mostly david ephgrave

Like most people, Guy Fawkes Night calls to mind memories of my childhood. I grew up in Stevenage: a much-maligned town, though when I was younger I wouldn’t hear a word said against it. I was an only child – and as a result, would spend a lot of time in my own company, entertaining myself. I was obsessed with magic into my mid-teens – and would often been found in my mum’s bedroom, practicing the latest trick I’d bought mail-order from Davenport’s Magic Shop in front of the only full-length mirror in the house. Any time not spent working on my sleight of hand was split evenly between Stevenage Indoor Market (looking for vinyl to add to my ever-growing record collection), or riding my BMX Panther around the town’s many cycle paths. Mine was a simple childhood. Our house was in the old town in the midst of a natural valley – and my mum’s bedroom window looked out on a view that impressed me. The garden backed onto an allotment with the railway line just behind it. Bey...