So what to do with a bored four-year-old on what feels like the wettest and longest day ever?

In search of a new experience (and something that doesn't involve me dressing up as princess) I put the little one in the car and set off for the cinema.

It was the first time she'd been to see a full length film and I was hoping she'd develop a liking for the dark auditorium where, if I felt like it, I could get half an hour's secret shut-eye.

I've heard of other exhausted parents napping through the latest Pixar blockbuster so I clung on to the glimmer of hope.

We settled on Wall-E. Simply because it was the only film on in Penistone.

The choice had been made and so began our movie adventure.

"She'll love it," enthused a cinema-loving colleague who I blame for putting the idea in my head

"She'll love it" said the cinema cashier who gave me little change from a tenner.

Popcorn, drinks and Jelly Babies accompanied us to our seats.

But she fell through the red velvety fold and that was the start of the end.

After her tears dried she sat on my knee and we took in the splendour of the historic Paramount.

A short while later, popcorn bucket empty, the curtain went up and we met Disney's summer holiday hero Wall-E.

I'd been hearing all summer how kids are falling in love with Wall-E, a cute little robot on a mission to clean up a polluted earth.

Well not in Penistone, it seems.

The kid in front did an Olympic-style dive into his mum's lap and my daughter's terrified shrieks would probably have been heard in outer space.

Two minutes later we were on our way home and we haven't mentioned robots since.

Later, I told my mum about our expensive and rather pointless outing.

She laughed and recalled taking me to see the Jungle Book, when I was a similarly tender age.

She'd no sooner unbuttoned my stiff 70s duffle than man-cub Mowgli swung through the trees and I cried for a week.

I still haven't seen Jungle Book and I doubt my mum has either.

Watership Down was another film that had a rather unexpected effect.

Aged six, I'd got used to the cinema's speaker-rattling noise and the strange darkness but I'm not sure whether any animal-loving child gets used to scene after scene of dead, floaty rabbits.

I had nightmares for months.

My dad, who took me in good faith thinking it was a fluffy kids' film, bought me a rabbit to try and cheer me up.

We called him Fiver after the rabbit in Watership Down.

All was well until he went to that great warren in the sky.

It might be another year or so until I venture back to the flicks with my little one.

Until then I won't be able to catch 40 winks in the auditorium but at least I won't be out of pocket either.

Let's hope the sun shines soon and we can get back to more tried and tested entertainment.



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