Blame it all on the giant snake....

My parents aren't really big movie fans. They enjoy them, but not the same way I do.

When I was a kid, our local cinema was called The Toledo. Toledo is still one of those words that I love. The cinema (which was still there, last time I checked) was an Art Deco white-fronted thing, full of jade, black and white tiles and lots of interesting wrought iron work.

It had a balcony, and lots of little alcoves full of statues.

It also had a sticky floor, was freezing and you always came out having been bitten by something in the dark.

Still, it was our local, and even I am just old enough to remember Saturday matinees with added sugar.

The first film I ever went to see was The Jungle Book. We got there late (an unforgiveable movie sin, I know) and I remember stepping from the cool, shabby foyer into the dark auditorium and feeling the floor fall away from me. My world was simply the biggest screen I had ever seen, and on it the biggest snake, hissing off into the jungle with a knot in his tail.

I remember being led to a seat, but being able to find the floor or the chair unaided, hypnotised as I was by the furious Kaa.

That was where it started. Total adoration. An experience unlike any other.