Friday, April 14, 2006

Jaws, Boys and A Forgotten Parent

I phoned my mum yesterday and mentioned that a friend and I would be going to the cinema next week. That set her off down Memory Lane, reminding me of a time thirty years ago when she was abandoned by her only daughter outside the cinema in Hastings.

We were on holiday in Hastings, my parents, grandparents, me and a school friend, Linda. Mum wanted to see Jaws but as nobody would go with her and she's not very good at finding her way around strange places, she asked whether Linda and I would take her down there and then meet her outside again when it finished. Sure, no problem! We'd go in a pub during the film (fifteen year olds could easily get served back then - nobody ever asked for ID) and be back in time for 10.00 when the cinema kicked out.

We found a pub in a back street about 2 minutes from the picture house, ordered ourselves a vodka and orange each (or was it a lager and blackcurrant?) and settled down to wait.

That's when it happened.

Two blokes--the most gorgeous looking members of the opposite sex we'd seen so far that holiday--came sauntering over.

"Mind if we sit with you, girls?" asked the tall blonde one, who I later learned was called Phil.

"Err..." Slight cough to clear the throat..."No, not at all. Here, take this chair." I patted the seat next to me, my brightest smile accompanied by wildly batting eyelashes.

He wore a black coat with a fake fur collar (listen, this was the 70s, right?) over a checked Ben Sherman style shirt and brown flares but he was no Jack-The-Lad; this guy was the sort you could take home to meet your mum.

Only I didn't. Take him to meet my mum, that is. In fact, even I didn't go to meet my mum.

Linda and I had become so absorbed in flirting that time flew by and Mum was completely forgotten. As it happened, it wasn't until chucking out time that we remembered we should have been at the cinema an hour earlier!

In the meantime, Mum had been standing outside the cinema, in the pouring rain, becoming increasingly worried for our safety whilst wondering how on earth she was going to get back to our holiday home in order to find out what might have happened to us. When we finally ran round the corner and along the road towards the cinema, a momentary flicker of relief crossed her face before it contorted into something altogether more unforgiving.

"Where the bloody hell have you two been?"

"Err... in the pub. Linda's watch stopped..."

"Don't bloody well give me that one, I've heard it before." She sniffed the air. "You've been drinking!"

"Yes, but we're not drunk and that's not why..."

"Well just get me home."

We walked to the bus stop and before long were back in the cosy confines of our holiday home, sitting in the living room with a cup of cocoa each, giggling and seeing the funny side of it.

Mum's not a bad old bird ;-)



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