Ch-ch-ch-changes

When I was young or to put it another way, a long time ago, I was prone to excessive maudlin episodes that were often punctuated by my Dad telling me to “smile” or “cheer up”, to which I would grimace and mutter something ungrateful under my breath. Later, much later I remember seeing Janet Street Porter interviewed by a group of teenagers complaining that the world wasn’t fluffy enough, to which they were told to stop whining; thus introducing me to the genuinely new experience of liking Janet Street Porter. If only I could figure out what happened in-between...