February 9th, 1985 was a Saturday. I know this because it was a special day in my life, and much of it has remained emblazoned upon my mind for decades. I also looked it up before writing this, so there's that. Why do I remember it so well? Why, I'm glad you asked. Let me tell you about it. As many friends and family know, Doctor Who has long been one of my favorite television shows. Specifically, its run from 1963 - 1989. The series was revived in 2005 and, while I've enjoyed parts of it, it just hasn't been the same as it was when I was a kid. The original show was serialized, with multi-part stories which always ended every episode (except the concluding one) on a cliffhanger. Classic Who was made on a shoestring budget, with tatty special effects, dodgy costumes, and sets that wobbled so much at times you wondered if they might fall down. And I loved it. The stories were engaging, and the circumstances of its production allowed one to use their imagination to fill...