Yesterday was daughter number two's birthday. She has never forgiven me for this, but as I often remind her, if she hadn't decided to defer her entrance into this beautiful world for almost three weeks, then she wouldn't now be suffering the annual insult of, 'I've bought you a bigger Christmas present to cover your birthday'.
Because I do hold myself partly responsible for her eventual birthday, I always try and arrange something a little special for her, so that we can separate her birthday from all the Christmas pizazz going on around us. A few months ago, Tom Kerridge (Superchef, and adopted Marlow boy) announced that he was opening a pop up cinema for just two months in Marlow. Well, this sounded good, so after a quick ring around, I bought twelve tickets and sat back and watched as the whole event sold out within a space of days.
So last night was the big night. The cinema goers last night were me, the husband, daughter number one, son number one, daughter number two and the LSB, son number two and ELL, Miss R (she gets everywhere that woman), her friend Mr B, Wormy and his girlfriend Miss B (no relation to Mr B as it happens).
Walking into the cinema, I wasn't sure whether we had stumbled into a DFS warehouse, as there were rows upon rows of squishy red sofas lined up. There was a bar (never had that in my day, it was all Kia Ora and a bag of Revels) and we settled down in our sofas and waited for the main event. Here's the thing though. We were going to see Top Gun, a film I have never seen much to my family's disgust and shame. I probably had seen most of it at some time or another, just not all in one sitting, so when the husband found out that this was the film we would be seeing, he was overjoyed. His sister always tells me that he looked like Tom Cruise when he was younger, and I think that the husband now believes that he and Tom were separated at birth. Every now and again, I have had a tiny whiff of what his sister is talking about, it's the eyes I think. It's certainly not the bank balance or the penchant for strange religions.
So going back to the cinema, we had food delivered to our sofas which was excellent, as befitting Mr Kerridge, and ice creams brought round in the intervals. I had strawberry and honeycomb which was delicious and a far, far cry from the tiny one-mouthful pots which require a mortgage which cinemas seem to favour these days.
But what about the film, I hear you ask. Here goes..
1. Music all the way through in a film never bodes well - something to hide perhaps?
2. Tom Cruise was very young. Has he had his nose and teeth done since this epic? Not sure.
3. So sexist. Sent out a bad message to my kids (cougar/seamed stockings to work)
4. Too many planes and not enough topless beach volleyball for my liking
5. Bad pants (even Tom couldn't make those Y-fronts appealing)
But all in all, it was a fantastic night, and a throw back to the old days of cinema going. And this is what made it special, as it brought back memories of how good something can be if you are not just looking at a profit and loss account.
If you have the chance, you should go - I think that there were a few tickets left (Grease today - if only daughter number one had hung on in there for twenty four more hours).
And I still didn't manage to watch the film in its entirety.
I blame the Prosecco, the squishy sofa and cuddling up to my own Tom Cruise who has a very well padded left shoulder...