Yesterday, as a nod to the perpetual piece of advice that parents should nurture their romantic relationship by making time to spend with each other and without their children (presumably at a time other than two o’clock in the morning) we did something for the first time… We took up one of the LMFs on her kind offer to babysit the small person and we went on a date.
As her boyfriend pointed out, most dates don’t involve being up at six in the morning, or contending with the morning peak-hour traffic, or packing a picnic to leave behind for someone else. I’m guessing, too, that very few dates see people going to Croydon by choice. Nevertheless, we had fun. We saw a movie that was thrilling for several reasons: the theatre was nearly empty except for us, so we could put our feet up and talk and laugh far too loudly all the way through; the film was only 90 minutes long in an age when anything that’s not a kid’s film is about four-hundred hours long; the tickets were cheap (well, it was in Croydon); and there was lots of popcorn, in a box that was mysteriously tied up inside a plastic bag.
We did have plans to go and see The Kids Are All Right (very brief synopsis: a lesbian couple have two children, the children grow up and want to find their anonymous sperm donor, drama and hilarity ensue). After all, the story seemed pretty relevant. Anyway, because we’ve been faffing around for weeks (or, to be honest, months), it’s only on at a cinema too far away (ie more than fifteen minutes drive). Instead, we went to see Easy A (very brief synopsis: pretty American teenagers are mean to each other and swap witty and cutting one-liners, with occasional cheerleading). So, I’m not musing on the representation of gay families on the big screen, or the excellence of Annette Bening, or the future possibility of small wanting to find his anonymous donor. No no, I’m stuck with such highbrow questions as: Does Penn Badgley worry about being typecast as the sensible and emotionally-mature-for-his-years love interest with nice arms? What happened to Amanda Bynes’ face? Is she on a large dose of corticosteroids? Why are people (and by people, I mean Herald Sun movie reviewers) so surprised and upset that Emma Stone is pretty? Was the teacher the guy from The OC? If not, are they related? Isn’t Patricia Clarkson (and yes, I had to look her up to find out her actual name, rather than just call her that woman who was the mother in that thing we watched about forty seasons of) fabulous, even in trashy teen comedies?
Movie over, coffee drunk, bad bought cake (what a mistake) eaten despite its badness (well, it was still chocolate), we returned to our LMFs house to sit in her garden and watch her, her mum and her boys planting (well one was planting, the other one was making a cubby house on the roof of her car). Small was asleep, chickens were clucking about, the sun was streaming down. Oh, happy date morning indeed!