The four of us would band together to form a human chain, all in pursuit of achieving the elusive perfect antenna position. My oldest brother, the fearless leader of our motley crew, would boldly take his position on the terrace, teetering precariously on the edge of the wall as he meticulously adjusted the antenna. Meanwhile, my older brother (you know, the middle one) would strategically station himself somewhere outside the house, embracing his role as a mediator, almost resembling a radio operator in an airport transmission office.

As for my younger brother and me, we'd be stationed right in front of the TV, shouting and practically begging, "Not yet, stop right there... and... noooooooooh... It's gone again; turn the antenna back to the previous position!"

The truth is, back in the '90s, we never experienced the sheer joy of watching television in full clarity. Now, as I reflect on those days, I can't help but recall that brief moment of hope when the antenna was at a certain angle – you know, the one that offered high-quality, no-grain reception. Yet, it always felt like this mystical angle had a mind of its own, changing on us just when we thought we had it figured out. It's almost as if there was a conspiracy orchestrated by those sneaky cable TV technicians. How did I arrive at this theory, you ask? Well, let me tell you, we spent hours on end attempting to lock in that perfect angle, all for the chance to watch the one movie that graced our screen once a week – the sole cinematic indulgence we were allowed. Anyway, my head was deemed too small to unravel their antenna secrets, so I lived with it.