For many who grew up in London during the 1970s, the Cold War was far more than a distant headline; it was a physical presence, often perched high above our heads. For those of us who spent our formative years at Moreland Street School on Goswell Road, that presence took a very specific and distinctive…
There are fragments of our childhood that, decades later, shine with undiminished clarity. For me, many of those luminous memories are bound up with the school trips that took us, term after term, to the hallowed halls of Sadler’s Wells Theatre. We were barely out of single digits, under 10 years of age, wide-eyed and…
In the autumn of 1977, London was a city of stark contrasts. I was a young boy just starting his first term at Sir Philip Magnus School, the world felt like it was expanding. The transition from primary school to the imposing corridors of secondary school was a rite of passage, marked by the rush…
My grandad was, for all intents and purposes, my dad. A proud Lancastrian with a formidable work ethic, he was a man of quiet discipline. Having served as a Grenadier Guardsman during the war, he carried that military precision with him for the rest of his life. He did not drink or gamble; his only…