My Childhood Bedroom
It still exists, architecturally speaking, my childhood bedroom, but the various skins it has shed exist only in memories. It changed with the times, my needs and my tastes, but it probably peaked in coolness when I was nine or ten. Before young teenage me decorated it in the grey, red, white and black of a million teenage bedrooms, before older teenage me covered those grey zigzags with pictures cut out of Melody Maker and the NME, a Desperately Seeking Susan poster took pride of place on Black Hole wallpaper. Madonna and ropey science fiction. It still doesn’t get much better than that.