World of Pure Imagination

"A little nonsense now and then is cherished by the wisest men"

Sarah brought home 'Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory' from Staples the other day and we spent a sultry humid Friday night in bed drinking red wine, eating Italian chocolate, reliving childhood memories as a storm barrelled wildly over our Queens roof.

Willy Wonka made my world go round when i was a boy. I would sit engulfed in my Nana Barb's floppy brown bean deficient bean bag in her suburban 1970's lounge room, entranced by her faux-wood Tecnhicolor TV on wheels, rabbit ears protruding from the top, indulging in a session of Wonka for the utmosth time via a 'cutting edge' VCR. It had a remote control that only worked when its cord was 'plugged in'. Infrared, evidently, was still a way off.

I was five years old on those lazy afternoons of carefreedom, falling away into my own little world, pretending that i too had discovered a golden ticket and was travelling through the mysteriously wonderful world of Wonka.

Miniscule detail remained firmly entrenched in my long term memory, triggered again my the repeat viewing. The quips and catchlines, the colour of the sweets, the empathic sensation of licking fruit flavoured walls, crunching my own teeth into an edible dandelion cup and saucer. The songs and lyrics, the Candyman, the freaky knife merchant at the gates of the factory, the cockney science teacher who berates Charlie for eating just two wonka bars.

It was a revelation to discover that the film was set in Munich - not cockney London as i'd thought, despite the majority of American accents dominating the cast.

It was all there, all the memories, flooding back like a chocolate river through the pure imagination of my still youthful mind.

We sailed off into slumber, wined up, singing the songs of Wonka, dreaming dreams about shooting across skies in glass elevators.

So thanks to the man in purple, and his little men in orange and green.

This imagination is once again truly free.