Growing up between countries, a family with 4 kids following my father’s work in the oil industry. Born in the Essex countryside the youngest of the 4 siblings and 8 cousins on my mothers side, always surrounded by elders; we enjoyed endless summers, the late summer smell of the warm Pimm's soaked grass at the cricket club, mums cooking, mud cakes in the garden, moving tree branches on a Sunday after elevenses, the smell of a smoking bonfire, sailing around walton-on-the-naze, the beach, big skys, fields and farms. Falling asleep on my fathers lap while he mowed the lawn with our little yellow sit-on mower.
Then off to Scotland, wet, grey and climbing up Bennachie most weekends, wet and cold slushy skiing, waiting in the cold to be picked up from school, Radio 1 in the morning, S Club 7 and Boyzone, Windows 95 and pentium II's. The millennium. Climbing around our burnt down mansion of a house, the brat-at-tat-bat of the Harley Davidson in the garage. Painting with Jean.
Norway, far too much light in the summer and only darkness in the winter, ice skating, snow, fish soup, saunas and ice cold water, summer holidays sailing around the fjords, Norway in a nutshell and the Preikestolen, the clackchunk mechanical shutter sound of my fathers Nikon F3, Lego. Underfloor heating.
One crazy year back in the UK with my mother, after renting out our family home while being away coming back to it being completely destroyed internally, living in a rented cottage while we renovated it, building Ikea furniture without any tools, listening to Dionne Warwick in the car, walks on the beach after shool with the dog.
Boarding school at eleven in Ireland, missing home, tea, toast, my first morphine at hospital, growing up fast learning to 'cop on' much too slow, baggy jeans and windows 98, pentium III's, learning to code in Microsoft BASIC, GTA 2 on friends playstation's and the Dave Matthews Band, the peril of English/Irish history not taught in Norway, or England, having my phone stolen at knife point in Limerick...
Sixth form college back in Essex at 16, art, media studies, maths, photography, physics, drums, guitar, live music at lunch-times, teenage drinking, glimmers of independence, filming biking videos with Trev, sitting exams, smoking, dial up internet and editing an Africa film for my mother. Sailing our little boat Dragoon for trips at the weekends. Sailing week with Charlie, growing up.
By the time I reached university in Liverpool, I had already worked more part time jobs than most people do in a lifetime, farm hand on the back of a potato harvester, farm hand writing business documents, farm hand painting, farm hand... cleaning out pig stys in the baking summer heat, removals man hauling furniture, 4 separate pub's kitchens and serving beer, GCSE maths support teacher, college cleaner, live-sound technician, wedding photographer, music festival area supervisor, university IT admin. At the time these were jobs so I could stand on my own feet, but each one sharpened something I still rely on today: resourcefulness, resilience, and the confidence that I can learn and do anything.
That kind of early childhood shrinks the world and erases imaginary borders. Identity not being forged by a passport but by experience. You learn quickly that there is always another way of living, another way of seeing, of being. Moving became normal; curiosity became instinct, and getting on with it became vital. My parents gave us endless experiences, we were always busy, concerts, theatre, dinner parties and meeting friends at the pub, building, moving, fixing, music, showing us the world. An unspoken, and often spoken why can't we do it? Of course you can do it. A level of ambition always 5 or 10 steps past the obviously possible.