Today I spent three and a half weird, inspiring and downright hilarious hours in the company of Tom Baker!I was 5 years old when he fell to his Anthony Ainley-authored doom and that, coupled with the odd chromakey glimpse of Sapphire and Steele, forms the entire basis of my early TV memories.
It goes without saying that I never imagined I'd get to meet Tom Baker, let alone work with him but both things happened today.
I'm delighted to report that Tom is a force of nature, a genuine charmer and a truly incredible storyteller. Although working with him in the studio (at University of Brighton, Hastings) was an experience in itself, the thing I will remember forever happened long after we'd finished recording.
At the end of the recording session, Tom announced that he wanted some chips and would we like to join him?
We walked into a greasy spoon full of unsuspecting lunchtime diners.
Every gaze in the room locked onto Tom. There were whispers. It couldn't be, could it?
As if everybody knew there was only one way to confirm it, a silence fell, clearing the way for...
...THE VOICE THAT MAKES CHILDREN OF US ALL.
Tom is totally aware of these pied piper powers and their magical effect upon people well into their 30s, 40s and 50s. The waitress giggled. Told him he looks a lot like Doctor Who. Tom Baker replied that she looks a lot like Sarah Jane. The waitress blushed. Then giggled again.
Every gaze in the room locked onto Tom. There were whispers. It couldn't be, could it?
As if everybody knew there was only one way to confirm it, a silence fell, clearing the way for...
...THE VOICE THAT MAKES CHILDREN OF US ALL.
Tom is totally aware of these pied piper powers and their magical effect upon people well into their 30s, 40s and 50s. The waitress giggled. Told him he looks a lot like Doctor Who. Tom Baker replied that she looks a lot like Sarah Jane. The waitress blushed. Then giggled again.
Reader, we spent the rest of the afternoon with Tom. Holding court. Eating chips. Drinking wine. Sharing stories. A few of us tried to match Tom's outrageous anecdotes with one or two of our own. He listened patiently. Then blew us away with some new, unprintable revelation about Francis Bacon. Or God. Or K9. Even Romana.
Deep down, we're still children, aren't we? We desperately want the extraordinary to intrude upon our lives. Some of us want to open the wardrobe door and find a forest inside. Others want to turn the next corner to find the blue box with the flashing light waiting for us.
Today, for 30 or so children in a seaside cafe, it was.
