If you’ve ever wandered through East London and caught sight of a burst of colour that seems to wink at you, something part comic strip, part album cover, part childhood memory, you might have stumbled across the work of Carl Stimpson.

Childhood is often remembered as a blur of colour, play, and imagination. A time when toys, doodles, and family keepsakes seemed both...

Love, as it turns out, couldn’t care less about appearances. Love doesn’t notice that you’ve put on a few pounds or that you have A LOT less hair than you used to, it also, remarkably, doesn't care that your laugh sounds like a startled goose.

It’s 1987. My mum, dad, sister Emily, and I are boarding a coach in Newport, Wales, bound for Bargoed.