Born in 1985

Back in 1985, life felt like it was playing out in a much brighter, louder hue, even if the winter was so biting that the fountains in Trafalgar Square actually froze solid. If you wandered into a pub like this back then, you’d be dodging a thick fog of cigarette smoke to order a pint of heavy or perhaps a cheeky Cinzano and lemonade, while *Into the Groove* by Madonna blared from the jukebox. It was the year we all sat glued to our massive, wood-panelled tellys for *Live Aid*, watching Freddie Mercury hold the world in the palm of his hand while we tucked into a Bird’s Eye Potato Waffle or a bit of Viennetta for a treat.

The kids were obsessed with their Cabbage Patch Kids or trying to master the Yo-yo again, while the older lot were queueing at the Odeon to see *Back to the Future* or *Expectations*. You couldn't walk down the high street without seeing someone in a shell suit or with hair held up by an entire can of Harmony hairspray. It was a bit chaotic, what with the end of the miners' strike and the excitement of the first mobile phone call being made, but there was a proper sense of community; you’d lean over the garden fence to gossip about the latest cliffhanger on *EastEnders*, which had just started that February.

Everything felt new, slightly plastic, and utterly unforgettable.