There’s a white door on stage – no frame, no wall: just the door. That and a dress-up box behind it are all that Neil Frost needs to paint a picture of his early life with his grandparents, growing up in eighties England.

The door is the backdrop for photos from his childhood – and for each image we see projected onto it, Frost recreates the costume on stage for us to enjoy.

But each costume tells a story, and it’s this that keeps the audience enthralled from the moment Frost steps out wearing a bowtie to tell us that we’re not coming in. His memories of school nativities, amateur dramatics and scout camps are hilariously told, but every tale has an element of nostalgia, of a simpler time – when all we had to remember was our full childhood address and telephone number.

Frost is a natural interacting with the audience – encouraging them to heckle and engage, and taking their shouted suggestions, he throws it all in the mix with his own memories. And he’s having as much fun as the audience too, improvising when things don’t quite go to plan.