As Tales of the Suburbs is published, the book’s author John Grindrod transports us into the experience of LGBTQ+ teenagers in twentieth-century suburbia.

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed ­– a single! – in a room filled with the clutter of a twentieth-century life.

Brown nylon bedding, board games, pictures torn from Look-in magazine blutacked to the wood chip wallpaper. Oh no, you sigh. You’ve time-travelled again. You’ve become a queer suburban teenager in 1975. It’s so annoying when this happens. Still, more fun than a Teams meeting.

Beside the bed, in a box marked URGENT: SURVIVAL KIT, I’ve sent help. For my book Tales of the Suburbs: LGBTQ+ Lives Behind Net Curtains I interviewed dozens of people about their experiences. They reminded me of all the cultural touchstones we had before the internet and apps created a more connected world. So here’s a few things I think may help you navigate these strange lost times. There’s a copy of Gay News, with articles on the new phenomenon of Pride marches, part of a world of hippy sexual revolution and second wave feminism. A paperback of Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City paints a vivid picture of queer life away from crushing suburbia, and there’s Rita Mae Brown’s autobiographical lesbian coming-of-age novel Rubyfruit Jungle too.

In the TV listings magazine Radio Times I’ve highlighted a few shows, like Are You Being Served?, a sitcom set in a department store where the breakout star, John Inman, plays camp menswear assistant Mr Humphries. For many, this was their only visible sign of LGBTQ+ culture (as it absolutely wasn’t known then), and even then it’s seemingly from another era. No hint of the struggle for gay rights or how recently sex between men over 21 had been decriminalised. BBC2 is showing the transgressive queer glam of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and, no less camp, Carry On Screaming, part of a film franchise loaded with queer stars such as Kenneth Williams and Charles Hawtrey. Finally, on weekly chart music show Top of the Pops, the re-release of David Bowie’s single ‘Space Oddity’ has reached number one. Bisexual Bowie, defying norms, was a hero to a generation of young queer people. Meanwhile Janis Ian’s devastating single ‘At Seventeen’ spoke for all shy and overlooked LGBTQ+ teens in its quiet misery.

In TV Times magazine, Katie Boyle’s agony column shares the phone number of a new helpline, Switchboard, to a lonely gay letter writer. Then at the bottom of the box there’s a copy of The Naked Civil Servant, Quentin Crisp’s memoir of a twentieth-century queer life, just adapted by ITV, which finally makes stars of the book and its author. It’s a lot to take in.

Under that is a picture book: Jenny Lives with Eric and Martin, about a child being brought up by same-sex parents, and cuttings showing the tabloid storm it faced. Lifelines appear in unexpected places. Magazines like Exchange and Mart have contact ads mingled amongst the second-hand cars and kitchen appliances. Perhaps the most poignant item is a public health leaflet, ‘AIDS: Don’t Die of Ignorance’, issued by the government to all homes, warning of the dangers of unprotected sex. The 1980s is a tough, combative time to grow up queer.

When you next wake you’re in a room with magic eye pictures, a Nintendo and posters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Welcome to 1999! This time the kit contains CD singles by the scratchy, angular androgynous bands of the day: Suede, Placebo, Skunk Anansie and, er, Steps. There’s a couple of books by heroic journalist Oscar Moore: his coming-of-age novel A Matter of Life and Sex, and his posthumously published autobiographical writings, PWA, about his experience of living with HIV/AIDS. There’s also Sarah Waters’ bestselling novel of a Victorian male impersonator and her dresser, Tipping the Velvet.

Tales of the Suburbs: LGBTQ+ Lives Behind Net Curtains by John Grindrod is out now in hardback, audio and ebook.