Age Lies – Dirty Dancing
It was 1987: the year of La Bamba and Livin’ on a Prayer. Unlike now, when a decade can flash by and I haven’t seen or heard anything – 1987 was a vivid sound and light show of future classics.
The flea-pit at Muirend was a dirty fusty cinema – now converted into flats. The first film I ever saw there, without parents, was “Back To the Future”, then “Legal Eagles”, then “Howard the Duck”…
This time we were going with my friend’s big sister. We were going to see “Dirty Dancing”: a 15 Certificate.
My friend and I were famous for being uncool. With brains and glasses – branded “two squares” – we probably looked as if we were 10, rather than the 14 we really were.
We went to the ticket booth, and the grumpy woman said, “You don’t look 15! What year were you born?” Now, this was only a year after I had had the postaday “worst teacher” for maths – and my numeracy was a bit unreliable. I knew the correct answer was either 1974 or 1972, but couldn’t think for the life of me which one was which.
Luckily, my more numerate pal said… well…..whatever the right answer was. Phew. The woman didn’t believe her. Luckily her big sister turned on her skills of persuasion with “Well, she’s my little sister – and I think I’d know how old she is and I am telling you she is 15!” and we got in.
I carried a watermelon.