Born in 1996

Back in 1996, there was this undeniable hum in the air, a feeling that Britain had finally found its groove again. If you wandered into a pub back then, you’d likely find us hunched over a pint of Caffrey’s or a fluorescent Hooch, shouting to be heard over *Three Lions* or Oasis blasting from the jukebox. It was the year of Euro ’96, and for a few glorious, sun-drenched weeks, we actually believed football was coming home—right up until Southgate’s penalty, of course.

Everything felt loud and vivid; the Spice Girls were everywhere, teaching us about "Girl Power" while we obsessively fed our digital Tamagotchis. On the telly, we were all glued to *TFI Friday* or mourning along with the rest of the country as the curtains finally closed on the Charles and Diana era. I remember the queues for the cinema were round the block for *Independence Day* or *Trainspotting*, and if you weren't wearing a pair of baggy Joe Bloggs jeans or a Ben Sherman shirt, you weren't really trying.

Even a simple trip to Safeway felt different then, grabbing a Viennetta for pudding while the radio hummed with George Michael’s *Fastlove*. It was just a cracking time to be alive, wasn't it?