I’d stumbled upon the first trailer of Doctor Who – the 2005 one, featuring Christopher Eccleston as the iconic time traveler Time Lord, while doing some research for a casino review.

It was completely unknown for me – I wasn’t born in the UK, so the adventures of The Doctor were out of reach for me. But when I laid my eyes on the first episode, complete with all the walking plastic mannequins and the crazy antics of the title character, I instantly fell in love with the story.

At the end of Season 1, when I saw The Doctor suddenly transform into a completely different man, I was a bit disappointed. But it only lasted until Christmas, when David Tennant roared “I don’t know!”

At that moment I knew that the new character will be up to the task. And he performed better than I expected. I consider the Tenth to be the best one of all the Doctors I’ve ever seen.

But all good things must come to an end. David Tennant has moved on to different roles (although for Whovians he will always remain The Doctor), and Matt Smith took over the iconic police box. Once again, he was a very different character – childish and clumsy at times, old and wise at others. He had his funny moments. And even if he had some big shoes to fill, he was up to the task – the seasons featuring him were almost as memorable as all the others.

After a brief intermezzo, featuring John Hurt as the War Doctor, the Matt Smith era came to an end. The next season – the eighth of the revived series – saw The Doctor become gloomier and darker (which was not a bad thing). But there was something amiss. There was something that failed to glue me to the screen like the previous seasons did.

Steven Moffat has done a great job with Sherlock, and most of his Doctor Who episodes were still great. But the departure of Russell T Davies seems to have extracted some of the show’s heart; maybe the glue that made me stick to the screen.

I’m a huge fan of those first few seasons of the revived Doctor Who series, but that’s about it for me.