Feminism? What feminism? I later thought.

One day after I’d lived there about six months, Marsh shouted up the stairs from the kitchen – we had to come in and out through the forced back door – ‘Come and see what the fuck we’ve got!’

I raced downstairs as fast as was possible, while avoiding the broken stair treads, hoping it was something really nice to eat. I’d have killed for roast chicken, and Marsh was the only other non-vegetarian, although we both pretended to the others that we were. I was so sick of veggie curry made with chickpeas and tinned plum tomatoes – or, as they were for some reason referred to in the squat, ‘wombat’s afterbirth’.

But it wasn’t a chicken, or a few packets of sausages he’d foraged from the bins at the back of Safeway. It was an amp, a couple of microphone stands and a bass guitar, all sitting on the filthy, peeling lino of the kitchen floor.

Marsh grabbed me round the waist and hugged me effusively, stinking of frib juice – as I’d learned to call patchouli oil – and weed. ‘It’s for us! Man, we’re starting a band!’

He always spoke like that, putting heavy emphasis on certain words as if he had to conserve his energy for the rest of them. I laughed, mentally picturing our motley, unwashed crew in a line-up next to sequinned and styled favourites like ABC and Duran Duran. ‘A band?’

‘Yeah man! The landlord at The Five Bells wanted to get rid of it all cos he’s getting a better rig. He said I could take it off his hands if I repainted the bogs for him.’

‘Wow.’ I examined the battered amplifier and the random cables and boxes, not having a clue how any of it worked. ‘But how will Matty’s guitar be heard over the top of this lot?’

Marsh smirked at my ignorance, scratching his long wispy beard to hide it. ‘His guitar’s got a pick-up. We just plug this’ – he held up a long cable – ‘into this and we’re in business. I’ll play bass, and for now we’ll have to do with bongos till we can get a drum kit, but, you know, it’s gonna be epic!’

‘Who’s going to be the lead singer?’ I foresaw fireworks – Marsh and Matty were both pretty competitive.

‘You are!’

I laughed, thinking he was joking. ‘No, really. I’ll do backing vocals.’ Then I saw the intense expression on his face. ‘What? You’re not serious.’

‘Totally serious! Why not? You’re way more interesting to look at than the rest of us, and you’ve got a great voice! We’ve got, like, ten songs now, plus covers? That’s more than enough for a set.’