SO it’s farewell to the ABC, the high street chain that became one of the biggest names in cinema’s glory days.

The Associated British Cinemas brand, which started out in 1928, has been gradually phased out in recent years, and earlier this month the final credits rolled at the last remaining ABC cinema, in Bournemouth, which is to be turned into flats.

Many cities in Yorkshire has a picture house on practically every street corner in the pre and post-war heyday of cinema. The ABC that I remember, from the 1980s, was a triple-screen venue on Bradford city centre and had, I recall, a snazzy foyer with a gold carpet. Even under the ownership of Cannon, it was still known as the ABC - or the Ritz by older cinema-goers.

In York, the ABC on Piccadilly. As the multiplexes took hold in the Eighties, it closed in June, 1986, was demolished in 1989, and a Marks & Spencer homeware store was built on the site.

Films I saw at the ABC included Witness, in which I fell in love with Harrison Ford, and ET, which left my little sister distraught. She was practically carried out in floods of tears, and has never been allowed to forget it.

Going to the cinema has been part of my life for as long as I can remember, right from being taken to see Disney’s Robin Hood, with a dashing cartoon fox in the title role.

I have vivid memories of cinema trips. A family outing to see Grease at Shipley’s Unit 4 ended with us digging the car out of snow, belting out Summer Nights on a sub-zero winter evening. A year earlier I queued with my dad and brother for an eternity outside the Odeon to see Star Wars - when we finally reached the entrance a rope was pulled in front of us and we were told it was full. I think I lost the inclination to see Star Wars right then, and have never seen it to this day.

From Saturday morning picture shows to first dates, the cinema is a backdrop to our lives. There’s nothing like the escapism of sinking into a seat in the darkness and losing yourself in celluloid. Occasionally, if I have a spare afternoon, I enjoy going to the cinema alone. It feels blissfully indulgent.

Going to the pictures with children is fun, although their film choices can be hit and miss. Taking my nephews to see Transformers a few years ago, my hearts sank when I discovered, on the way in, that it was over two-and-a-half hours long. Barely 30 minutes in, the fidgeting youngest nephew was asking if it was “nearly finished”.

Multiplexes revolutionised cinema-going and, with their surround sound and reclining seats, continue to lure people away from TVs and laptops. We can watch films on any pretty much device these days, but nothing compares to sitting in plush velvet in front of a big screen, in hushed darkness.

But while multiplexes serve a purpose, they’re soulless compared to delightful old picture houses. Maybe I have a soft spot for these old cinemas because my grandad ran Hebden Bridge Picture House in West Yorkshire's Calder Valley for a while in the 1950s. Whenever he wanted to fill the place he put Wuthering Heights on, which apparently “got them flocking in from the hills”.

Pre-multiplex cinemas remain close to our hearts - one man has even built his own ABC-style cinema in his back garden, complete with a kiosk and original ‘exit’ signs.

Nice to know that a piece of the ABC lives on. It was a world away from today's brash foyers with noisy video games, giant popcorn buckets and over-priced nachos - and that's why we loved it.

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