Do you remember when we used to rush back from school to see what our mothers had cooked, whether it was stuffed vegetables or koshari with liver, and then we'd play Monopoly, or go to our rooms to play Amr Diab's new tape? When his tapes were released, cassette shops would be busy for a while and the lines would be long. Or we'd listen to Ihab Tawfik singing "Jani" and Mostafa Kamar getting excited with "Al-Leila Dobb." We accepted our fate and joined universities, and our hangout was in the cafeteria that played Mohamed Mounir. When we asked the worker to change the song, he would say, "Is there anyone else who can sing better?"

We studied to the tunes of Khaled Agag's "Wa7ashtiny 3adad Nojoom El Sama" and my dad would call me, "My daughter, come make me a cup of tea," while I had just returned from my geography lesson in high school.

Fridays were our only day off back then. We had breakfast together and watched "Children's Cinema" with Mama Afaf and Mama Nagwa, and the "Hayati" program, which I still don't understand why we watched even though it had nothing to do with our age. Maybe that's why we turned out to be a generation older than our age, right? Sheikh Shaarawi followed by an old Arabic movie. Those were the days, pure and sweet, without technology, mobile phones, or YouTube that changed our lives. Any movie or program could be watched today or tomorrow without any urgency. Back then, TV had meaning and value.

The evenings with family, and my brother asking, "Do you know how to make fries, Shaimaa?" so he could snack while watching "Layali El Helmeya" or "Arabesque." I remember my sister's birthday, filled with Pepsi bottles, a homemade cake, and rice pudding made by my mom. The balloons we spent two days inflating. We all took pictures together, and I remember the fuchsia dress, a masterpiece, and the latest fashion made by my aunt instead of going to the seamstress who always had a lot of work back then.

Days like those don't come back; let's bring them back.

I believe we, especially here in London, are the most nostalgic for those beautiful days, more than anyone else. We try to relive them and we will, even if just for a few hours.

In conclusion, we must realize that this nostalgia is not just a passing feeling, but a reminder of the value of simplicity and beauty in the details of our daily lives. Those days were not burdened with technology and distractions that steal our true moments of joy. So, let's make our memories a beacon to light our way towards building a future that combines progress with deep human connection. Let's live with the spirit of the nineties, making every day an opportunity to relive those beautiful moments, to cherish and pass them on to future generations.