Contains mild spoilers
Splitting Doctor Who: The Space Museum across Saturday and Sunday afternoons, watching two episodes each day, worked quite nicely and suited the pace of this classic Who story. It begins with one of the best opening episodes in all of the Classic Series as the Doctor (here played by William Hartnell) and his three companions arrive outside the space museum of the title but are unable to make any impression on their surroundings. Apparently invisible, they leave no footprints in the dust and can put their hands straight through inanimate objects. The story is famous among Doctor Who fans for its very intriguing and atmospheric opening episode, only to become a slow-paced runaround (or crawl-around) in the remaining three. Due to William Hartnell taking a week of contracted leave (the show was in constant production throughout 43 weeks of the year in 1965), the Doctor is entirely absent from the third episode. While Barbara spends most of the time stumbling slowly through the gas-filled museum, the character of Vicki benefits most from Hartnell’s absence, organising resistance against the Moroks to prevent herself and her fellow time-travellers becoming exhibits in the museum. It’s a story that promises a sumptuous feast of strong science-fiction ideas only to deliver slightly moreish televisual comfort food.
My uncharacteristically fast voyage through the first series of Upstairs, Downstairs (Monday afternoon and evening) continues in the same vein. I’m now up to Magic Casements in the first series. It seems once I start watching this, it’s difficult to stop.
The fourth episode of The Last Place on Earth (Tuesday evening) was fairly gruesome in places, as we’ve got to the part of the story where the explorers must kill and eat their animals rather than keep extra mouths to feed. I am famously squeamish about blood and guts on the screen, but I think most would agree the horse decapitation scene added nothing, and the reasons why this prestige drama is not better remembered begin to stack up.
A newly researched guide to the first series of Robin Chapman’s elusive drama, The Man in Room 17
After a hasty run through four episodes of Nearest and Dearest, I’ve slowed the pace somewhat and opened another comedy avenue with John Sullivan’s Just Good Friends (Sunday night). I never really cared much for the series when I used to see bits on UK Gold back in the day. My recollection is Penny’s prickly and brittle character butting heads with the charismatic, carefree Vince and the rivalry between their respective parents. But that was a while ago, and I’ve since seen (and heard) Jan Francis in lots of other things that I really like (Secret Army, Casting the Runes, Welcome to Our Village Please Invade Gently), so I think I’ll get on better with this series now that I’m a more seasoned viewer. I remember the first episode quite well, as it turns out, so the true test is still to come.
The fourth series of Sergeant Cork (Friday afternoon) got off to a great start with Corky under suspicion of stealing money and forging evidence to implicate a suspect. It seems the stories are still as strong as ever, while Charles Morgan continues to play Inspector Rodway really well.
I wondered if I would notice when Sword of Freedom (Sunday morning) entered its second series. The answer is yes. We actually saw Marco casually dispatch a guard, and today Rodriguez stabbed someone in the back in cold blood. So, the answer is yes: it’s clear when the second series begins because the programme becomes more violent. Still great fun, though, whatever others may say.
Mr. Rose (Thursday afternoon) has been great fun, but one senses a little fatigue behind the scenes. I’ve just begun the third (and final) series, and it seems Rose’s driver, butler, and general all-round assistant, John Halifax (played by Donald Webster), has left and been replaced by Robin Trent, someone who takes casual 1960s misogyny to new, crass levels. Thankfully, William Mervyn is still on fine, fruity form as Mr. Rose, now planning his second autobiography. In the last episode I watched, he was brought in to help an actress when her nightclub was held up for protection money by a gang of villains. Guest starring Peter Madden and Harry Towb.
I keep meaning to watch the next episode of Man at the Top, but it’s quite heavy going sometimes so I have to be in the right frame of mind. I will check-in with Joe Lampton soon, as I’m curious to see what’s next for him now he’s got no job or protection from his influential father-in-law.
I will return to the original Battlestar Galactica. It still wakens memories of similar disappointments throughout my life, like the Planet of the Apes TV series, The Invisible Man starring David McCallum, and V: The Series. I will return to the Cylons-versus-the-colonists saga when the disappointment has faded, ready to enjoy the show for what it is.
The third series of Special Branch (previously recorded on videotape in a multi-camera studio) was produced by the all-film Thames TV subsidiary, Euston Films. I sometimes struggle with the output of Euston Films. Outdoor scenes look great, while interiors are all big door handles and cluttered surfaces. I may or may not go back to it.
NEXT WEEK
Catching up on the programmes I haven’t had time to watch; I get withdrawal symptoms if I don’t watch at least one episode of Danger Man in 14 days… Shockingly, my beloved Space Precinct hasn’t had a look in this week. That must be remedied stat… After the success of Nicholas Nickleby (BBC, 1977) my ‘Classic Serial Sunday’ will continue with another Dickens story, Hard Times (Granada, 1977), starring Timothy West, Edward Fox, and Patrick Allen. V: The Mini Series—the original, you might say—continues to go down well, as does my attempt to mimic the way in which V was often repeated on cable/satellite here in the UK, in ten fifty-minute (approx.) instalments. It’s one of those series where I always forget just how good it is. More on this next time… Probation Officer (ATV, 1958) is very hit and miss. I’ve watched four episodes so far; I was entertained by one, bored silly by another, and promptly forgot a third. But one episode was so good that it represents a high-water mark of quality drama, not only for this series but for others of the era, too. It really was that good.
That’s it for this week: a rather quick rundown of my self-curated classic television line-up. The last instalment of this viewing diary was all neatly formatted and available as a PDF File, so you might be wondering what happened. Fear not, it will return shortly in a new format. In the meantime, look out for my soon-to-be-published review of the 1972 Cold War thriller for young teenagers, Tightrope.
The Man in Room 17 Book
A newly-researched guide to the first series of Robin Chapman’s classic drama. Available to buy now in paperback and for Kindle. READ AN EXTRACT
The Story So Far
When linear television was at its height in the UK, with 60–80 channels to choose from (depending on regional coverage), I had my own schedule. Flitting between channels to catch my favourite programmes and using tapes from my video cassette collection when there was nothing else worth watching, it was a personal routine of programmes slotted in perfectly between school, friends, family commitments, homework, and my own projects.
Now, it’s my job, smallholding and home life that demand my attention. But I’m a creature of habit, so I absolutely need my routines.
This is the viewing diary that I keep for myself, but with added context and detail. You might notice that I like my TV shows to be aged to perfection, like wine. If you enjoyed this, consider a free subscription to future editions.
Phil’s childhood friend, old Mr. Murray, becomes an early owner of a brand-new video recorder—and everything changes from there.
Suitable for teens, and adults of (almost) all ages, this collection brings together ten different tales of comedy, mystery, and a touch of the uncanny.
Copyright Martin Gregory 2026
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