Tonight Matthew, I got my kicks at the flicks. For hoorah, the Ipswich Film Theatre -- one of the town's precious few cultural jewels -- is back from the dead.

Me and her were regulars back in the day, taking in a Steve Martin double bill before tucking into a perfect pizza at the much-missed Noble Romans (don't look for it now, kids). Or catching the latest Coen Brothers. Or going dead arty in screen 2 for Le Samourai. Or thrilling to Reservoir Dogs, or Blue Velvet, or a challenging Peter Greenaway. Or even Hoop Dreams, an amazing basketball documentary: OK, that was me and me alone.

Out popped those kiddies and the cinematic outings dried up like a flannel on a patio. Maybe everyone else was also reproducing, 'cos audiences dropped off and the IFT kind of disappeared, morphing into the more mainstream Hollywood Cinema. That too conked out, leaving the town with the popcorn delights of Cineworld. 3D, sir?

Evidently after much slogging by a bunch of fine volunteers, Ipswich's arts cinema re-opened tonight. I felt obliged to go along -- use it or lose it -- and was gobsmacked by A Single Man. Everything looks better on the big screen, but that is one classy film. Especially enjoyed the ultra slo-mo scene with Colin Firth driving away from home, pointing a pretend gun at his neighbour's kid, and also when he pulled up at a liquor store in front of a huge blue Psycho poster. And you have to see the colours of those sharpeners to believe them.

Nice one, Ipswich Film Theatre Trust. Fancy having a go at Broomhill Pool?