The absolute very first time I saw Abba The Movie was in 1977 in my final year at Primary School. This, as I’ve recently googled, was the year before it actually hit the British cinema screens but I’m going to stick with it if you don’t mind because everything else I remember ties in with it being 1977 and whatever fragile confidence I have left in my mental well-being will disappear otherwise.
It was just over a year after the Sex Pistols played their first gig but I grew up in a market town in Lincolnshire pre-internet so news took a while to reach us…usually 18 months or so…which meant my nascent 11 year old class warrior-self was still slightly more super-trooper than anti-christ or anarchist.
I went on an official date to the cinema with Miranda. This was a little uncomfortable for me because my girlfriend at the time was Sarah but we had never been on a date together and she wasn’t fully aware of being my girlfriend so that helped ease my conscience to some extent. Outside of class, the only time I actually saw Sarah, and sometimes said hello, was from an adjacent pew in the Sunday church service which we attended with our respective families. I rarely got an acknowledgement – perhaps a half-smile as she knelt in prayer (presumably for a divine restraining order) – and yet she was the only reason I agreed to skip Captain Scarlet and The Mysterons on a Sunday morning in the first place. I strongly suspect that my fierce atheism in later life was a direct consequence of the misery I felt from her rejection…..so, not an entirely wasted journey after all.
Anyway, back to dark-haired Miranda who had turned up in our final year at St Gilbert of Sempringham’s school and was, as I now understand, ‘mature for her age’. She gave me my first proper kiss when my arm was in a sling from a sprained wrist (a football accident….honest) so I was hardly in a position to hold her off. I’m assuming it was this deviant behaviour which had led to her departure from her previous school(s). St Gilberts prided itself on its inclusivity though – frankly they’d let anyone in – so Miranda got to finish her primary education in a school rather than a correctional institution.
I don't have many comparisons but I think it was a pretty normal co-ed place. Break-times were a blur of activity with games of British Bulldog and Kiss-Chase. I tried to target Sarah in both of them and I was no slouch but, boy, could she run fast when she needed to. Otherwise there were huddles of small groups dotted around the playground, swapping tea cards, playing paper fortune teller or watching Michelle's little sister show you her knickers if you gave her a fruit salad. Every now and then someone would sneak off to write “Yorkie is a bender” in the boys toilets but, largely, it was a happy place for everyone. Well, except Yorkie I guess.
If 1978 really was the date Abba The Movie was released, Miranda and I had both managed to escape the clutches of St Gilbert's by the time we'd stood in the queue for the cinema and handed over some small change for those little pink ticket stubs. My mum had told me to buy a present but my suggestion of a bag of cola bottles and a few shrimps didn't seem to meet with her approval so she gave me a small bottle of anais anais which was not only a fancy new perfume but one that mum clearly didn't like as much as dad thought she would.
I'm not sure if it was my hilarious Mork & Mindy 'nanu nanu' impression or the little gift-wrapped bottle I slipped into her hand as we made our way across the foyer but Miranda immediately steered us to the back of the stalls, despite us having perfectly good seats nearer the front, and made it clear that this might be my first date but it certainly wasn’t hers. Humming along to S.O.S. clearly made no difference to her - in fact my high-pitched treble, soon to grace the choir stalls of All Saints Church for two poorly-paid and deeply-troubling years, only appeared to spur her on. Fortunately, my sprained wrist had healed and was out of its sling so I was more capable of fending her off this time, allowing me to spend future Sundays in church trying to catch Sarah’s eye with no hint of guilt but, sadly, not a sniff of success either.
I watched the film again recently. It’s basically 95 minutes of Australian concert footage – the ᴀussies are big Abba fans, something you’d struggle to guess from Fosters adverts or Crocodile Dundee – and earns the title ‘Abba: The Movie’ with the thinnest of plots (a reporter chasing an interview with the band). The songs are outstanding though - and that comes from a fan of jangly indie guitars. Don’t forget, ‘mamma mia, here I go again’, was the single which finally dislodged Bohemian ‘mamma mia, let me go’ Rhapsody from the top of the charts. The four band members are class, not least by displaying that classic Swedish sang-froid (yes, I know it's French) when it came to keeping their personal relationship troubles from affecting their professional careers. Fleetwood Mac take note.
As adolescents, one of the most common questions amongst boys (after the contents of Marc Almond’s stomach) was which of Abba's lead singers would be lucky enough to get our vote. I always went for blonde Agnetha because Sarah was blonde too. Older and wiser, I’m now starting to think that her brunette partner would’ve been the better choice. I just wish that I’d realised that at the time.
Next: ABSOLUTE VERY FIRST TIME......MIX TAPE
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