However hard I tried to think of something cool and unusual as my inspiration, I couldn’t ignore my architect father’s influence. From day one, he proudly instructed me to hold my pencil correctly and to respect it. That may not be a priority when nurturing a toddler, but I’m glad he thought it was.
My wonder escalated at a ferocious pace – watching his liberal sketching style, his enviable chiselled handwriting and the sharpening of a pencil with a knife. Over the years came the invention of a collapsible tennis net, the design of a pit lane garage for my Scalextric track and the construction of a fully operational mechanical crossbow, to name just a few moments of awe.
Growing up with a parent who created things made it difficult not to want a career creating things myself. I was so inspired at one stage of my childhood, I confidently told everyone I wanted to be an architect – but later decided I didn’t have the patience for building construction and didn’t really fancy wearing a suit to work.
My dad it is then. Oh, and the tunes of Biffy Clyro and the scribblings of George Orwell. Well, I had to say something cool&…