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| Copyright relevant owner |
It was the long, hot Summer of 1977. (Ever noticed how all Summers seem long and hot in the hallowed halls of memory?) 40 years ago, but (astonishingly) as fresh and alive in my mind as a lover's whispered goodbye. Myself and two friends were making our way to the local YMCA, into which one of them was moving for a few months before relocating to Cornwall to begin his training for a (short-lived) career in the Royal Navy. The sun beat down upon us, a gentle breeze caressed our heated brows, and, from the speaker of a small radio one of us carried, came the 45 rpm version of BOND '77 by MARVIN HAMLISCH, who had written the soundtrack of the soon-to-be-released blockbuster biggie, The SPY Who LOVED ME.
I purchased the single (which I still have) that same day, from the record department of my local BOOTS The CHEMIST (the shop whose employ I'd left only a few months before), and my next acquisition was the original soundtrack LP the instant it became available. At the appointed time, I also dutifully trotted along to the local cinema (called, unsurprisingly and unimaginatively, 'The CINEMA', which had the largest screen in Scotland) to see the 10th JAMES BOND movie in the 15 year-old series which had started in 1962.
Back then, in the days before home video had become the latest 'must have' possession, the only way to see a movie more than once (not counting repeats on TV) was to trot back to the cinema for another screening, which I usually did - again and again and again - though only with movies I'd enjoyed, obviously. I no longer recall exactly how many times I went to see The Spy Who Loved Me, but I know I saw MOONRAKER four times two years later, and, in between, I'd seen SUPERMAN The MOVIE a staggering seven times (five in the ABC in Glasgow's Sauchiehall Street, twice in my local cinema) before I was fully sated.
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| Bond girl Caroline Munro |
Anyway, on my last visit to see The Spy Who Loved Me, I spied (no pun intended) the manager, Mr. BOB JOHNSTONE, in the foyer as I made my way out. On a spur-of-the moment whim (and what other kind is there?), I approached him and politely asked if I could have the poster as the movie was at the end of its run. Much to my surprise he acquiesced, and duly set about taking it from its display case before pressing it into my eager hands. I still have it to this day, though, sadly, Mr. Johnstone has 'retired' to that great cinema club in the sky and 'The Cinema' is now a Bingo hall (and has been for longer than its 20 years as a cinema).
So, here's to the Summer of '77 - long since vanished into history, but the spirit of which yet lingers and is only a thought and sometimes merely a dream (or even just a movie) away.
