![]() ![]() But, I’ve read a book and I think I’ve found a kindred spirit in Hadley Freeman. Now, with a fourteen year old daughter who has to listen to me bang about how films were better in the eighties and music in the nineties, I can see the eye rolling I must have given my dad all those years ago. Growing up in the eighties, I would hear how the sixties were the greatest, of how my Dad saw Hendrix play one evening in the RamJam Club in Brixton, how he felt when Hurst sealed his hat-trick in the 1966 World Cup Final and how he had lunch with a lovely young lady whom he had to be told later by the owner of the cafe that that was Twiggy. I don’t mean I’m falling apart (well, perhaps a bit) but I mean that I’m spending far of much of my time sounding like my father. I’ll be the first to admit it, at 37, I’m starting to feel my age. ![]()
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