Story by Bronwyn
It was summer
1992, I was nine years old.
I remember it being so hot.
My next door neighbour, and best friend, and I went to the movies for
the first time I can remember. We
went to Electric Shadows feeling so grown up.
Do you
remember the old dual coloured cinema, one blue one red? I think we were in the
red one, our bare thighs sticking to the cheap vinyl, ice cold cokes and
buckets of popcorn resting precariously on our knees, the air conditioner
choking to life, the whir of the projector - the excitement and anticipation
almost overwhelming.
We were
seeing Strictly Ballroom, I remember walking out loving it so much, wanting to
watch it again right there and then.
For weeks I saved my pocket money and bought my first CD – the Strictly
Ballroom soundtrack. Over and over
again I would listen to it, the crescendos, the cheesiness, revelling in it
all.
But there was
one track that I would always go back to, Doris Days’ Perhaps, Perhaps,
Perhaps. Maybe I missed something,
at nine years old I probably did.
But I’d dance around my room anyway.
It may be a
song about not wanting to be broken-hearted, but I reflect and think isn’t that
what life is made up of? Perhapses? Perhaps I’m no good at this, perhaps he’s
the right one, perhaps this is the wrong decision. There’s always another perhaps waiting around the corner,
waiting to unnerve you. When it
does, singing a mindless 1960’s pop song is sure to make you feel better!
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