Born in 1982

Back in 1982, life felt like it was shifting from black-and-white into neon, though the wallpaper in most houses was still a stubborn shade of oatmeal. We spent the spring glued to the news as the Task Force headed for the Falklands, but we balanced that heavy air by losing ourselves in the spectacle of the Mary Rose being raised from the Solent. On the telly, you didn’t dare miss an episode of *The Young Ones* or the very first night of Channel 4, and we all spent our Tuesday nights mesmerised by the "new" synth-pop sounds of The Human League or Culture Club on *Top of the Pops*.

It was the year of the great freeze—absolute drifts of snow in January—followed by a summer where we sat in the garden nursing a glass of Cinzano and lemonade or a lukewarm pint of Watneys. Kids were obsessed with their BMX bikes or frantically twisting a Rubik’s Cube until the stickers peeled off, and we all queued round the block to see *E.T.

*, clutching a bag of Pear Drops and sobbing into our parkas. It was a time of Vesta curries, the arrival of the Ford Sierra, and that specific, crackling thrill of a brand-new ZX Spectrum—all while ‘Come on Eileen’ seemed to play from every passing car window.