Born in 2005

If you were born in 2005, you missed out on a year that felt like the last true hurrah of the analogue world before the smartphone took over our lives. I remember sitting in a sticky-floored pub while Crazy Frog’s *Axel F* blared out of someone’s Motorola Razr—a ringtone we all paid three quid for, God knows why. It was the year of the Long Hot Summer, where we spent July glued to the telly watching the Ashes, praying Flintoff could pull it off, while the whole nation was still humming James Blunt’s *You're Beautiful* whether we liked it or not.

We were all obsessed with the return of *Doctor Who*—Christopher Eccleston in that leather jacket felt like a proper event. Everyone was nip-tucking into a Nando’s for the first time or grabbing a Müller Corner while arguing about the finale of *Big Brother*. At the cinema, we were queuing up for *Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire*, though honestly, most of us were just trying to master the "S" drawing in the back of our exercise books or trading Live8 wristbands.

It was a simpler time; you’d top up your Nokia at the offy, grab a bag of Walkers Sensations, and feel like the world was alright.