It had been a miserable day, with unrelenting rain, so last night we went to Wellington’s Embassy Theatre to see Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit.
The Embassy is a theatre, which was opened in 1924 and was refurbished in 2001, in time for the world premiere of the first of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. The theatre is gorgeous – an very stately old dame. As you enter her wide doors on Cambridge Terrace, you ascend to the first floor via elegant curved stairways with beautiful art deco tiles in deep blues and greens lining the walls. She always takes my breath away.
Last night I searched for the tile I’d heard about at a recent funeral. One of Wellington’s beloved, an extremely kind and generous philanthropist, funded the tiling of the walls. All he asked for in recognition of his generosity was for one tile to be placed honouring of his parents. I found it exactly where I thought it would be, very simple and discrete – with only a christian name for each of them and the initials of their surname – perfect. I felt so moved by this one simple gesture that I wanted to hold my fingers to my lips then press them gently against the tile.
Choc-dipped ice cream in hand, I settled into my sumptuous leather seat, sponsored by another well-known Wellington identity. The lights went down plunging the auditorium into near darkness but for the latticed domes on either side of the screen. After a one-handed scrambling at the bottom of my handbag for my camera clutching my ice-cream cone in the other, I managed to take just one photo. If I’d had more time, and two hands, I would have tried to show the magical lattice effects on the surrounding walls and ceiling.