Three memories kind of blur into one when it comes to formative horror experiences. the first is staying up late aged 6 with my parents hwo, in a strange fit of liberalism, decided to let me watch Jaws. Everything was fine until Richard Dreydus donned his mask and aqualung to investigate a sunken boat. I was perched on the arm of the setee. The fake polysterene head popped out of the hull of the boat. I fell of the chair and bruised my lower back.
The second horror film I remember is Salem's Lot. We were on a caravan holiday in Scotland and my parents were watching it on a B&W TV in the sitting area. I was meant to be asleep behind a small curtain at the back. I watched pretty much all of it through a small tear in the curtain that I fashioned. almost wet myself when the vampire kid started tapping on the glass.
That same B&W TV came in handy when I inherited it a year or two later. I could stay up with a finger on the off switch when the BBC used to screen two old horror movies on Friday. One would be a Hammer movie or of similar vintage, the other a universal of RKO chiller. Being young and ignorant I didn't know that they were from different eras, a fact compounded by watching them both in monchrome.
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