alien bill ·
16 July 04

I used to lie on the floor with the back of my head on a cushion placed on my mother’s lap. Everytime there was a film on, I would do this. I must have been about 7 or 8 years of age.

It was one of the few times in the day that my mother and I, without reason would be happy together. I don’t whether it was because the film was on, and it meant we could be mother and son without the need for conversation turning into a bloody beating for me, and a screeching match for my mother. I can’t explain it, but it was one of the few times I remember relating to my mother as a son, and for my mother to be a mother.

She would sometimes stroke my hair, and place her hand on my head. I didn’t like this when watching a film, but as the film would end I wouldn’t mind so much as I would drift off to sleep, and my mother would then either let me sleep downstairs or drag me upstairs to my room.

One particular night she let me watch the terrestrial TV showing of Aliens. It was shown after the News at Ten on ITV, when Trevor McDonald was still regarded as the don of tabloid TV news, and when Breakfast News on BBC1 was still a case of people who spoke “proper” English, and no accents being allowed.

At the time, Aliens was a bit shocking, in the sense of great entertainment. I wasn’t scared or frightened, however, my mother having only watched what is now dubbed Bollywood films all her life, was getting into it too. Sort of like when you watch people shout at the screen saying “don’t go there.” or “she’s going to die”. It was kind of funny seeing that when I was a kid, because it was all make belief and amusing to me. I had to go school tomorrow, but my mother let me stay up all night to watch it. It must have finished sometime after midnight, after another news part way through the film during a break.

It was odd, because I remember after the film ended, and the credits rolled, the announcer said over the microphone, “and next the bill”. I was half dazed, and got a bit worried about this. I thought, “this isn’t pay per view, why are they giving us a bill for watching the film?”. I then sort of panicked quietly to myself as I waited for the bill to arrive, wondering what my mother would say. how did they even know I watched the film? maybe if I turned the television off they wouldn’t send us a bill?

My mother made her way upstairs to her room, and told me to go to bed as I had to get up for school the next morning. I acknowledged this, but waited in front of the TV. I checked the post box, in case something had come through. I even looked outside the window to see if someone was walking around with a bill. Then I heard the familiar theme tune to The Bill, a British cop show.

The relief I felt was only superceded by the stupidity of my reaction. “The Bill! Oh my God!” I was in hysterics, and my mother told me to keep the noise down. It was the dumbest thing ever, but it’s a memory I still have, and to have any memory is an achievement for me.