Age brews nostalgia. "Those were the days..." and "Remember when...' sentences rattle from my mouth like a nervous twitch.

This morning I woke up with a longing for a simple life, not the televised kind starring Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie in their skimpy wear. My figure is long past that stage of fashion. I'm talking about a life when we have less yet contentment and satisfaction brim.

I remember those days when as a child, living in a kampong, a village compound, in Singapore, families and neighbours bonded. We shared whatever little we had. In the late sixties, I think only one family owned a television in the kampong.

Every day, it was open house. Children and adults squirming with excitement streamed to that household. We crammed in their living room and ogled at the screen, watched limited programmes on one of two channels available. I remember the buzz of static, the alien antennas and the click of the chunky knobs. We laughed, we chatted, we discussed - together.

Now I find myself with more than thirty channels available at the touch of a button yet it's not unusual to hear, "Boring, nothing to watch." What is wrong with me?

I have so much, I do so much and yet I find emptiness. I guess what I'm saying is less possession and more soul is needed, at least in my life.

Here's to those days....