Bernard Goodwin was born during the Second World War, on the 1st August 1940, at Heanor in Derbyshire. Educated at Heanor Grammar School, his career was spent working at Cinemas and Theatres throughout the Midlands. He still lives in the same home as he did back in the 1940's.

In the late 1940s when I was nine years old, my father was given an old cinema projector, which was once used at the 'Empire Cinema' in Eastwood, Nottinghamshire. We had always been fans of the 'movies', and at that time used to go to the cinema four times a week. It was a hand-cranked projector, which meant someone, usually myself, had to turn the handle at a steady speed while everyone else watched.

On Saturday afternoons we invited all the local children to watch a show, held in our large back kitchen, where we blocked out the windows with heavy blankets. The lighting for the projector was supplied by an up-turned bicycle,with wires from the dynamo, and again we needed another helper to turn the pedals to generate the power.

We had quite a few reels of 35 mm film, and also some 'Ministryof Information' single reelers, including one called 'ShunterBlack's Night Off', now a collector's item so they tell me! For about two hours, a room full of kids, a up-turned bicycle, and an hand cranked projector, kept everyone happy,so much so, we had a waiting list of children wanting to come to a 'our pictures'.

Sometime later we were offered a gas engine with a built in lighting unit, supplying us with a brighter light of 12 volts, and this was wonderful! One Sunday morning my father and I, pushing a wheelbarrow, walked from Heanor to Marehay, a little village near Ripley, Derbyshire, some four miles distant, to collect this from my Uncle Jim. Hishome had just been connected to the local mains sewer, and he now had a flushing toilet, which made him the envy ofthe village!

Returning home that evening, we set about installing the gas engine on the back yard, some distance from the kitchen, because when it was working, it would be very noisy. A rubber gas pipe was run from the kitchen stove gas tap, through the window, and to the engine, which had to be fixed tothe ground, otherwise the firing of the engine would make it move for around.

It was cooled by a tank of water mounted on top, and an electrical cable took the generated electricity back to the projector. All this gave us a nice bright light, about 60 watts, which was quite a luxury! To deaden the engine sound an exhaust was buried underground, which didn't reallywork, I recall.

Our shows became quite famous in the neighbourhood, butwe had no way of obtaining new films for our collection.At one time, mum was kept busy making banana sandwiches,which were quite unique, as they had just begun importing them into the country again, after the end of World WarTwo.

However, tragedy struck one Saturday afternoon in October, halfway through 'Thunder Mountain', starring Tim Holt, when,with an enormous 'crunch' of cogwheels locking together,the ever-bright light ceased to shine.

There was no chance of obtaining spares; the machine was far too old. Everyone went home, and for some weeks after that, the district became a different place for the local children.

There was no way we were to let the greatest innovation of our time go without some recognition, so it was decided that on Bonfire Night of that year, we would have a special celebration. There where thousands of feet of highly inflammable nitrate film, which you couldn't just dump anywhere. We had a large garden, almost an acre, some distance away from the house, and it was here that the film would be disposed of.

In the garden were about eight apple trees, and in their branches we arranged clusters of fireworks. Then we tookthe reels of film, and linked all the trees together, ratherlike a giant fuse. The idea was to light one end of the film, and watch as it went from tree to tree igniting thefireworks, and terminating at the bonfire, which would thenignite itself. It worked, and the idea was a fantastic event,observed by about 100 people.

What was left was torn into pieces about a foot long, covered in carbolic soap, and wrapped in pieces of 'The Daily Herald' newspaper, looking like giant sweets. When one end was lit,the film smouldered, giving off clouds and clouds of obnoxious white smoke. These homemade 'smoke bombs' were every lad's dream, and I discreetly took them to school, selling themfor thrupence a time, after spending several evenings eachweek making them.

The era of home cinema didn't end there for me, for laterin life, ex- government cine equipment became easily available,after the war. However there was never again to be a timelike this again for me and my family, and as that flickering light faded into oblivion, only the memories of the era now remain.