Wood Green Shopping City

Funny things happen when visiting Shopping City in Wood Green. A few days ago, a bright white mouse assessed the floor under my table in a closed coffee franchise: a heady experience when combined with the scent of nail-varnish opium wafting across from the beauty parlour and the thuddy Euro-pop entering my ears from overhead. It wasn't unpleasant - just a bit distracting.

And once, at a viewing of Toy Story 3 in the rather ambitiously named Cineworld, I sobbed at the sad inevitability of children growing-up and discarding their toys. Tears streamed down my face as I remembered the day, slightly too late in my adolescence, when I too threw away all my dolls. The eight-year-old tough boy next to me rubbed his eyes disparagingly, whispered profanities and questioned my sexuality.

On leaving the cinema, I spotted a tiny Buzz Lightyear collapsed in mock abandon on the pavement. He was desperately trying to assume the position of the inanimate as a Staffordshire Bull Terrier licked him.

The Man With The Gong

For years, the beautifully carved torso of the Rank Organisation Gongman, bashed the importance of cinema into my Sunday-afternoon-on-the-sofa head and left me clinging to its resonance. As he swung his arms lustily towards the gong, I was in no doubt of the power of the olden days. My! That man could kill tigers with his bare hands.

So, it was rather a disappointment to see the gong resting limply against a wall in The london Film Museum this weekend. Its papier-mâché frame looked as insignificant as the wall display of a jaded infant teacher. And a felt tip sign was stuck disrespectfully to one side, asking us not to touch.