1978: At seventeen, I left a fractured home in Cowplain with my best mate Robin, a couple of guitars, and not much of a plan. What followed was a headlong tumble through the hellscape that was Dagenham, stripping asbestos in a frozen power station, dodgy drug deals at knifepoint in Tangiers, to the “glamour” of the pubs and nightclubs of Jersey, the frozen bars of Norway, and even the grim chalets of Butlins Pwllheli — a tale of music, friendship, chaos and survival in Thatcher’s Britain.
Robin and I isn’t just a musician’s memoir; it’s a coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of the 1980s, where opportunity and escape could be found through music, but so too could temptation, burnout, and self-doubt. At its heart is the bond between two young men chasing songs and girls across Europe, bound together by bravado and loyalty, and undone at times by recklessness and fear.
Told with humour and unflinching honesty, the memoir captures the thrill of being young and hungry in a world just opening up — the smoky euphoria of a Springsteen encore in a Bergen bar, the absurdity of dodging falling plaster and feral kids in Butlins, and the darker moments when loneliness or addiction threatened to overwhelm.
This is a story about friendship, music, and finding a way forward when the lights fade and the crowd goes home.