im Keenan's book Dublin Cinemas: A Pictorial Selection is a treasure trove of picture-house memories. Iain Mac Cárthaigh reflects on the golden age of Dublin cinemagoing.

First thing I did when I got my paws on this book was to scan the photo on the dust jacket to see if I was among the huddled mass queuing on the pavement outside the Savoy.

On a dismal Friday evening, myself and the mott had been three-quarters of an hour in the queue for the Savoy in O'Connell Street. We eventually snailed into the foyer, out of the rain at least and with only ten couples between us and the box-office. The mott went upstairs to spend a penny. The Savoy's twin staircases, majestic curves of brass and marble, could have graced a Busby Berkley spectacular Such was their effect that no red-blooded young female, mott included, could resist attempting a regal descent in the manner of Olivia de Haviland or Bette Davis. Halfway down, there was a ripple of nudges among the folks ahead, which turned to guffaws and giggles by the time she reached the bottom. She scurried back beside me, puce with embarrassment.

'What's the matter? Is my slip showing?' Worse was evidently feared.

'You're okay. You just mislaid your umbrella.'

'No, I didn't!' She held up an arm with a lavatory brush dangling from the wrist.

The full article is printed in Film Ireland 108.