For a month or so after our epic Manchester weekend, I didn’t hear much from Rachel. My old insecurities began to surface as self-doubt and self-loathing paid me many late-night visits following a welcome absence. Rachel and I still talked once a week, but for me, this was no longer enough. I wanted skin-to-skin contact and all the excitement that comes with it. Despite a few very close shaves, I managed not to return to...

Rachel was an enigma, a Yorkshire lass to the core. Broken, hurting, loving, cruel and kind in equal measure. She could fuck; she could cook, and so much more. We spent seven short years together, and this is our story. Rachel saved my life quite literally. Christmas Eve 2001, and my existence felt as if it no longer had meaning or purpose. I’d lost my business, my home and my wife all within the previous twenty-four mont...