We went to the cinema last Saturday night (No Country for Old Men – not bad, thanks) and we sat near a trendy woman with a red leather jacket. To be precise we sat one seat away from her. On the far side of Mr. Waffle another couple ensconced themselves leaving one seat empty. The woman with the red leather jacket leaned across and said to me that we should move closer to her as otherwise there would be two single seats. I knew she was right but I was annoyed. She was smug dammit.
At the start of the film, I hauled out my packet of Maltesers from my handbag. I know some people don’t like you eating in the cinema, but, you know, they sell them in the foyer, so it can’t be a huge surprise that other people buy them. It may not be right, but there you have it and at least I wasn’t eating crisps. Leather jacket sighed audibly. I had baleful thoughts. I sucked through my packet of maltesers and crunched the last one. Leather jacket sighed and her partner leaned across and asked me to stop crunching. The worst part of it was that I could kind of see their point but I still hated them for making it. Cranky, moi?
