Picture the scene. Remembrance services are over, for this is a special day for other reasons too, and in the darkness of the British autumn evening, a small primary school in North Yorkshire re-opens its doors for a PTA organised event. This, my friends is Film Night!
It quickly becomes clear that this must have been organised by the crazed mind of a busy-so-not-quite-thought-it-through parent. Oh yes, that would be me. Misself.
There are 170 small, yelping children ranging from the age of four to eleven, seated (well, about 60/40) in the school hall. Long, straight rows of chairs quickly become . . . well, not. The noise level raises so much that even the old school bell struggles for a hearing. What the hell were we thinking?
The excitement is all about “Rio.” A fab family movie packed with music and laughs. Film Night is a major treat which the kids get to enjoy twice a year (note to self: eyes to floor next time they want an organiser for this one).
All goes well. Threats of no treats at “halftime” failing to quiet the carnage. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound—let’s fuel the little buggers with E numbers during the intermission and stand back and watch them blow. The pick n’ mix are circulated. By the way, does that picky child REALLY think I am going to search 169 other bags of sweeties to try to find her perfect match? Step away from the counter, lady. I am not in the mood.
427 toilet breaks later we are done. No one died. Only two mummies had to be called to rescue their children from their own sensitivities. The kids are on their feet clapping and dancing to the music of the end titles. Worth it. NO, never again.
School was never this much fun when I was a nipper.
I am going for a lie down in a darkened room.