The Movies.........The Davvy

You remember the old adage 'I remember when all this was fields'? The words - or variants thereof -usually uttered by the older generation, to communicate some wistful longing of days gone by; and more often than not the loss of an environment enjoyed by them when they were the younger generation. In my humble opinion, to use a phrase like this in the twenties (as in age, not year of our Lord!) is just too soon, and yet in 1999 - in the the name of (slightly biased? yep) needless progress - I lost just such a piece of my childhood; the Davenport Theatre.

Situated not more than ten minutes walk away from my childhood home (just long enough for the excitement to kick in), to have such a large theatre so near was extraordinary. Just a quick walk through the snicket, past Clarks newsagents, over the big, metal, monster railway bridge (up-right-up-left-across-right-down-left-down....clanging all the way) and there it was. We were so lucky; I know.

I tell you my friends, the movies I saw there, the experiences I had there......!

• Being dragged there by my brother under the impression we were seeing Chitty sodding stuffing Chitty Bang bloody Bang (the films actual full name dontcha know?!) - boooooooo! - only to be surprised when 'The Black Hole' started - yaaaaaaaaaay! Yes I know, looking at it now, it was a TERRIBLE movie, but at six years old I thought it was BRILLIAAAAANT!
• The incident with the carnivorous chair......think I may have mentioned that one.
• Going to see Superman II with three brothers, and finding it SOOOO exciting that, while sat in the stalls next to one, the other two (exploding shorts and helping him move) were sat in the dress circle above. They were up there, but I couldn't see them!!!!
• Watching a double bill of Star Wars and Empire Strikes Back and feeling desperate at the thought of Han Solo being stuck in carbonite for over three years.
• Mrs. Davies - GCSE Biology at my school; about 40 minutes bus journey from home, oh...and did I mention she was my first experience (not the last!) of olderwomancrushitis - going to see Good Morning Vietnam at MY cinema. That slotted into the exciting category of 'teacher doing normal things'!!!
• Going to the Davenport Minor, which had a screen about the size of the laptop I am currently typing on.....but cosy was NOT the word for it. Crimson decor; outstanding!
• The organist and organ at the interval.....rising up through the floor of the stage playing a medley which whatever the weather always included 'Oooooh, I do like to be beside the seeeeeasiiiiiide'!
• The first few images of the picture projected on the curtain as it was being raised (I miss curtains in cinemas)
• Pearl and Dean (ba-baa, ba-baa, ba-baa, ba-baa, baba-baa, ba-baa, ba-baa, ba-baa, ba-baaaaaaaa, BA!!!)!
• The first solo - without parents or older siblings, just schoolmates - films; feeling all growed up.

You can gather from all the above, it is safe to say that this establishment formed a significant part of my childhood! Then, as time wore on, University and maturity (sort of) beckoned, and it became a beacon (yes, you heard it.....a beacon!!). About three minutes before arriving at Davenport station, the train took us about a hundred metres behind the cinema; innocuous from the rear, but instantly recognisable by the big white 'D' painted on the back of the building........almost home.

Then, one day I came home and the D was no longer there. I discovered later that the neighbouring school purchased the place, and within a week, it was rubble; making way for - yes, you guessed it - a car park. Mercifully it was quick enough for me not to see its gradual demise, as it would have made an unpleasant experience nothing short of devastating. Yes, yes, I understand that with the advent of how-many-showings-can-we-cram-into-our-thirteen-screens multiplexes; theatres like the Davenport are always going to struggle for survival (and invariably fail in that struggle). Understanding it doesn't make me feel any better about it though. It is weird to mourn the loss of a building; or am I mourning the loss of childhood Sigmund?

That said, I can take great comfort in the fact that the organ which magically emerged through the floor of the Davvy, now proudly emerges through the floor of Stockport Plaza; a theatre which has been fully-restored in the old-style, and with local council and considerable voluntary support is flourishing. I can also be grateful that, despite its ultimate demise, the Davenport Theatre was there when I needed it most. I miss it, and I thank it.