Born in 1975

Back in 1975, life felt a bit more tactile, didn’t it? You’d walk into the lounge and the air would be thick with the scent of Embassy Filter and wood-panelled tellies warming up to catch *The Generation Game* or *Fawlty Towers*. It was a year of bizarre contrasts; we were all humming along to "Bye Bye Baby" by the Bay City Rollers while the news was full of the North Sea oil finally coming ashore and the first female leader of the Tories.

Honestly, we spent half our time peeling the foil lids off Glass Cola bottles or tucking into a plate of Findus Crispy Pancakes, probably washed down with a lukewarm Party Four if you were lucky. The kids were obsessed with the new Evel Knievel stunt bikes or trying to master a Space Hopper without ending up in the rosebushes. We had that scorching hot summer, too—lawns turning to straw and the local pools absolutely packed.

If you headed to the cinema, you were likely queuing round the block to get a fright from *Jaws*, though we still had the Wombles on the radio to calm our nerves. It was simpler, scruffier, and undeniably golden.