Civic outrage

I have worked myself up into a lather of civic outrage today, over the news that the Lake District National Park Authority is planning to redevelop Bowness cinema and its car park, knock them to the ground into a horrible pile of rubble, and build more gift shops in their place.

Regular readers of these pages will know that I am no great admirer of Bowness Cinema.

It is no IMAX. I find the presence of its Wurlitzer organ adds nothing beneficial whatsoever to modern-day cinematography. Played alongside modern-day classics like Deadpool and the latest dinosaur epic it could no longer be said to be appropriately atmospheric, even when expertly played by somebody who has seen the film before.

Also it has a rubbish selection of popcorn, doesn’t sell alcohol, and every now and again the projector breaks down and everybody has to go home. The decor is left over from the wartime, the loos are primitive, and all in all it strikes people as being faintly quaint. It is a long-surviving relic of the nineteen seventies, and as such is a bit ridiculous in today’s excitingly 3D entertainment era.

Despite all of these drawbacks, it is one million percent better than no cinema at all.

I like having a cinema in Bowness.

If the Royalty Cinema is turned into yet another parade of useless shops selling small stuffed replicas of Mrs. Tiggywinkle, we will never know what films are currently in circulation, because we will not see their exciting advertising as we drive past on our way up the hill. We will not be able to walk to the cinema, but will have to drive, probably for miles, which is tiresome, and we will have to pay for parking, which is worse.

I like having our own cinema.

It gives tourists something to do on wet days.

I was scandalised at the discovery that somebody thinks they might take it away.

I spoke to our local councillor today, and he told me to whom I ought to write, so I did, making my opinions, I thought, radiantly clear.

I wrote to the council, who own the cinema, and they wrote back immediately, saying that it was nothing to do with them, and would I please write to somebody else. I declined this offer, and said that since the final decision rested with them, I was going to continue expressing my opinions for their benefit until I heard some arguments convincing enough to make me change them.

After that I wrote to the National Park and the local newspaper, and to our councillor again. If the cinema closes then it will not be my fault, and I shall consider lying down in front of the bulldozers the way that Boris Johnson is about to do at the new runway at Heathrow I think I shall encourage our local councillor to do the same, he is always game for a laugh.

Apart from writing irate letters to the planning authorities I have not really achieved very much. I went for a run up the fell, and was shocked by the fast diminishing availability of water up there.

All the becks have slowed to the smallest trickle.

The places where water gushed unhindered down the paths all winter are dry. The place where I needed the stepping stone to jump over the stream has become a peculiar rock, sticking up all by itself in the middle of the path. I have attached a before-and-after picture of Church Beck at the top and bottom of this entry, except they are the other way round, because the one I took this morning is at the top, so they are obviously after-and-before, for the pedantic among you.

Of course you might remember that I wrote to the council on this very subject last year, and so it may be that they have paid attention and invested in some drier weather. If so, then I can have some hope for the poor cinema.

I hope so very much. It would be truly ghastly to lose it.

It might be rubbish, but it is our rubbish.