“I had a teacher who was very good at getting us inspired to Shakespeare and the Romantics and the like,” Neil says, rather nostalgic, like it was a very great time ago and not just a couple of years. “And then I acted in one—I was Puck in Midsummer—and it was...”

Neil’s breathless for a moment, remembering it. I was good, he’d said so sadly to his mother, I was really good. Being in Much Ado and King Lear was good, but not the force that Midsummer had been.

He laughs again, now at himself. “They’ve got movies here. Even ones from home.”