Member-only story
How Many Of Your Friends Stole Your Dreams?
Think of your very first memory. What do you see?
I see paper and sellotape and glue. Cardboard, tinfoil, and glitter.
I’m four years old, and I’m sitting on the dining room floor building towers and domes on a sea of glitter, letting my imagination run wild. Then my mother comes in and goes…wild.
‘The carpet!!’ she yells.
That was the first of many models, landscapes, and dioramas I built.
Both my mother and grandmother were in the theatre, and it fascinated me. How they built the interiors of houses, mansions, pubs and palaces, castles and hovels from wood and paint. Like I did with my glue and cereal packets. But instead of being miniature. These were life-size.
The best part was watching it change after each scene or act. Dark shapes would appear on stage as the lights dimmed. Then minutes later, a wood in medieval England came to life when the lights went up. Or a castle in 19th century Russia.
It was like living in an eternal make-believe and from then on, I knew theatre was my path.
The years go by…
I’m 18, and I’m about to head off to Nottingham to do a degree in Plant Biology.
