The year I turned 18: It was 1990 and the news was full of riots. But I was dreaming of love and the life to come
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It’s 36 years since I came of age in the English seaside. What’s become of my friends and the boy I adored? And could I somehow reconnect with that long-ago me? I headed back to my home town to find outThe house in which I turned 18 was full of clocks. Dark wooden things with aged faces. Every room ticked. If you stood in certain doorways, you could hear all the misaligned second hands racing. I could not understand why anyone would want to count away life like that or decorate their living quar
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