Our new series on transformative theatrical discoveries begins with the surreal 1986 drama set on a street in Lancashire
I must have been about 14. Our English teacher had taken us to a library and set us a task. We were to choose any book from the shelves and start reading. I wandered around, went to the toilet a few times, pretended to look for a book. Eventually, my teacher caught me. He glared: why don’t you have a book in your hand like everybody else? I turned to my right and spotted a small section of books that looked much thinner than the rest. Jackpot.
The first thing that struck me about the thing I had in my hands was how easy it was to read. This was not the kind of language I had come across in English lessons, a language I found impossible on account of some dyslexia, and an inclination towards staring out of windows.
