Born in 1977

Back in 1977, the air felt thick with the smell of cheap hairspray and diesel fumes, and every terraced street seemed to be draped in Union Jack bunting for the Silver Jubilee. You couldn't turn on the telly without seeing the Queen’s smiling face or some local vicar getting competitive over a Victoria sponge at a street party. We were all huddled around flickering sets watching *The Good Life*, sipping on lukewarm Watneys Red Barrel or a glass of Blue Nun if we were feeling posh.

It was the year things felt like they were shifting; you had the Sex Pistols causing a right stink on the Thames, yet everyone’s mum was still humming along to ABBA’s "Knowing Me, Knowing You." The summer was a bit of a washout compared to the scorcher of ’76, but we didn’t care because *Star Wars* had just landed at the cinema, blowing our tiny minds with special effects we’d never dreamed of. Kids were obsessed with their new Raleigh Choppers or clacking those lethal Clackers together until their wrists went blue.

Whether you were tucking into a Golden Wonder crisp sandwich or waiting for *Top of the Pops* to start, there was this sense that, despite the strikes and the gloom, we were all in it together.