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What do we call this thing – New Doctor Who? Doctor Who:TNG? The Ninth Doctor? Well, let’s just call it Doctor Who, ‘cos that’s what it turned out to be.

Watching this new – in more ways than one – incarnation is a painful business for those of us who’ve held on to the old: one fourty-five minute episode is surely no replacement for a multi-part story, no matter how much of that may have been corridor-rushing, companion-rescuing padding; a TARDIS in modern-day London smacks all too much of the not-quite-managing-it faux-American style of Spooks and Hustle; the show’s reliance on the night terrors of the monster under the bed can’t hope to scare kids who’ve grown up on 18-certificate movies and the easy violence of the town centre.

So with all that against it, how can this possibly work? With surgery that’s been cruel but kind, the fat trimmed back and the muscle enhanced. There are some unfortunate necessities to this second coming, but we’re left with a continuation, not a restart, and the series in the best health its had for a while.

Specifics, then. I think it’s a shame that we get another Auton invasion as a virtual retread of the original, although I can see the need for a storyline that can be quickly established and dispatched while characters are introduced. Even discounting the fear that we might be in for a ST:TNG-style plundering of “original” series’ plots, it threw into sharp relief the difference between the slow-burning mystery of the Pertwee-era and this new breed of virtually instant plot resolution.

In amongst the commonly-held myths of wobbly sets and Blue Peter effects work, my favourite aspect of Doctor Who was always the exploration of a new culture or society and the gradual revelation that something was wrong. And that’s what I think I’m going to miss most of all about the new format’s pacing.

But, having said that, there’s a lot here that’s good. The Doctor and Rose are both strong and, in their own way, likeable – both suggest hidden depths, particularly with this almost Colin Baker-ish alien Doctor: the gag about his ears suggest the character’s as new as Eccleston is (Mark Benton’s conspiracy theorist may well have been tracing future activity, then).

Rose is nicely established and, more importantly, given no real reason to hang around. The useless boyfriend was a nice touch, and we certainly weren’t sorry to see the back of mum. The psychological impact of being swept away from home and family (let alone the whole aliens/time travel thing) on the Doctor’s companions was always something that was seemingly ignored by the series until, perhaps, the extended backstory of Ace.

I can’t really see what all the fuss was about with the TARDIS exterior – the new dimensions are a nicely chunky, but I really like the lit windows – and although the walls and console inside are fine, the flooring does look a little bit like, well, mesh covering flourescent tubes. While it’s great that we get the acronym clarified with a singular “Dimension”, it remains to be seen whether this TARDIS is more than just the console room…

Our introduction to the Doctor is carried out in brief bursts, and builds an impression of a gleafully smug, self-absorbed, glinty-eyed ancient youth with the fate of the world on his shoulders. Different iterations throughout the series have made his control over a damaged, outdated or restricted time machine more or less random: here the Doctor seems to have absolute control over the flight of his craft, but whether this will serve or hinder future plot points could go either way [I've become suddenly concerned that the time travel aspect may become critically weakened with a perfect degree of control]. I’m informed by them in the know that adventures will either be Earth-based or will at least use our planet as a home port, the better for viewers to relate in what has always been a very open-ended series.

We already knew that the logo wasn’t up to much, and while the theme is faithful I was hoping for something a little more gutsy – a bigger impact for this long-awaited return. The title sequence itself didn’t grab me at all: the mysterious, unfathomable abstract swirls of the Hartnell era have been completely forgotten, and we’re left with a rather obvious Stargate/Sliders tunnel effect. A badly-drawn face (with or without a wink) it may not have been, but I was pining for something as haunting and fresh as the original would have been in the 60′s.

Even accounting for another stab at the Autons, these ones seemed pretty poorly done – their heads seemed too large, like masks, where I distinctly remember the smooth, blank faces of the originals. The drop-away handguns should be a defining moment of otherworldly horror, but we don’t even get to see Mark Benton die (I’m assuming he does, right?). Will this Doctor Who not push the boundaries of teatime as the others before it?

My other niggles are purely in the realms of the way the BBC onlines its programmes: even though I’m prepared to grudgingly forgive Graham Norton repeatedly interupting the audio track in the first ten minutes (a live feed from Strictly Night Fever getting mixed in somehow during the basement sequence*) I could really do without a “next week on Doctor Who” bit tagged onto the end but before the credits – what’s with this culture of spoilers? Does everything need to be ruined in advance?

But really, I only grumble on because I care and I’m picky. Nothing beats the fact that, sat on the floor looking up at my telly, glowing in the darkness, I couldn’t help but smile. It felt right.

I don’t care if it doesn’t scare today’s hardened children, and I don’t really care that Doctor Who’s strange even-back-then format has been kicked into shape. All Beeb drama these days seems to have a touch of the eager to please about it, lost at sea amongst the infinite production values of US air superiority – but this one’s ours. The other side doesn’t have to get it (and, by all acounts, they’re not) and it retains the charm and willfully silly adventure of a quintessential part of British science fiction, even after a much-needed spring cleaning.

A perfect start was an impossible dream, and there’s still plenty to watch out for once the show takes its first steps beyond this opener. But it’s good to have it back, isn’t it?

(A brief addendum. I met Mike Tucker, of what used to be the BBC Visual Effects Unit, a couple of times back in the early nineties – he was dead miffed that he’d never get his name on the credits of a Doctor Who episode after the cancellation in ’89. Looks like that’s one more box ticked, Mike!)

* Although not everybody noticed it, I have my suspicions that this “accident” may have been an intentional slip-up designed to ruin a perfect soundtrack on any quote piracy unquote of the episode destined for, I don’t know, the internet. Just a thought.