Valentine's Day hoves into view as I write and the thought brings back memory of a matter I shall boldly declare we all have in common: our first romantic kiss and/or date.
Let me set the scene in proper fashion. My family lived for several years in Gateshead, the town memorably described by Dr Johnson as a dirty lane leading to Newcastle. Then, as now, a visit to the cinema was a popular outing for a date. There was plenty of choice from numerous cinemas on both sides of the Tyne. Many were second run venues and changed their programmes mid-week.
During our Gateshead residency, we lived equidistant between two picture palaces, the Coatsworth and the Bensham. It was the Coatsworth a boy in my class -- I'll disguise him as Bert -- invited me to a cinematograph entertainment for what would be my first date. He was round-faced and dark haired, and yes, I had a bit of a crush on him.
It was Bert who had given me my first kiss a short while before. He was showing me around the pub his parents ran, including the cellar which featured what I believe is technically termed a beer drop door, i.e. double metal doors set flush in the pavement through which barrels of beer are delivered. In any event, having taken the grand tour we were standing at the door talking when he suddenly leaned forward, planted a kiss on my cheek, shoved me off the step, and slammed the door in my face.
Not exactly romantic, was it?
So here we are, not long afterwards, at the Coatsworth Cinema watching Little Red Monkey, which the Internet informs me is based on a BBC TV series of the same name starring Donald Huston and Honor Blackman. It's a Cold War thriller, wherein someone is assassinating nuclear scientists. Richard Conte arrives and attempts to thwart the villains responsible for these deaths in order to get a Russian defector safely to America.
Back to the Coatsworth Cinema. The only things I remember about Little Red Monkey are, first, its perky organ music and occasional appearances by the titular monkey entering or exiting via a window. Also a comment having nothing to do with the film. It transpired Bert kept his cash in a black purse whose shape was near enough to a heart for me to observe wittily -- or at least I thought so at the time -- if it had been red it should have had an arrow through it.
Since enquiring minds may want to know but are too shy to ask, no, there was no kiss at the end of our date.
Alas, it was not to be. Fortuna intervened in that a few weeks later my family moved back to Newcastle and after that Bert and I never met again.
So there you have it. Meantime, having dragged subscribers this far down Nostalgia Lane, they might care to glance at a couple of sites relevant to my ancient bit of personal history:
Trailer for Little Red Monkey
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tb9BBVS4hOw&ab_channel=NetworkDistributing
27 screen shots from Reel Streets, long a favourite port o' call of mine
https://www.reelstreets.com/films/little-red-monkey-aka-the-case-of-the-red-monkey/
The Coatsworth Cinema in all its grimy glory
http://cinematreasures.org/theaters/51237/photos/171176
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