Born in 1963

Back in 1963, if you were nursing a pint of mild or a stiff gin and tonic, you’d likely be complaining about the "Big Freeze" first and foremost. That winter was brutal—snow piled up to the windowsills and the sea actually froze over at Herne Bay. We spent months shivering by a single flickering coal fire, watching the ice grow on the inside of the windowpanes.

But the shivering turned to goosebumps for a different reason when the Fab Four truly took over; you couldn't nip down the High Street without hearing "She Loves You" blaring from a transistor radio or seeing girls in beehives swooning over a copy of *Mersey Beat*. On the telly, we were all hiding behind the sofa as the very first Daleks glided onto the screen in *Doctor Who*, and everyone was buzzing about that rogue Steptoe and his horse. It wasn't all pop songs and sci-fi, mind; the Great Train Robbery felt like something out of a film, and we all mourned JFK while sipping our Brooke Bond tea.

For tea, it was probably a Fray Bentos pie or maybe a splurge on a Vesta curry if you were feeling exotic. It was a year where the old world felt like it was finally cracking, and something loud, bright, and utterly new was rushing in to take its place.