Cinema picnic

In order for you to fully understand the importance of this little tale, some back story first. In my childhood in South Africa, cinemas were fiercely protective of their right to fleece their customers by charging them extortionate prices for essential movie-viewing snacks. Patrons were forbidden to carry any food or drink into the cinema, and I remember many a time when we'd decide to watch a film after having been shopping, and having to have our bags locked away in the manager's office before being handed our ticket stubs and escorted into the Ster Kinekor premises. As a result, there was a piercing illicit thrill to smuggling cheaply-bought munchies in with us whenever possible, concommitant with the risk of being ushered out without refund should we be caught.

The British, I'm increasingly reminded, are more relaxed about such things. You wish to have a glass of wine in the park with your friends? No problem, just don't cause a disturbance. You want to cool off by jumping into this public fountain? Okay, make it quick, as long as you don't offend anyone. So, when a friend and I decided to watch Kung Fu Hustle last night immediately after work, I thought I'd pick up a decent dinner-sized, picnic-style meal for us to enjoy while we were entertained by the zany goings-on on-screen. Some rolls and a selection of cold meats, a bag of tortilla crisps, some marked-down custard tarts and a 4-pack of Heineken seemed a reasonable spread, and I arrived at the theatre, left a seat between us as a table, and laid out our meal. Glenn's growing amazement as I unpacked was ample evidence that he had not truly understood what I meant by 'dinner snacks' and has not yet come to terms with the less oppresive London culture.

Neither have I, it must be said. Not fully, anyway. That old rebellious thrill is still there, the perfect condiment to our dinner-in-the-dark.