I was fifteen and I was on my first ‘date.’ We were in the Grove Cinema, Winson Green, Birmingham. For some stupid reason, which looking back was actually probably reasonably refined psychological reasoning for a 15-year-old lad playing to what he thought might appeal to girls, I had decided to take Jackie (‘twas not her name) to see ‘Love Story,’ the saccharin-drenched blockbuster of that particular year.