After a night in a medical tent unable to stand, I felt a soft but unmistakable warmth – love | The moment I knew

It took time apart, a Ministry of Sounds Chillout Session and a brush with a drug overdose for Nigel Featherstone to reunite with his partner

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In February 1997, at midnight, I was riding my pushbike through a park on my way to Canberra’s city centre when I somehow became sprawled on the ground, my palms bloodied and covered in gravel. Earlier I had been drinking with friends; now, so it seemed, a fence had come out of nowhere.

Every week that summer I had been going to Heaven, Canberra’s only gay nightclub. I had told no one about my nocturnal adventures. Nor had I met anyone. I had grown up listening to the Cure, not Madonna. Rather than go shopping, I could talk for hours about the Irish novelist Colm Tóibín. Sitting around a campfire was my thing, not pumping weights.

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