It's 1987 and after years of waiting I finally watch The Hunger on VHS, an uber stylish vampire flick in which David Bowie ages before my eyes and Susan Sarandon has an unforgettable close encounter with Catherine Deneuve.
A few months later I'm in a Wolverhampton cinema watching Top Gun. A mate's girlfriend leaves before the film starts so he goes after her while I soak up the lush visuals if not the preposterous plot.
Though Beverly Hills Cop 2 is a massive letdown it proves watchable escapism for a couple of hours, but by 1995 I'm on the edge of my seat. Crimson Tide proves to be one of the best sub thrillers in years and marks the beginning of a successful relationship with Denzel Washington.
The Fan is less memorable, but True Romance, Man on Fire, Deja Vu and Unstoppable are brooding, epic, silly and great entertainment.
I've spent 25 years watching Tony Scott work his magic on the big screen so when I'm sat at Newark airport one Saturday night in August 2012 I stare at Entertainment Weekly in disbelief. The Geordie action maestro has been dead a week; I'd been hermetically sealed on a cruise with little news filtering through.
It takes me days to get over it and even now, a week later, it's hard to believe there will be no more hyper stylish, silly adventures from the king of action cinema. He never won an Oscar or bafta, but Tony Scott won many fans.
Hell be sorely missed.