I was in the video rental shop the other day. They’re more like respectable businesses nowadays. Less like slightly shady places with shelves full of all kinds of stuff from the X-rated sides of cinema.
There’s even this American chain called Blockbuster that’s been opening shops in the UK, with corporate branding and staff in uniforms.
I’d heard that back in the eighties there were some promotional copies made of The Corn Mother and there were plans to release it on video but it never seemed to happen and I don’t even know if the original film reels still exist.
But even knowing that, I still half expect to see a copy of it when I’m in the rental shop, though I know I never will. It always makes me a bit wistful looking along the shelves.
I sort of lost touch with the film world after all that hassle with Gines and the subsequent fall out, and apart from when I’m in here I don’t really think about back then all that much. I’ve got my job and my family and they both keep me pretty busy.
That young chap who ate baked beans while he toiled away at script revisions seems like another person to me now. Somebody I once met who told me about it, rather than it being me with ink on my fingers and a head full of ideas and dreams. Dreams of the corn mother and her nighttime kingdom.
