn’t carry around so easily with him.
“Isn’t that what television is for?” He told me.
I agreed, my hands still shaking. They took my photo with him, one of hundreds of people he saw that afternoon, and on exiting to the lift from the autograph room, I burst into tears.
Here was this wonderful man, whom I had never met, that I had looked up to so sincerely for two years, and he had validated that it was okay to escape. That that was part of his job. To help me come to terms with any horrors that real life could scare up. That to indulge in the stories of an alien who travels time and space with his friends is and should be common place.
Yesterday was his final day as the Doctor, but for me, and for a lot of people I feel he will stand the test of time. Not perhaps because of the stories that he has been in, though his speeches have been incredibly powerful at times. No, Peter will stand the test of time because he is, and I feel will continue to be, the most wonderful ambassador for the show. I know I am not the only fan that he has helped this way. He’s filmed wedding videos, birthday messages, attended hospital visits, personal drawings sent as thank yous, staying longer than necessary to finish a panel or a signing even if it was in the middle of filming. My favourite: he learnt how to say thank you and speak in different languages in response to his own fan birthday video.
Honestly, the list of positivity is endless.
So, this article draws to an end, and Peter’s time as the Doctor also ends with it. By the time you read this, Peter will officially have passed his mantle to Jodie Whittaker. Whilst there is hope for the next series, I feel like I can say hand on heart that I as I say goodbye to Peter Capaldi, I do so with what I will consider acceptance and sprinkling of hope for what’s to come.
Thank you, Peter. Thank you for everything.
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