The 'Home' in the 1980s
There were various gadgets about the house in the 1980s because it was a
time for innovation and exciting new labour-saving devices. The microwave
exploded (not literally) and came with its own cookbook! CD players were
everywhere, the Walkman (which sounded at the time like the worst superhero
ever), calculator watches, VHS and the Game Boy all appeared in our houses. But
what of the most memorable gadgets?
Breville Sandwich Toaster
The toasted sandwich maker required you to take two pieces of bread and choose a filling as long as one of the ingredients was cheese. It was no good just having ham or slices of chicken, you needed cheese so that something could give you third degree burns by sticking to the top of your mouth.
You'd place the filling between the bread and pop them in the toaster. The Breville had two hotplates which were bevelled (or 'brevilled' maybe?) in order to make your toastie look edible by sealing the bread around the edges and creating stripy burn marks the likes of which you might see on a pork chop. It didn’t have a timer or indicator light however, you had to keep lifting the top panel to see if the bread had been sufficiently burnt and therefore, the contents were capable of removing your taste buds with a temperature the Devil himself could only dream of. This tradition was carried on through the ages by the pop tart and the McDonalds Apple pie. Both of which are too hot for half an hour, just the right temperature for 13 seconds and then too cold to enjoy.
When they invented the vacuum cleaner, everybody who used one must have felt that there was something missing. Just picking up dust and fluff without having to use your hands wasn’t enough. Worse, was using one of those manual non-electric roller things that picked up 3% of the dust on the carpet. Either way, these contraptions lacked personality so someone came along and put a creepy face on the front. I’m not aware of any other household appliance that has a face – probably because they don’t need one! Sometimes you get a kettle that looks a bit like Hitler (Google it!) but the last thing you want is your fridge staring at you when you’re trying to make a sandwich.
Not only did the Henry Hoover frighten children more than Steven King's IT, it had a look on its face like it knew you'd vacuumed up something valuable but you had no idea. It was taunting you, like those faces painted on the side of the Waltzer at the fairground (maybe that’s just me?). On some models, Henry's nose was the corrugated pipe up which the dirt would travel - like a weird elephant with a special diet. Things only got weirder when they brought out a female version called 'Hetty' - putting a Henry and a Hetty in the same cupboard just felt wrong.
Rubber Shower
Mixer
Back in the misty past, one had a choice of tap in the bathroom. There was a hot one and a cold one. If you wanted to wash your hands you either had to put the plug in and fill the sink with a mixture of one part cold to three parts hot. Either that or remove the skin from your hand by running it under the hot tap before quickly flicking it over to the cold stream before emitting a bloodcurdling scream. No mixer waterfall taps here I’m afraid. There had to be a solution?
Cue a rubber hose pipe that split into two at one end and had a shower head on the other. You pushed one head onto the hot tap, one onto the cold tap and Bob’s your Mother’s Brother. Over time, the rubber would fatigue and go hard so the ends were harder to attach to the taps. This inevitably resulted in one of them popping off mid-hair-wash (when you’ve conveniently got your eyes closed to shield from the retina-removing shampoo which always managed to get between your eyelids no matter what) so you were either scalded or blasted with freezing cold water. As an aside, there was always an instruction on the side of the shampoo bottle for what to do if you got the shampoo in your eyes. However, I couldn't ever read it because I had shampoo in my eyes.
Vinyl as a sound storage medium had been around since the 1940s and hit its peak in the 1980s before being slowly replaced by CDs, then Limewire and then on-line streaming before coming back into popularity in the 2010s for some reason. We all loved that scratchy, crackly, bumpy, vari-speed, warped, humming lack of clarity you got from vinyl didn’t we, especially when fluff collected on the needle? It was much better than that crystal clear high definition menace, the CD. You can make playlists on Spotify these days. Choosing any song at all and adding it digitally to a virtual list you can access on your phone. In the 80s you had two choices. The first was to link your record player up to a cassette recorder and make a mix tape. This did involve locating the LP with the song you wanted, removing the large black disc, popping it on the turn table, dropping the needle at the exact point before the required track, holding down the play and record buttons and waiting through the entire song so you can press stop at the end. Then repeat twenty times until your cassette is full of songs.
The second way to make a play list was to gather together all your favourite singles, place them all on the top of a stick which protruded from the centre of the turntable and set the player away. When the first song had finished playing, the needle returned to its carriage, the next single dropped down the stick onto the first record and the needle moved back over and played the song. By the tenth record to drop down the stick, things started to get dicey – the records started to slip over each other, slowing down, speeding up and making the singer sound a bit weird. However, people who just listened to Bob Dylan records couldn’t tell the difference.
Digital Alarm Clock
Every household in the 80s had that small wooden box
that emitted an eerie green or red glow in the middle of the night. It told the time, it had a radio and it woke
you up when you told it to, providing you had a degree in the enigma machine
and you’d worked out how to set the time on it.
It had a large snooze button which was invented by a sadist. You’d wake
up with ample time to get to work but for some reason you’d decide to mash the
snooze button and leave your future in the hands of fate. If you reached for the snooze button a second
time, you would have already started getting your story together for when you
have to ring in sick at 9am because there’s absolutely no way you’re catching
your train now. The sleep button turned
the radio on for an hour and then turned it off automatically – in this time
you were supposed to be able to fall asleep with the radio on.
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