Born in 1981

Back in 1981, it felt like the whole country was glued together by a single flickering television screen and a shared sense of ceremony. You couldn't walk down a terraced street in July without seeing bunting draped from every windowsill for the Royal Wedding; we all sat there with our lukewarm glasses of Panda Pop and a plate of bridge rolls, watching Diana’s train fill St Paul’s. It was a year of massive contrasts, really.

You’d have The Specials singing *Ghost Town* on the radio, capturing that gritty, grey mood of the riots, but then you’d flip over to *The Generation Game* or lose yourself in the first series of *Only Fools and Horses*. We were all obsessed with that bloody Rubik’s Cube—I remember skinning my thumbs trying to solve the thing—while the kids were screaming for a BMX or those tiny little Smurfs. If we weren't at the cinema watching *Raiders of the Lost Ark*, we were probably huddled round a Fondue set or tucking into a Coronation Chicken salad.

And lord, that winter! We were properly buried in snow by December. It was a bit messy, a bit magic, and honestly, I’d give anything for one more night out when Adam and the Ants were top of the pops.