An 80s kid reminiscing the 80s as it has been for her.

I’m an early eighties baby, the generation where boys went glass eyed over He-Man (yes, that muscleman and his league of extraordinary gentlemen if anyone can remember), Transformers (robotic voice: More than meets the eye) and Ultraman (The japanese version) and the girls went gaga (and some are still gaga) over Carebears, Strawberryshortcake and erm, whatever else there was (well i’m lost here, growing up with 3 brothers meant the male autocrats dictated my tv appetite) Not that I’m complaining, I did have my fair share of She-Ra from the He Man series (The embodiment of femininity and strength!)

What i remember fondly about my childhood was the play acting my brothers and I did. Our roles fitted us to a T. It was clear after each episode of Popeye or Ultraman, who was to assume the role of Olive and the hapless girl in distress.

Other memories that rush with nostalgia are made of these.

Of evening exercises. Trying to match up my dad’s stride across ACJC’s track. The morning walks. Heel and toes with Mom from Dover through Buona Vista and Holland, passing Jelita Shopping Centre to bring recess food for big brother who was studying at Henry Park Primary. The people. Like the only pork seller uncle at the market who led me to think that only men can be pork butchers (imagine the shock at i had when i moved to Bishan and visited the Ang Mo Kio markets when i was 9) The sights. Chickens kept in cages, were slaughtered on demand, there and then. Headless fowls doing walkabouts. The outings. I remember my favourite visits were to botanical gardens, where my mom bought “jiam tau roti” or as the french call “baguette” from nearby hawker centre (near Gleaneagles, it’s no longer around though) to feed the swans. Of school. There was some obsession with clean teeth. On top of the 3kg school bag (bring-everything-just-in-case mentality), toothbrush and a mug was a must. Brushing along drains after recess, a daily regime. And the pink tablets the dental nurse dispensed that could dissolve into dracula-ish red was much coveted amongst us kids. (Apart for some oral hygiene purpose, the real use of those tablets eludes me till this day)

Of life’s simple pleasures. Visits to National Library and cosying up to mom over bed time stories. As we moved from Dover to our new estate, we left behind our wooden post beds the stories were told on. Boiling water over stove for a luke warm bath gave way gladly to heater. And Dad forced Mom to give up on her red charcoal cooker on account of the burnt window grilles at Dover Well, I’ll be honest here and say I was glad to be relieved of that thankless job of fanning charcoals to dancing flames, if anything, it ate deep into my precious playtime. Unsuspectingly, we’ve embraced efficiency and modern living more quickly than we thought.

A couple years back, after more than ten years hiatus from the place of childhood dreams, I returned to Dover. The place seemed to have shrunk considerable, or perhaps I’ve grown. But the laid back charm of the little area remained. The uncles from the provisions shop aged, but a little. The teochew porridge stall still serves its signature “kong ba” dish, to my delight. Perhaps all these have changed since, but to me, the memories linger on. Tinged, with sweetness. Unchanging, within.