Monday, 10 December 2012
'You are now leaving the future', read the graffiti painted on the side of a shed in a field just off the A14. And on this winter afternoon, as the light faded, I wondered if it could possibly be true. If, as I passed the sign, the years would slide back and somewhere out there in the darkening towns were bright neon-lit cinemas where projectors still whirred and joins clicked through the gate. Where platters turned slowly, reflecting the spilled out light of old arc lamp conversions and film, glorious film reigned supreme. But alas, the sign lied, and in the very next town the squat black boxes sat like contended toads in deserted projection rooms behind foyers that looked more like coffee shops than real cinemas.