“The lady in front has done her hair in a beehive especially for you” I whispered to my friend. He raised an eyebrow, smirked and nodded. The woman in question was taller than most, her head filling much of the space between my friend and the screen. The up-do had been carefully prepared, an exemplar of plaiting, twisting, pinning and backcombing and finished off with half a can of hairspray, the surface glistening with minuscule crystallised droplets.
We marvelled in unison as the film show began, filling the auditorium with blazing light and turning the beehive into a silhouette framed by the most perfect glowing pink ears.