When I left university in Manchester in 1988 I returned to London, where my first job was as a Wardrobe Technician at the English National Opera. At that point I was set on becoming a costume designer and thought that this would be a good way into the industry. However, I quickly became aware that there exists an ‘upstairs downstairs’ hierarchy in the theatre, which meant that that door would never be opened to me from backstage. My days were spent ironing shirts, washing socks and underwear, removing stains and mending tears to get everything ready for my floor of the men’s chorus when they arrived to start preparing for the evening show.

The 18 months I spent working there were an education on many levels, not least in the variety of cuisines that were available just a step away from the theatre. Most meals were taken in the theatre canteen, but when there were breaks between performances a group of us would head out to Covent Garden or Soho to eat. Many of the places we would go to don’t exist any longer. Lorelei, the tiny pizza restaurant where you had to bring your own wine, Gaby’s Deli on the Charing Cross Road where I first experienced falafel, The Stockpot and Pollo Bar on Old Compton Street, which had long queues well before ‘no bookings’ culture made them ubiquitous and the New Piccadilly Café where a Full English fried breakfast was served in an interior that hadn’t been touched since the 1950’s. All now gone.