Doctor Who- the first woman doctor.

Doctor Who - the first woman doctor.

It's hard to imagine what HG Wells would have made of Doctor Who. Would he have sighed reflectively, raged disapprovingly or just harrumphed his disgust at the sheer nerve of using an old blue police box as the main headquarters of an imaginary time travelling machine in some remote century from way back when?

But tonight BBC One welcomes back one of its old friends from its black and white days. Doctor Who is back on our TV screens and for the first time in its escapist science fiction history a woman will become the new Doctor. As the trailer for the programme has repeatedly told us this is not before time, the implication being that men have had it their way for too long and it's about time that the female sisterhood had a go.

For the first time in the lifetime of Doctor Who those stuffily conservative and sexist barriers are about to come crashing down and a woman will step into the academic boots of the good Doctor Who. If this is to be seen as a dramatic breakthrough then so be it because the days of the Old Boys Network are long gone and now the time is right for an sharp injection of feminine glamour, flirtatious fluttering of eye lashes and girl power with a very robust Yorkshire charm.

The new Doctor Who is one Jody Whittaker, who just happens to come from Yorkshire, a woman who will presumably take no nonsense, asserting her presence almost immediately and making sure that nobody will ever get the better of her. Whittaker, who recently appeared in the ITV drama Broadchurch, is the latest in a long and celebrated line of Doctor Whos and will undoubtedly have been informed and swotted up on the traditions of a TV institution that stretches back to 1963.

From its earliest days of scary shock horror monsters, weird and wonderful creatures to some of the most richly memorable action scenes Doctor Who was, and still is, compulsive watching for those who love to be scared witless and subsequently hide behind the sofa. From those peculiar looking figures known as the daleks to the more recent cybermen there is something about Doctor Who that demands you suspend your belief and pretend that you simply bite your fingernails or cover your hands over your eyes, quivering with fear and hoping that you won't be afflicted with nightmares.

The first doctor was William Hartnell, a rather lofty and upper class doctor who seemed to find the whole idea of being a science fiction doctor perhaps beneath him. Hartnell of course had the audacity to appear in Doctor Who rather than celebrate my first birthday so the benefit of the doubt will certainly be given to him. Hartnell, so it seems, looked as though he belonged in some aristocratic BBC period drama- perhaps the Forsyte Saga or a Dickensian adaptation.

When Patrick Troughton took over several years later some of us were running around their parents garden and riding on our bikes around our neighbourhood. So Troughton remains outside any of my personal recollections but he did look a rather sinister and suspicious character full of cleverly devised schemes to take his assistant back to Victorian or Georgian times and then wondering how to get back to the present day.

My first distinct memories of Doctor Who were those of Jon Pertwee's making. For somebody who wouldn't have known one tardis from another and thought daleks were strange, alien creatures from another planet, Pertwee explained everything to the totally uninitiated. Pertwee had that wild thatch of curly blond hair that seemed to be engaged in a permanent fight with itself. Pertwee wore that very expensive velvet mauvish coat and always seemed to be running away from something or somebody.

But Pertwee was my first window on the TV family tea time Saturday favourite that eventually established a very warm spot in our hearts. Pertwee was posh, quintessentially English, spoke with that very cut glass 1950s English accent and always had that air of distinction about him that almost defined him as Doctor Who.

In later years the good Doctor took on us the most magical mystery tour of Doctors. There was the wonderfully eccentric Tom Baker who presented the nation with one of the dottiest but enchanting of scarves which seemed to go on for ever. There was Sylvester McCoy another science lab boffin who scuttled around restlessly. forever goofy but eternally lovable. Peter Davidson was rather more laid back and sedate, well intentioned, presentable, always calm and restrained even if under attack from the daleks.

Briefly there was Colin Baker or at least it seemed that way and then suddenly the good Doctor Who packed away his stethoscope and crazy sci fi instruments, leaving the country for far too long. The days of travelling through time and crash landing in some bizarre location, had now passed their sell by date. Doctor Who had now left our TV screens for what must have been an eternity but one day.... well, who knew it at the time?

And then as if by some miracle Doctor Who, after a considerable and unaccountably lengthy absence from BBC1, landed its tardis on our telly screens at the beginning of the new 21st century which in retrospect sounds like an irony in its own right. It was rather like a very old college friend had moved in down the road and had amiably shaken our hand. The reconciliation was now complete and Saturday tea times would feel like some nostalgic reunion.

Christopher Eccleston was the first Doctor of the new century but the Doctor Who theme and its content had remained intact and allowed to flourish like a springtime tulip. Eccleston embraced the whole Doctor Who brand name with open arms and an equally as open mind. Eccleston was superbly organised, witty, splendidly snobbish and hilariously haughty into the bargain. Once again Eccleston tackled and conquered the daleks, cybermen and any other abstract obstacle that fell across his path.

Then there followed my personal favourite from recent Doctor Who vintage. David Tennant was a fresh faced Scotsman who spoke flawless English. Tennant captured the essence of what Doctor Who and his distinctive role as the character, represented. Tennant was smooth, suave, intelligent, humorous and unflappable, a doctor who took on all of the responsibilities of being Doctor Who seriously but not that seriously. He was both cool and diplomatic but never arrogant.

And so it is that the nation holds its breath for the welcome return of Doctor Who. After Matt Smith and Peter Capaldi did complete justice to the doctor, now we await Jodie Whittaker. It does seem that  the programme may continue for as long as it possibly can. Of course there is a demand for spinning old police boxes that swirl around in the ether and land quite suddenly on Henry the Eighth's banqueting table. Of course we need an imaginary Doctor to battle the Roundheads and Cavaliers and we must insist that he nip into the Battle of Hastings if only as an interested observer.

After a 56 year residence on our TV screens Doctor Who is ready to take its place comfortably in the living rooms of Britain and eventually the world. It still seems strange that after all that time new generations have discovered and re- discovered something that may never lose its appeal or lustre to all families and of course children.

Later this evening a woman will become the first female Doctor Who and millions of girls who could only have dreamt that the nation's most familiar doctor should be female is now both strongly identifiable and imprinted on their memories for years to come. Some of us though are still cowering behind the sofa because years ago we were traumatised by Doctor Who's take on John Wyndham's The Day of the Triffids. It left us shocked and stunned for many years and we'd like to know whether we can come out of our hiding place. Maybe this long running classic should perhaps should be known as Doctor Why. Those daleks have a lot to answer for.