Harry and me

Coming down in the lift, I was tempted to ask if the two dogs were also going to see the last Harry Potter film, but decided against it. (They weren’t, as it turned out, because I saw them being taken up to the next platform, presumably for travel further afield than the cinema.)

I only thought the thought because we’d travelled in on the same overcrowded train, and the guard had shown them a picture of her cat on her mobile phone. They didn’t seem terribly interested. But on my querying her actions, the guard pointed out they were people, too, and had a right to be interested in cats. (It was more the mobile that I had my doubts about.)

Daughter and I went to the first screening on Friday morning of the Harry Potter film, hoping to avoid most of the rest of people. At first we thought we’d got it totally wrong when our tiny auditorium admitted a whole class of primary school children bearing popcorn. Apparently the manager thought so too, because he soon entered and suggested we’d be more comfortable elsewhere. We were.

(I suppose the school were trying to bribe the little darlings with a film. They were almost too young for it, I’d say.)

But it’s astonishing how many seemingly normal people can manage a trip to the cinema first thing on a Friday morning. And considering how many of us had to make one toilet dash in the midst of the excitement, I’d vote for an official toilet break interval next time. We could ‘go’ en masse.

Except, I suppose there won’t be a next time. Not like this.

(If you want a ‘review’ of the film, you have to try CultureWitch.)

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