Me: Andy, it's cheaper if you come to the cinema with me. It's £5 for both of us and £5.95 for just me.
Andy: Really? What do you want to see?
Me: Les Miserables.
Andy: Here's 95p. Knock yourself out.
Harrumph. Nae-pal cinema in the middle of the day for me then.
Ravaged by illness over Christmas (I was! Ask anyone. Apart from maybe my nearest and dearest who would claim I was 'at it'), I feel I haven't seen as much of the real world as I should. So I went to Clydebank. Have you ever been to Clydebank? No? Really?? It's home to, erm, um, a Wilkinsons and The Best Pound Shop In The World Ever.
And a cinema. Ticket bought, I headed for Cinema 5, my Christmas chocolates hidden in my handbag next to a half box of tissues- I'd seen the stage version, I knew this was going to be a grim affair. Thing is, I went in just as they switched off all the lights in anticipation of the 'papapapapapapapapapapa, papapapapapaaaaaaaaaa PA!' Pearl and Dean song and the place was in pitch darkness. I couldn't see the screen, let alone the seats, and as, they weren't in any hurry to start the trailers, I carefully felt my way down the aisle. I reached a suitable row, turned right and sat down......in an old man's lap.
His wife nearly died laughing.
I nearly died of embarrassment.
My new boyfriend just nearly died. He was very slight. He's still very slight and a little bit broken.
Red-faced and mortified, I found an emptier seat, sank into it and promptly sobbed my way through Les Mis. Have you seen it? It's exceptional and, as I am currently suffering from my second bout of sinusitis in as many months, all my unfettered crying really cleared out my tubes. Having used up all my tissues, I crawled out into the Clydebank dreichness, eyes, nose and patchy bits of my face all red and shiny. Fitted right in.
Lastly, decided to leave my husband and move in either with Hugh Jackman or a bunch of impossibly handsome French revolutionaries.
Au revoir et vive la revolution!
Luv Egg on a Stick x