Wednesday 4 December 2019

I Walk The Line

There's been a lot of talk on social media recently about self-service checkouts.

Possibly not the most vital subject in the world, certainly further down the chain of importance than achieving world peace, stopping climate change and free asparagus for the under 5s (you know it makes sense), but contentious nonetheless.

The main gist of this talk has fallen into two categories:
#1 - it's putting people out of jobs so you should use the manned kiosk instead
#2 - I'm not paid to work here - you should pay someone to do this for me

Of the two above arguments I suspect that what's behind door number two is a bit more truthful.  Let's face it - I've been getting cash out of a hole in the wall for a good thirty or so years and have not been into my local branch for at least 15 years (other than to steal one of those pens-on-a-chain they always have), thus putting many a potential cashier out of a job and now, increasingly, I am paying for things with a jaunty little tap or a swipe of my card and, by dint of doing so, presumably putting the people who fill the holes in the walls jobs into jeopardy as well.

This is, of course, because cash out of a hole in a wall, or even better magical cash produced with a swipe, is less of a hassle for us than going into a queue, filling in a slip, handing it over to a person, having to make idle chit-chat about the weather whilst the lady with a life-savings worth of two pence pieces chooses peak time to deposit them...and this is why i suspect that reason two is the truth because of course having to swipe and bag our own purchases is less convenient to us so why should we have to do it, right? (What do we want? More shop assistants, when do we want them?  At sensible shopping times in accordance with our working and leisure needs!)

But none of the above is my problem with the machines - it's that because of their placement we British are losing our ability to queue.

There are many things that are, despite all the evidence to the contrary, known internationally about the British: We're all cockneys and talk like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins (caw bloimey Muuury PoppIns, ows yer father, let's have a sing around the owld pianna), we wear bowler hats and carry umbrellas everywhere and look like Jacob Rees-Mogg, we're awfully polite and drink tea and we can queue like there's no tomorrow with nerry a sigh or complaint

But the positioning in shops of these new-fangled gadgets is spoiling this because they are usually placed in a corner that is near, but not inline with, the regular tills.

Now what should happen in a fair and just society is that everyone would join a single queue - and when either a machine or a cashier becomes free then you should go to that accordingly - however, because the line of approach is not consistent or clear you find people suddenly pushing past you and moving to form seperate sub-queues.

Being British, no one complains or even raises an eyebrow - there might be a slight "tsk" of disapproval but even that is stretching things to the limit.

I mention this in passing because just this week, for the first time in 20 years, I had occasion to fly somewhere from a plane station (and why are they called Airports when train stations aren't called train ports that's what i'd like to know).  It was an economy flight - one of those in a rotor-blade plane with Amelia Earheart behind the wheel - the type where everything, including your seat, is extra.  The flight was only an hour but as we taxied down at the next air station (I'm sticking with it, it's a thing OK?) and people began walking along the concourse we turned a corner and there, under the signs for Arrivals, was a nice, orderly queue of people.  The type of queue that makes one nostalgic for days gone by.

And so, being British, I joined it and politely stood in line for a good five minutes as a few of the other passengers continued past and around a corner - assuming that they had paid some additional fast-pass exit fee that i knew my company would have not paid (That Pixie can stand and queue, my boss would have said, twirling his hipster moustache)

It was a full five minutes before the queue started moving and, at that point, i realised what i was actually standing in was the queue to board a plane back to where i had just come from

Quietly, and with as much dignity as i could salvage, i made my excuses to the man in front of me and stepped out of the queue and around the corner.  I didn't look back to see if anyone else would follow me

Sunday 17 November 2019

The Greatest Show, Man!

It is awfully remiss of modern day planners to build new Cinemas on public rights of way.

At least: I assume that's what's happening.  There seriously can't be any other reason for the constant march up and down the stairs during every single bloody screening.  Honestly, if a small train of donkeys came through heavily laden with baggage and led by Shirpa Tensing I would barely bat an eyelid.

Cinema is not how I remember it as a kid: and since the temporary hiatus of my favourite cinema (a small screen at a local university where they show what I like to call FROMAGE films - that's Foreign Road Movies About the Grimness of Existence), where you get a very cine-literate clientele who arrive before the adverts, ensure their snacks are finished before the main event and refrain from talking, snap-chatting or whispering plot-points to each other, I have been forced to go to screenings at (shudder) the multiplex.

