One of the things that happens when you grow up somewhere that isn’t a big city, and then you move to a big city (much like Babe, pig in the city), is that you inevitably carry your home town with you.

Regardless of your feelings towards it, whether the memories are sweet or traumatic, your eye will always be drawn to any news story, event, achievement – basically any mention of your previous home or people from there.

For me, that place is a regional city in Queensland, Australia, called Toowoomba. It’s known as “the Garden City” by some and “the Meth and Garden City” by others, and I have a complicated relationship with it.

I spent the 80s and 90s growing up closeted in

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