I remember Radio City Musical Hall and Madison Square Gardens, probably because those around me kept telling me, but I don’t quite remember all the places in between. Most of them where massive and named after American Airlines. I remember the first time I appeared on stage. I was four and I’d learned to ride my bike hours before the competition, the dancing competition was an inconvenience to be honest as riding in circles is much more fun. I remember knowing, cocky as it sounds, that I was good. My first professional stage appearance would have been Drury Lane Theatre in London, one of the Capital’s oldest haunts – an infamous and grand theatre, steeped in history. But that’s not all. The best thing about it was it was bang in the middle of Covent Garden and you had to walk through the cobbled streets as well as getting through the Tube and the rudeness, before finally pushing through the doors that say- Backstage Only. This was the real honour getting in through these doors, performing on stage was your job but getting the backstage pass was the holy grail. After the performance, I’d bypass Cats, the Royal Ballet and all the theatre goers. I’d even keep my horrific show make-up on to show off that I’d been part of something special that night. Getting to backstage isn’t quite the fairytale, and to say there were tears, tantrums and horrors would be a gross under statement. You’d think it would be all about lines and formation and who kicked the highest but this was not so.