Born in 2024

Back in 2024, life felt like it was moving at a hundred miles an hour, yet we still spent half our time complaining about the damp and the price of a pint. If you’d popped into any local back then, you’d have heard "Seabird" or some floor-filler by Charli XCX playing over the speakers, while everyone argued about whether *The Traitors* was better than the first season. It was a proper summer of sport, wasn't it?

We all crowded around pub screens, nursing lukewarm IPAs or those bright orange Aperol Spritzes, heart in mouth as Southgate’s boys broke our hearts in Berlin. I remember the weather being particularly temperamental—one minute you’re dodging a sudden April downpour, the next you’re watching the sky turn neon pink and green because the Northern Lights decided to show up over the Midlands for once. Everyone was obsessed with those massive "Stanley" cups that looked like they belonged on a building site, and kids were permanently glued to *Roblox* or trading stories about that bizarre Willy Wonka scandal up in Glasgow.

Even with the election talk and the cost of everything going north, there was something brilliant about it—queuing for *Barbie* or *Dune* at the Odeon, and that collective sigh of relief once the sun finally cracked the flags.