2.119 Avengers

We were going to see The Avengers tomorrow. We were going to get up early and go to the first morning showing at something past 10. We were going to spend some quality time wiping the dust off the 3D glasses and head out to spend the better part of twenty quid to see a film. And it was going to be good.

Unfortunately, I’ve spent most of the past couple of days being like a really excited child on Christmas Eve. So, this morning, as we just sat around the house watching TV and casually chatting, I was wondering if we could go today instead of tomorrow. I mean, there’s no reason why not it’s just that, for some reason, in my head the cinema is busier on a Saturday than it is on a Sunday. There’s no basis to that statement. It’s just the way I feel. I always rule out cinema Saturdays, preferring to enjoy a multiplex on a Sunday.

But then, this is The Avengers. And they’re Assembling. Right there. On the screen. And I’ve been waiting for this film with varying levels of dizzying excitement for quite some time. Since the first film in the series, in fact. And with each subsequent release and little end credits teaser I’ve got more and more excited. And then I spent the other day just watching the trailers and clips on the internet. A lot. And grinning like an idiot.

So we went. We broke my no-cinema-Saturday rule. And went to see it. And it was magnificent. The queues weren’t. But the film was. All the time we were in the queue, Carole kept looking at me and saying, “Just remember, this was YOUR idea”. Each and every time I rolled my eyes at the small children who had clearly been brought to the open foyer of the cinema so they could run round, she would remind me it was my idea. I got to mentally tut at a couple of lads in front of us who pointed at the Avengers poster and said “Well, I don’t know who she is, or him.” I resisted the urge, if I’m honest, to lean forward and ask them, politely, to leave.

We were in the queue a long time. A very long time. Children continued to run around. The ran up to the standee of Johnny Depp as a vampire, screamed and ran away. A lot. That’s all they did. If me and my sister had done that our parents would have shouted at is and we’d have been dragged home. Apparently, though, it’s allowed now. That’s progressive parenting and all that. It must be. Just ignore your children as they annoy other people by running down the up escalator you’re trying to use. That’s fine. Just don’t say anything to me when he eventually returns to the bosom of your family with a black eye.

And all the time Carole’s reminding me that it was my idea.

It was my idea. It was my giddy idea because I couldn’t wait 24 more hours.

And you know what?

It was bloody fantastic!

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