Things were very different back in the stoneage when I was briefly young (I was old at a very early age) - there were three main cinemas in our local city centre: the ABC (one big screen, one tiny screen - queueing was down the flight of stairs outside, often in the rain, and down the street all the way to the flag-post and if you were beyond that you might as well go home), the Odeon (former theatre, a shocking three and later six screens) and the Theatre One (known locally as The Flea Pit, two screens - both slightly smaller than the ABC equivalent, with no leg space aside from those who were able to take them off and store them under their seat) - there had also briefly been the Paris (but that closed down) and another on the outside of town that I forget the name of as we only ever went there once before it was a casino....

Things started to change when the ABC was taken over by a big chain that subsequently over-stretched itself and closed down.  This was the cinema where I saw E.T., Back To The Future, Top Gun and all those Buster Keaton that I improbably also claim to have seen when first released(and that one about the moon having a face - pretty impressive when it first came out)

Then the Odeon first expanded and then moved to another location with 9-10 screens and suddenly the idea of queuing for a ticket became a thing of the past - you could book on-line (shudder).  Of the several cinemas in the area this is now the only remaining one.

These days I tend to go mid-week to see films - just because Fridays and Saturdays are still full of the aforementioned clan of wondering locals, out for a brief foray across the fens, stopping for a meal in the middle of the cinema and apparently unable to sit still for more than two reels of a movie - but I do think that cinema has lost a certain something - and it wasn't until my cat was ill that I realised what it was....

And yes, you read that right about the cat.

In the early spring of 2018 Mr Giles suddenly started going what is known in the cat world as "cracker-cat" - he was eating 3-4 times his usual amount of food, dashing about with too much energy and suddenly launching himself at me and biting - something he hadn't done previously.  This was Concerning.

We took him to the vet and they diagnosed him as having a thyroid problem - apparently something that is quite common in cats.  There were three potential options for treatment. 1) Operation - slightly risky, medium chance of success, 2) pills for the rest of his life - less risky, more upsetting for him and us and also ongoing, 3) radiation treatment - most effective, most expensive.  After a few moments of wondering what kind of super powers one might expect to get when bitten by a radioactive cat and who one's arch-nemesis might be, we went with option 3

This meant Mr Giles had to be away from us for several weeks whilst he was in almost total isolation and then, once he came home, we were to only spend up to one hour a day with him for the next 10 days.

To be honest this was quite upsetting for all three of us - Mr Giles wanted to be around us and to re-build the bonds and we wanted the same.  It also meant locking him out of most of the house - or else vacating the property for several hours.

Over the weekend was going to be the worst bit - I could go into the office the rest of the time and Herself could work around it - but I had a whole Sunday to fill - and so I went to see Avengers: Infinity War.

I have to say - I have not been following the series and there were several previous films I hadn't seen - but at 3.5 hours it filled an otherwise difficult activity shaped hole in my life...and as part one of a two part film it left me with a problem of having to see another film that I hadn't really intended to see twelve months later.

And so, this year, and with cat duly fully recovered and back to usual levels of sanity (for a cat) I found myself needing to go and see how it all ended.

As it happened: I had some training to do in London and an evening to look forward to sitting on my own in a hotel room - and so I booked a ticket for a screening of Avengers: Endgame and went along

It was the first sold-out screening I have been to in around 30 years (with the possible exception of Vampire$, which doesn't count because it only got sold out because The Blair Witch project had already sold out and people had bought tickets rather than go home (don't bother, it's terrible))

And this is where I come back to my feeling that I started off with

The problem with the multiplex, as opposed to the old fashioned ones I remember, is that they show 20-30+ screenings of the latest film per day on their 12-20 screens.  This inevitably means that most of the time the screen is half empty  (more recent example - I went to see Doctor Sleep and there was only me and one other person in the screening) - and the thing that you get from a full screen just isn't there.

Seeing films like Back To The Future, Blair Witch, Terminator - whatever, in a full screen means that you laugh harder, jump higher, cry more than you do when its half empty - and as I sat in a sold-out screening of Endgame with fans whooping, cheering and clapping in a non-code-compliant but nonetheless appropriate manner, I remembered what going to the cinema was supposed to feel like

Cinema is a great medium.  You can see all sorts of films there and I like to try and see something different from time to time (a recent trip to see a black and white film about Cornish fishermen for instance....which I still don't know whether I enjoyed or not) - but I do think that by treating it in the same casual way that we treat something on the telly, or our Ipad (other pads are available) we forget to let ourselves go for that moment and enjoy the magic.

So next time you go to the cinema get your snacks early.  Go and see the terrible adverts for over-priced snacks and films you will never see.  Don't leave until after the final credits - even when they DO bring the lights up

And if you really do feel the need to go for a walk: get it out of the way before you start....

"Oooooh I love to go a wandering...along the mountain track..."