Born in 1965

Back in 1965, the world felt like it was finally turning from monochrome to Technicolor, though most of us were still huddled around a tiny Ferguson telly watching *The Wednesday Play* or hiding behind the settee when the Daleks appeared in *Doctor Who*. It was the year we all hummed along to The Beatles' *Help!* while the scent of Fry’s Chocolate Cream and Woodbines lingered in the air.

I remember the hush that fell over the country in January when Sir Winston Churchill passed away—it felt like the end of an era, even as the miniskirts were getting shorter on the streets of London. If you weren’t at the cinema watching Julie Andrews twirl in *The Sound of Music*, you were probably at home tucking into a plate of liver and onions followed by a tinned peach half for pudding. It was a cold, biting winter that year, but we didn’t mind; the kids were out on the pavement playing with their new Sindy dolls or racing Corgi cars through the slush.

We didn't have much, but with a pint of mild and a packet of Smith’s crisps—back when the little blue salt bag was still a novelty—life felt bloody marvellous.