Emergency station blip.

It doesn't look like it here, but once again the weather was appalling. Necessary trip to town though, to meet friend Sara for a pre-birthday treat I'd booked for her: a film-and-lunch deal at the Philharmonic Hall. She didn't know there was a cinema screen there, least of all a famous one.
The film was Picadilly, a black-and-white silent one from 1929, which although a tragedy involving murder most foul, we found extremely funny because of the exaggerated facial and other gestures, the conventions of the day and the general weirdness of life between the wars. The violence was implied by shadows of the protagonists, and sexual encounter ended with a face or hand withdrawn modestly just before contact, and a "good-time gal" was escorted from a dancehall for daring to dance with a black man. How things have changed, but for the better? I wonder.