The Movies..........Big Child Old Field

I know that the cinema is often thought of as a first date kind of venue (heaven knows why you would want to get to know someone by sitting in silence in a dark room for over two hours, but there it is!); often associated with rampant snogging in the back seat without really paying attention to what is happening on-screen (really unwise for U and PG films, when the action in the auditorium reaches a 15 or 18!). The closest I came (and in case you were wondering, the closest really wasn't very close) was with a lovely Japanese girl called Hiroko Furuta whom I encountered at university.
Even to this day I am totally convinced that the main reason we became friends was that she could not understand a single word I was saying (not just English, but northern English; sometimes I swear that our conversations were actually two separate ones going on at the same time!), nevertheless friends we became. She was a foreign student (no way!.............WAY!) and occasional badminton player stationed at the beautifully named Florence Nightingale Hall of Residence (named after.........have a guess......that's correct.....a character out of The Magic Roundabout).
Much of the time we confined ourselves to the university campus; however one of the few occasions we did venture beyond the boundaries was a trip to see 'Beauty and the Beast' ('barely even friends, then somebody bends; unexpectedly'....top line that). Yes, it is a Disney film; and yes, I love Disney films!
Now, in retrospect, given my propensity for crying at movies it may not have been the ideal movie selection; but at the time, it seemed like the best way to show Hiroko my sensitive, in-touch-with-my-feelings side; how was I to know just how much of my sensitive, in-touch-with-my-feelings side she was going to see!!
This is one film which I trust needs no explanation; the classic story of a monster who learns the true meaning of love, with it's obligatory happy ending; and therein lies the problem. As the beastie boy dies, to be replaced by a very much alive handsome prince (in the way only Disney can do, all whistles and bells and shooting stars) I started with a sniffle followed by a few tears. Although managing to keep it fairly quiet - avoiding the outrageous sobbing reserved only for DIY SOS (see previous post) - it was nevertheless not a pretty sight to be beheld; in the end the waterworks were in full flow, and I confess that snot was involved (sparing nothing in the description here folks; this is fatmantofitman...RAW!).
It was when I glanced round at my Japanese friend that I realised something......she does not cry at movies.......!! Instead of tears rolling down her cheeks I can only describe her expression as one of bewildered amusement as she was much more interested in what I was doing than what was happening on the screen. As our eyes met, I knew it was a moment I was never going to forget....and believe me, I have tried!!! The only saving grace is that my vision was blurred.

She never talked to me again after that day.......

Naaaaah, just kidding. Despite the damp mess I had become during the movie (and the miserable attempt at asking her 'sniff-heh-splutter-did-sniff-splutter-heh-heh-younjoy-heh-splutter-thfilm?') she seemed unperturbed, I assume that - in the absence of any other point of reference - that 'that is what English men do at films'.

Whilst we continued to be friends, as always happens - regretfully - when her year in the UK was up, she returned to Tokyo and we lost touch. Sad though that might be, I look on it with a sense of relief, as if she had stayed any longer her English might have improved enough for her to understand me, realising that I was talking a load of nonsense all the time; or even worse, we might have ended up going to the cinema again.....

Oh, and for those of you wondering about the blogpost title; apparently 'big child old field' is the literal translation of Hiroko Furuta. It's probably just me, but I think that is SO cool!