Day 264. Beyond the photographs are posters,
presumably of films that are being shown. The graphics and style are just so
evocative of a time as are the titles. ‘2001: A Space Oddity’, ‘Funny Girl’ and
‘Carry on Up the Khyber’. This was the diet of the day in a time when there was
more communal contact. A common language developed through shared experiences. I
gaze almost reverentially wondering where my own memories of this come from.
Something is drawing on a deep pool of thought and emotion and I’m not sure how
comfortable if feel. Is there something I am hiding from myself?
Day 265. My eyes have grown accustomed to the dark
and I can see much better now. My concentrated gaze at the posters had shut out
the noise but now as I turn away I can hear the sound of sirens and shouting
outside. I move quietly across the lobby to the most wonderfully carved wood box
office. The glass whilst dirty has not been broken and has the circular hole cut
out to allow people to converse and the gap at the bottom for money and tickets
to cross. I pause as I see the ticket prices. Top seat four shillings and ten and half pennies. It is a long time
since I thought of half pennies and I can almost feel my pockets begin to fill
with shrimps, black jacks, fruit salads. A wave of nostalgia almost drowns me
in sadness.
Day 266. The thoughts of simple sweets means I stand
staring into the grave of my childhood. Where did it go? What happened to the
innocence of summer holidays, the belief in Christmas, the love of best friends.
To run as fast as you can, to jump from a chair believing you could fly, to
believe, to believe. The sound of the hoardings being rattled brings me back to
the right now. What has been happening to me? I am so confused by my recent
past. I slowly open the door to the box office and creep in.
Day 267. There is a door at the back of the Box
Office that leads into another room. The back room is just about lit by the diffused
sunlight from the foyer. I feel my way in and shrink back against the wall holding
my breath and praying for them to go away. The rattling continues but then a
voice shouts and there is the sound of running feet and then silence. I breathe
out and feel my body relax.
Day 268. The room is too dark for me to make out
very much but I can see a small box of matches under the desk of the box
office. I step out into the foyer and pick them up. They rattle as I lift them.
I slide the box open and realise it has been a lifetime since I saw this brand
of Lucifer. Then the stab of frustration. Why the hell do people put spent
matches back into the box. I tip them out onto the counter and find two that
have not been struck.
Day 269. I need to make some form of a torch. I take
the brown paper wrapping from around the candles that were by the box of
matches and twist it to make a wick. I now need some cloth and stick. It will
be a little ‘burn the monster’ but it should ….. I look back at the candles.
There is an old expression but I can’t remember what it is. I pick up one of
the candles and place it carefully upright on the wooden counter.
Day 270. Now in a film the first match would break
and the second light and then either fizzle out or fizzle and then spark back
into flame. Life is not like the movies. The first match catches as if new and
the candle flame glows. It is not a blinding light but it will allow me to
explore. I stuff the other candles and the remaining match into my pocket and
turn once more to enter the darkened room.
Day 271. The candle light flickers over the darkened
room and I can begin to make out what lies in there. There are four wooden
trays with the fabric bands to go round the neck. I recognise them from a past
when they would have been packed with sweets, drinks and ice creams. The ushers
would bring them down the aisles. Now all of that ‘theatre’ is done in the
foyer. I can remember when the trays became plastic and sponsored by ice cream
companies but these are an original beautiful rich wood that even the layers of
dust can’t hide. I lift one of the straps but it falls apart in my hands much
as memories do.
No comments:
Post a Comment