Last month, I declared that what with wedding planning, various home improvement projects and writing as well, I'd had it absolutely up to here with making decisions, and I wanted to have a day of fun that was planned for me. Rising to the occasion, my fiance planned not one but two surprise-fun days, after which I felt considerably better. Reflecting on them, one in particular stands out. We had a vaguely India-themed day, meaning we went to a highly-rated Indian fusion restaurant in the centre of town (Moti Mahal, if anyone's interested), and then we went to see Slumdog Millionaire.

That's right: on a planned day-of-fun, we went to the movies. As a special treat.

Ten years ago, I would have considered this a bit of a low-key way to spend a special day. Last month, though, it was a big thing, and not just because Slumdog Millionaire was charming. It was a treat because the cinema has become something of a rare excursion for us - and I don't think we're alone.

On the face of it, this is odd. There's a cinema within walking distance of our house. We both love movies. When we were undergraduates - at the same university, though we didn't meet until after graduation - we both went to the cinema a lot. I dropped by the Cambridge Arts Cinema board every week to see what was new, and quite often I'd buy a ticket: the place was amiably small and a little scruffy, the tickets were cheap, and I could pretty much be sure that whatever they were showing would be at least an interesting experience. Both of us dropped by the local multiplex regularly as well: the tickets were cheap, especially for students, it was within walking distance, and it showed whatever was on. He'd go regularly with groups of friends; my friends and I tended to do other things when hanging out but I went regularly on my own, often as a rest from revising - it would be a total distraction that lasted a limited amount of time, the perfect study break. Sometimes I just walked there and bought a ticket for whatever was showing next, with predictably mixed results, but that was fine; Patch Adams might not have been the most sophisticated film in the world, but it was a pleasant, manageable break from routine, and I was hardly the poorer for the experience.

You'll notice a phrase recurring in our reasons for picking the various cinemas: 'tickets were cheap.' This is a big part of what's changed. There are a few issues that have changed cinema-going over the past few years, and this week, I'll be posting about them.

At the risk of sounding like some old bat lamenting that ice cream used to cost a penny, money is the first one. Ticket prices have risen far out of proportion to income. This is not good for cinemas: it drives away custom. If it costs three pounds to see a movie, you may well drop in just on the off-chance you like it; if it costs three or four times that - and in the central London cinemas it does - then you'd better be sure that you'll really, really like it. Otherwise you might as well do something else with your money. Cinema tickets are getting as expensive as the more moderately-priced theatre tickets, and people don't often go to the theatre. Well, I used to, again as an undergraduate ... but you know why? It was student productions, and tickets were cheap.

So going to the cinema has become a big deal now. It seems to me that cinemas are trying various ways to keep afloat, and have been for some time, but most of their methods aren't very effective. To stay in profit with falling custom, there are two tactics - you either cut costs or increase prices. Cinemas seem to be doing both ... and it's not good for customers. Tune in next time for the first example...