One and One and One and One.

26 Sep

If I’ve learnt anything from my short time on Earth (almost 23 years, if we’re being precise), it’s to never go to a film you know is going to make you cry wearing eyeliner, and having no tissues.

It’s a recipe for complete disaster.

BUT I NEVER BLOODY LEARN.

It happened last year with War Horse, and it’s happened tonight with About Time.

There is nothing dignified about walking out of a cinema screen with black marks down your cheeks, wiping your nose on your sleeve because you’ve nothing closer to hand.

I mean, the film itself is brilliant and clever and funny and heartbreaking, so do go see it, but just be prepared.

There’s only one thing that can cheer me up post cinema sob, and that’s popcorn. And luckily, I was crying too much to finish my bag. So that’s ideal. The even more ideal thing is that Cineworld now do salted and sweet mixed popcorn as standard, meaning that every mouthful is a mysterious treat. The Revels of Popcorn, if you will. (You won’t.)

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