• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 10

Thinking in Analogue

No gadgets charged in those sockets,
nothing buzzed in our pockets
Power plugs lit up TVs and stereos,
we’d listen to records, cassettes, or the radio.

Screens didn’t shield us from boredom,
on the holidays we launched tin foil rockets
into the skies,
built dens, made mud pies.
We’d go off the beaten track in pac-a-macs,
only heading back home
when they switched on the street lamps.

Our memories weren’t stored
on some cloud for posterity,
sideboards displayed our photos and trophies.

Tablets were things
that shifted headaches.
We drained ice cream sundaes
without the need for a selfie,
and Spam was a teatime treat.

If we needed new skates
we saved our pocket money,
we couldn’t choose one-click
with next day delivery.

We couldn’t binge on catch up TV and box sets
we embraced mystery and suspense
dangling from a cliff
‘til the following week… was tense.


Thinking in Analogue

The world wide web was
woven by penfriends,
we’d wait weeks for their letters
then steam off the stamps
to paste in our albums.

We collected things
like bruises and scrapes and stings.
We heard ‘bout the birds and the bees
through Chinese whispers and older siblings.

We didn’t start writing to Santa
midway through the year,
tracking his sleigh on the app.
to tell us when he’d be here.

The only thing viral were chicken pox parties
Life hacks were passed down by grandmas
Trolls still lived under bridges
We went phishing with a net and jam jar.

There were no scammers or spammers
no snoopers or haters,
we friended people on our terms
and when we dreamt stuff up,
the odds had us down as trail blazers.

And each night
after we’d drained our baths
the ring of dirt that clung to the sides
was a sign we’d had a good laugh.

No emoji on earth could have told us that.