THE MOONBASE

My father narrowly escaped being injured by a falling section of the ‘Gravitron’ weather machine that had been built for The Moonbase. Whilst inspecting the studio layout before recording, he was nearly squashed flat by metal and wooden pieces that had previously been suspended from the studio roof. I remember the shock in his voice as he described to the family what had happened,

‘I was inspecting the weather thingy machine that moved up and down on cables…you know having a good look to familiarise myself with it so I knew where to stand, when it was flown in and out of the scene. As I turned to go out of the studio for a cup of tea, there was the most awful crash behind me and the whole Gravitron prop had smashed to the ground. My instinct made me dive forward and I hit the ground really hard…’

He then proceeded to proudly lower his trousers to show us a huge purple bruise on his left buttock!New

THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMEN

This would have been my second visit to the Doctor Who set and David’s first. The plan was to travel up with Dad, stay a couple of days in the unit hotel and then return back to Mill Hill by train. Unfortunately on September 2nd, just two days before we were due to go, my brother came down with a high temperature and flu. The trip had to be cancelled and I still haven’t forgiven David to this day!

As it turned out the filming week was a nightmare anyway with persistent driving rain for three days and freezing cold howling northerly winds. The only warm people on those Welsh mountains were the actors who wore the Yeti costumes.

FURY FROM THE DEEP

Dad had needed plenty of adrenaline during the filming of Fury from the Deep, which took place on an old disused sea fort in the Thames Estuary. My father was terrified of heights and suffered severely from vertigo. Just standing on a chair would make all the blood drain from his face. He was very embarrassed by this problem and so kept it a secret, with only a few of his close friends and family knowing the truth. So when he was asked to get into a helicopter and be flown around by a stunt pilot, director Hugh David was surprised at Pat’s reaction,

‘No Hugh, not on your nelly! I’ve climbed up and down ladders on this bloody fort all day, stood looking out over a fifty foot drop to the sea without flinching and now you want me to go up in that contraption and do my own stunts? No way!’

I remember watching the helicopter sequence when it was transmitted during March. It had been very well edited so you couldn’t tell that Dad’s bits had been shot firmly on the ground with the poor cameraman being pushed around in an old pram. Fury from the Deep was one of my favourites. I remember Dad’s reaction on seeing the seaweed monster for the first time,

‘I found it difficult not to laugh. There was this man dressed in a skin diver’s outfit on which had been stuck what looked like spaghetti. Hugh [director] was smiling too!’

THE INVASION

The first studio for The Invasion began on 20th September. For this sixth production block the suggestion of fewer episodes per season, originally discussed between my father and Barry Letts, was now implemented. This was an enormous relief to my father and Frazer since it meant pre-filming would no longer cut into important rehearsal time. They would also have the luxury of six weeks between taping and transmission to cover illness or production problems.

Pat remembered, 

‘Starting again on the thrid season was rather like jumping on a running bus. I remember that Monday, Tuesday…Monday we read it, Tuesday rehearsed it, Wednesday rehearsed it, half day Thursday then you were on Friday. We filmed every fortnight, and in the end, Frazer and Wendy and I had a sit-down strike and said, ‘We’re not going to film at the weekends, because we’re getting tired irritable.’ We had a big conference, Shaun Sutton took us out for a lovely meal, tried to talk us out of it, and we said ‘No!’ – and in the end the planners, those chaps up in the sixth floor with their little maps and flags all arranged in lovely patterns but who don’t know much about the actual working of a play, they changed their minds.’

THE TWO DOCTORS

After working with my dad on The Two Doctors, Colin Baker described Pat’s Doctor as,

‘A walking junk heap of disorganised mayhem, self-deprecating, affecting those delightful moments of utter dismay and panic, he lurched through space and time, not so much as the ‘cosmic hobo’ but more as an unlikely cross between Don Quixote and Machiavelli. It was a stunning characterisation, which at once made his successors’ tasks much easier and much, much more difficult. Easier because Pat had established the concept of regeneration instantly, by virtue of his great talent and commitment and had accordingly been accepted by the viewing millions – but more difficult because, to coin a cliché, ‘Follow that!’ ’

Of the man himself he said,

‘My impression of Pat then was and remained that of a ‘gentle’ man in the true sense of the word. A kind man, of strongly held principles, who felt no need to dominate others but was secure in himself, thereby of course drawing others to him like a magnet. He could also be wicked in the nicest possible way – and often was. You only have to ask Debbie Watling or Frazer Hines what it was like to work with Pat to be regaled with the most amazing and outrageous stories. Having worked with Pat and Frazer on The Two Doctors, I believe them!’