Born in 1961

Back in 1961, the world felt like it was finally shaking off the grey soot of the fifties and turning into something a bit more technicolour. If you stepped outside that winter, you’ll remember it was perishing; people were huddled in heavy wool coats, breath blooming in the air while Yuri Gagarin’s name was on everyone’s lips. It felt like the future had truly arrived.

At home, we’d crowd around the telly—the lucky ones with a brand-new set—to catch *Coronation Street*, which was still fresh and gritty, or perhaps *The Avengers* for a bit of Sunday night thrill. On the wireless, you couldn't escape Helen Shapiro singing ‘Walkin' Back to Happiness,’ and honestly, you didn't want to. If you had a few bob, you’d head to the cinema to see *Breakfast at Tiffany's* or *The Parent Trap*, clutching a box of Poppets.

Dinner was often something simple like a Fray Bentos pie or a tin of Heinz sponge pudding for a treat, washed down with a lukewarm Watney’s Red Barrel if you were at the local. Kids were obsessed with their Corgi cars or skipping ropes, blissfully unaware that the Cold War was simmering behind the headlines. It was a simpler, slower dance, but God, it was grand.