1987. Guildford School of Acting and Dance Stage Management course. Fresh out of school desperate to find the queer tribe Frinton’s cold sands would never give me. Dyed my hair, tucked my black knitted polo neck into my beige chinos (it was the look apparently), spent months on the wrong side of the Greyhound pub, and hooked up with some GSA darlings who played harder than I’d ever known and blagged my way through. I never finished of course – unknown to me then my autistic wiring ensuring could never stick to the plan but those days in Guildford seemingly forever working backstage at a panto (oh yes I did), dressed as a black death extra from 1665 or broken by a bottle bank on tequila thanks to a heartache imported from Portsmouth will forever be a part of the teenage years that made me. A queer forever fixated on the crush that never could be, a lifelong love of Guinness, and a new obsession called DJing (it’ll never last), grateful for the Whitney loving guidance of a Hamnett hero called Mark and friendship of geeks and freaks newly found.