It was the 1980s again and I was living in an abandoned sweatshop on Brick Lane with a much better version of my (worst ever) boyfriend.   He’d become a nice person and I had a really great haircut and a new tattoo on my shoulder.  I was working to raise money for the miners, looking for (and knowing I deserved!) a better job and listening to Scritti Politti.  The 1980s were so much better the second time around!