IT wasn’t something he fell into, it was his playground. At nine years old, while most kids were mashing buttons, Steve was writing his first lines of code and discovering that “hello world” wasn’t just text on a screen, it was a secret door. Open this, and the system talks back. That spark never went away. He still pokes at problems from odd angles, pulls them apart, and puts them back together cleaner than before.

His career started at the Press Association as a Support Specialist, where he quickly learned the most important lesson in IT: you don’t actually know as much as you think you do. From there, he’s led support desks, datacentre teams, and IT operations, quietly building the confidence that comes from knowing you can figure things out, ideally before the phone starts screaming.

Steve will happily turn his hand to whatever’s needed. Automating the boring stuff so humans don’t have to. Cleaning up data that looks like it’s been through a blender. Sketching scrappy prototypes that slowly, inevitably, become tools people rely on. He cares about doing things properly, clean code, sensible tests, documentation that doesn’t make you wince, and details that most people wouldn’t even notice, but would absolutely miss if they were gone.

Outside of work, he’s a committed tinkerer in all forms. Evenings mean binge-watching something decent with his better half, coaxing tunes out of a guitar, or disappearing into a DIY project fuelled by optimism and questionable levels of sanding. If it beeps, strums, or needs a power drill, Steve’s already interested.

He’s not loud about it, but Steve makes systems calmer, cleaner, and easier to live with. Curiosity first, ego last, and just enough stubbornness to see a problem all the way through.