Born in 1980

Back in 1980, the UK felt like it was wobbling between two different worlds, and yet it was a bloody marvel to live through. If you popped into the local for a pint of mild, the air was thick with Embassy No. 6 smoke and everyone was humming Blondie’s ‘Atomic’ or gawping at the Rubik’s Cubes that had just hit the shops.

I remember that winter being a proper heart-stopper, with the great big freeze turning the milk on the doorstep into frozen icy pillars with the foil caps perched on top. We were all obsessed with *Dallas*—honestly, the whole nation ground to a halt just to find out who shot J.R.

—and if you weren't watching that, you were probably cheering on the daring chaps during the SAS siege at the Iranian Embassy. Dinner was often something simple like a Findus Crispy Pancake or a bit of Smash, maybe washed down with a SodaStream pop if you were feeling posh. We’d head to the cinema to see *The Empire Strikes Back*, queuing round the block in our itchy woollen jumpers, feeling like the future had finally arrived, even if we were still heading home to a house with only three TV channels and a coal fire.

It was a bit grey, a bit gritty, but there was a warmth to it you just don't find anymore.