saving date night

A ‘date night’ had seemed like a good way to put a bad day behind us. Last night we decided to catch a late evening film at the cinema and treat ourselves to a meal out on the way… that was the plan.

This morning I set out on a rainy mission to see if I could redeem something small from what turned out to be a less than perfect date.

We all like a bargain and some more than others. I’ve often heard myself say, “and it was in the sale!” or “and we got 20 per cent off” or even “and it was free!” Somehow these special offers make the product even more attractive to us, we feel we’re getting better value for money, or at least we’re saving while we spend.

Meerkat offers have been giving us the perfect excuse to go to the cinema more often lately with their two for one deal on tickets. There is even a two for one on meals out but finding a restaurant that takes them can be tricky. 

Last night we resigned ourselves to a simple two for one pizza, but decided to try out a new village pub on the way. ‘The Sailors Return’ was a delight, with its stone flagged floors, tables in cosy nooks and very friendly staff. The local brewed cider was also delicious. The evening had started well, despite the rain, and we promised ourselves we’d return with friends for a meal out another night.

Half an hour later, with half price cinema tickets in our hands, we headed into a Pizza Express, where a few weeks earlier I’d enjoyed the two for one deal with great success. We would just have time to eat our pizzas before the start of the film. No need to check if they’d take the discount code – it had worked fine last time! It was therefore slightly annoying when we came to pay and the waitress told us they had stopped being part of that deal just three weeks ago and the pizzas were full price. That wasn’t what we wanted to hear.

Settling into our cinema seats, I was thinking ‘Never mind, at least we’ll enjoy the film’. The recently released version of Jane Austen’s ‘Emma’ had been billed as a “hilarious feel good comedy” by one of its stars Bill Nighy. His comments on the radio had persuaded my date it would be funny and the trailer looked quite quirky also. I confess to laughing throughout the film, but apparently it wasn’t funny at all. The opening credits warned about “natural nudity” but only one of us appreciated the lingering shots of Mr Knightly akka Johnny Flynn, having stripped off his riding gear at the start of the film. It was definitely a step up from Colin Firth as Mr Darcy.

After leaving the cinema as quickly as possible, the drive home was not cheerful. The rain had soaked into our jackets and not only had we been robbed by top price pizzas, the film had turned out to be one of the dullest he’d ever seen and the seats weren’t even comfortable for sleeping! I felt the opposite, but that didn’t really help. And there was something else bothering me…

Before leaving the house that night I’d snatched up a favourite Cossack style faux fur headband without putting it on. Somewhere between getting in the car, the pub and the cinema it had disappeared. I was fairly sure I hadn’t had it going to the cinema and I was really hoping I would find it in the car in the morning. That night I didn’t mention the missing item. I feared it could prove the final screw in the coffin for date night.

This morning I drove through the wind and rain and twisting lanes to ‘The Sailor’s Return’ carpark. Climbing out I spent several minutes chasing our military car pass down the road, eventually fishing it out from a hedge. I scoured the beer garden and car park and nearby gardens, trying to be inconspicuous in a yellow waterproof. There was no sign of the sodden headband. My last hope was the pub, which looked shut. A dog was barking inside as I approached and the landlady pulled him away from the door shaking her head. It really was a longshot that anyone might have picked it up in the dark and the rain and handed it into the pub. But I moved closer and calling through the wind I asked if anyone had handed in a head band, making a circle round my head with my hand and feeling a bit silly.

“A furry one? Hang on,” she said.

A minute later she opened the door and handing it over apologised that it was still a bit damp, although she’d put it on the radiator to dry. How kind – I love that pub even more today!

All was not lost and it was a happy ending to the date night disaster for me. After all that would now save me the cost of a new headband.

Unfinished stories and ‘Bird Box’

We began to watch a scary movie last night. The film became progressively more terrifying and depressing, until we both admitted we didn’t really want to watch it anymore and turned it off, without any argument.

This is very unusual for me. I am a consumer. I consume stories, so leaving one unfinished is like walking away and leaving a plate half full of chocolate cake (or your favourite food). It just isn’t done. Once I start a film or a book, almost however bad, I need to know the ending and find myself glued to the chair until the credits roll.

It took me by surprise to discover something new about myself today.

In the night half-run scenes from the film ran through my mind as a dream formed with Sandra Bullock in a blindfold serving up Toad-in-the-hole in our kitchen. When I woke-up I couldn’t help wondering about some of the facts in the half-watched film that didn’t make sense and how on earth her river journey would end. 

Giving in I decided to google the plot and read how the story unfolded and how it ended. Spoiler alert for Bird Box! If you want to watch it, skip this paragraph. She and the children make it, although most of the others die along the way. I told this rough outcome to the other film watcher in the bed beside me and something strange happened…

We decided, in the cold light of a rainy Saturday morning, to watch the rest of the film.

“I don’t mind watching it if that’s the outcome,” he said. And strangely, I agreed.

My insatiable desire to devour another story was satisfied. By the end of the second half of the film the blindfolds were off and the birds were singing. And I’d also discovered more about myself.

I want to eat up stories, but I don’t want stories without hope.

Faced with an impossible situation, it looked like there was no way forward for mum-to-be Malorie (aka Sandra Bullock). Once I knew there was a way through, some light at the end of the fast following river and the dark woods, I was prepared to be engaged. To suspend my disbelief for 40 minutes and join in with the journey of Bird Box. I knew that the hardships ahead would eventually lead to some kind of salvation.

The link with faith is obvious. But I’ve never realised how much hope is such an important part of how I live, the way I think and what I choose to consume.

The most interesting thought I’ve been left with is that with Bird Box, I knew the ending ahead. Someone had already seen it and told me how things would turn out, so there was no need to fear. It wasn’t just hopeful watching, willing her and the children to be OK. The hope was grounded in some facts. 

I don’t know how my life will pan out or exactly what the ending will be or when it will come, but my faith gives me hope. When life’s circumstances threaten to knock me down, or I feel like I’m walking blindfolded, I have hope. It’s not based on something from Google that tells me it will all be OK in the end. But it is based on God’s Word and his promises and on my experience of being held in His everlasting arms.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. Hebrews 1:11