Carol McGiffin
‘One night last week, Mark and I stayed up until almost 2am, something we haven’t done in at least a year. I wish we’d been partying, but actually we were having a civilised glass of wine and watching back-to-back shows about Eighties music. It made us both sad and happy.
Music, you see, is a memory trigger. Of people, of clothes, of places, of good and bad times. And people need it right now, which is why TV is flooded with look-backs, documentaries, retro sitcoms – because the world isn’t particularly happy or pleasant, and when it’s not, people tend to hark back to the past, when things were better.
Some will argue that they weren’t, but the more things change as rapidly as they have in recent years, the more I’m convinced they were.
I’ve lived through the Swinging Sixties, the Psychedelic Seventies, the Loadsamoney Eighties, the No-Money Nineties, the Thoughty Noughties and the Twenty Tenties.
I loved the Eighties for its decadence. London was buzzing, the fashion was insane, wine bars and cocktails were huge, music was eclectic, and as I said, there was money everywhere.
But for me, it’s always been the Seventies and the Noughties.
In the Seventies I was a teenager, excited by discovering life and behaving badly, working, driving, clubbing, smoking and drinking. The Noughties, I’d found my way on to TV, earning decent money, I had a great flat, great friends and great holidays. Best of all, I met the love of my life. And right now, given where we are, I’d return to any one of them.’