Country life
Into the woods
Leanda de Lisle
I'm not very attractive at the moment. My back has gone again and I look less like a maiden in distress than the kind of hideous old crone who offers children poi- soned apples. I could try to cheer myself up by frightening small children. However, I'd rather frighten my husband — if not by my appearance, which he is used to, then by dragging him along to see The Blair Witch Project.
Going to the cinema is a major outing in the countryside. But then, let's face it, every outing is a major one in the country- side. You rarely pop out to the flicks with a friend, just as you rarely pop out to do any- thing else with a friend, unless you're one of those women who enjoy coffee morn- ings. You do things on your own, or, as with going to the cinema, they become a high days and holidays venture with the spouse. Usually, that's fine by me.
However, Peter is one of those husbands
who prefers films in which hearts are bro- ken, to those in which they are ripped out. Nothing I have said or done has yet per- suaded him that The Blair Witch Project is something he wishes to see. Instead on the one day of the year I did go to see a film with a friend I was forced to go to see Eyes Wide Shut. This particular woman is always taking me to dirty films and she always ends up sitting next to the wall, while I get the lonely guy in the old macintosh.
'Was it very erotic?' Peter asked after- wards, in an envious tone. Of course it wasn't erotic. It just had a lot of sex and even the director, Stanley Kubrick, appeared to realise that watching sex is of limited interest to anyone who has had a few years experience of it. The centrepiece of the film is an orgy in a large country house, in which the guests are all dressed up in cloaks straight out of The Devil Rides Out — one of my favourite old horror films. If only he could have run to Death on a pale horse as well.
A short walk in the country is enough to demonstrate how much more exciting hor- ror is than sex. What would make your heart beat faster, a walk in dense woodland or the sight of rabbits making baby rabbits? Well, exactly, and I now know how I'm going to compensate for the frustration of not being able to go to see The Blair Witch Project. I'm going to make my own. We have a small video camera that we never use and a couple of vulnerable house guests are coming up from London for the weekend.
While the term 'natural' has become syn- onymous with all that is pure and good, proximity to nature triggers primitive fears in the most worldly wise. My friends are unused to the dark and unused to silence, there being little of either in the capital. They are used to being in control, but that ill-prepares them for nature's unpre- dictability. I've heard television journalists who have supped with monsters, screaming like B-movie actresses when they have found a little Pipistrelle bat in their bed- room.
Imagine, then, the fun I could have film- ing my friends in the woods at night. I'd get the children to fuel them up with a good story. The sillier the better. They will roll their eyes, but it will come back to haunt them in the breeze and rustling leaves. When they first enter the woods, they may crack jokes and complain about the cold. But eventually one of them will lose their way. He or she won't know if the next step will take him into a bog or send him tum- bling into brambles.
Increasingly angry, fearful and paranoid, my victim will be ill-prepared for the shrieking of a vixen, or the absurd toot of an owl. In fact I wouldn't be at all surprised if the project didn't end in tears. Oh dear, I fear my mind is as twisted as my spine.
Previous page
