Regular readers (or at least those from the last three weeks) will recall I was – and still am – a big George Michael fan. His records have been the soundtrack to my life and each one brings back fond memories.

While George Michael and Wham songs continue to pop up on my playlist more than usual, he has also sparked more memories than I expected.

In the days after George’s death, a friend of mine from journalism college, also a fan, got in touch via Facebook and sent me a photo of her wearing the very T-shirt we’d bought at a gig back in the 1990s.

Anyway, my friend got in touch again this week, as she’d been clearing out a cupboard and had come across piles of photos from our college days, old spoof newspapers we used to produce (if you’ve never seen a copy of the Blushing Trunip – with it’s deliberately mis-spelt title – you don’t know what you’ve missed) and plenty of other memorabilia.

“Look what I found!” said the message, followed by a photo of me looking much, much younger, wrinkle and worry free and a couple of stone lighter.

For reasons neither of us can remember, I’m all glammed up and smiling in front of a poster of our hero.

I laughed out loud. “Where on earth was that taken?” I messaged. “In your student digs?”

“Yes, that was my flat in Southsea,” she replied.

We then began to reminisce about the mad night when we entered a Miss Portsmouth competition. We only did it because we really fancied one of the footballers and I think he was a judge. While we thought it was a massive laugh, we quickly learnt there were girls who took it VERY seriously and worked a circuit of similar competitions.

In an age before fake tans were the norm, we were astonished to see girls putting blusher on their legs. What on earth were they doing?

Then there was the fancy dress party at my student house, where we turned lots of things pink trying to dye shirts so we could be the Pink Ladies from Grease, and then ruined the dining room table by putting it in the back yard in the rain. The varnish all lifted and we had to hide it from the landlord under a tablecloth for the rest of the term.

And then there was the panto. We put on a performance of Aladdin at the local hospital, I think. She was the beautiful Princess Jasmine and I was some lowly servant. I just remember having so much fun, and to this day I still know all the words to “I’m On Top of the World” by The Carpenters thanks to our big finale.

And all this while still going to lessons, learning everything from law to shorthand (even if we did duck out of one to buy George Michael tickets), covering umpteen meetings at Fareham council and doing all the match reports for Portsmouth’s home games.

Happy days.