Thursday, 23 January 2014

A simple visit to the movies. Whatever!

I am coming to the conclusion that everything is an opportunity to write. I am going to write a murder, in a cinema and the victims are going to be over seventy, killed with a block of Toblerone.

I went to the movies (pictures if you're English) with my husband and due to the fact that I reliably fall asleep in almost everything due to the darkness and often general boredom, we picked an afternoon showing of Jack Ryan. Sadly it was pensioner hour and the old dear to the left of me spent half an hour with wobbling fingers trying to open a very rustly mint to the point where I wanted to help. Like - really help! The couple behind didn't actually stop talking the whole way through which, being a little deaf was somewhat distracting for those of us who have perfect hearing. Why? Because they shouted to each other, a fairly continuous stream of  'What's he doin' now?' follow by inappropriately timed cackles of laughter (as if someone being blown up is funny.)

Kenneth Branagh not only starred in the movie, he also directed it. We know that because the whole way through, Mr and Mrs Hardofhearing behind us shared a loud discourse of, 'What's that guys name?' Alas if only they had waited until the final credits, they would have had that little mystery cleared up, because it came up first on the list but no, they were off and running, zimmer frames wafting in the air as they made a dash to be first in the toilets. The whole point of that exercise was so that they could occupy them until those of us with a distance to travel had either wet ourselves, or gone home cross legged.

I did consider crawling out of my seat and fetching an attendant at one point. But I actually didn't think they would believe me and come to my aid. I also debated whether or not to ask the offenders to be quiet (politely) but cringingly contemplated the shouted, 'What? What you sayin' dear?' which might ensue and so it hardly seemed worth it.

I have a personal abhorrence of badly behaved children. Mine weren't allowed to be naughty and so I don't think that other people's should be allowed to either. But as I looked around me this afternoon I wondered if the world hadn't gone a little upside down in its perspective. If we effectively lead by example, then judging by the little band of rabble raisers this afternoon, there is a whole troubled generation about to unleash itself on us!

The next time an elderly person says to me, 'You couldn't get away with that in my day,' I sweetly and nod. Because after all, it's someone's granny isn't it. But I will avoid matinees and continue to fall asleep in expensive premieres and snore and dribble through 3D sittings. Until I am old that is. And then I'm gonna get me some fun!