Call me a softy if you like, ‘The Woman in Black’ is the scariest film I’ve ever tried to watch. I’ve had a few attempts. One was at the cinema with my daughter. I think she begged me to take her, only to discover how fearful it is.
“Tell me when it’s
gone,” she whispered.
“I can’t, I’m not looking.” I had no idea what ‘it’ was.
There’s a particularly creepy scene concerning a room full
of clockwork monkeys playing musical instruments and an empty rocking chair,
rocking. Too spooky and reminds me of something chilling my son said when he
was little.
I have my grandfather’s rocking chair, I’ve probably
mentioned it before because it is special item and means a lot to me. I
remember him with fondness, gently rocking as he read the paper or his book,
often sharing an orange with me when I was a child. After he died, the chair
was untouched in the house he’d shared with my aunt since he was widowed. My
sister had children before me and I think our aunt gave her the rocking chair
to nurse her first baby. When I bought my house, the chair came to me and for a
while, it was the only furniture I had to sit on. It moved with me when I got
married and had a special place in the back room. I don’t know if our son, a
young child at the time, was teasing when he told me that he’d seen the rocking
chair rocking on its own. The thought of it gave me shivers. I felt sure I
would be aware if there was anything odd. Over the years, the chair began to
look tatty. Covering it with a throw and a cushion wasn’t enough. I had it repaired
and recovered, and moved it into my bedroom.
As for ‘The Woman in Black’, I’m told by a friend that the
stage play is more scary than the film. I can’t imagine that, but I’ll accept
the opinion without the need to see for myself.
Robert Service had the right idea,
When
I am old and worse for wear
I want to buy a rocking-chair,
And set it on a porch where shine
The stars of morning-glory
vine;
With just beyond, a gleam of grass,
A shady street where people pass;
And some who come with time to
spare,
To yarn beside my rocking-chair.
Then I will light my
corn-cob pipe
And dose and dream and
rarely gripe.
My morning paper on
my knee
I won't allow to worry me.
For if I know the latest news
Is bad,-to read it I'll refuse,
Since I have always tried to see
The side of life that
clicks with glee.
And looking back with days nigh done,
I feel I've had a heap
of fun.
Of course I guess that
more or less
It's you yourself make happiness
And if your needs are small and
few,
Like me you may be happy too:
And end up with a hope,
a prayer,
A chuckle in a rocking-chair.
Robert Service
Thanks for reading, Pam x