Whilst rifling through boxes full of my old school books, Uni work, photos, videos and cassettes last week in my mum's loft, I came across a diary from 1986 - the year I started secondary school. It was a Garfield diary - no idea how I came to have this diary in the first place, as I don't remember ever liking Garfield. Anyway, I sat in the dusty loft and read for 10 minutes or so. I had meticulously spent each evening at the age of 11 writing my thoughts about the day, even down to the precise time I went to sleep (not quite sure how I managed to predict how long it would take me to fall asleep after closing the diary though?!).
Most of my diary ramblings were about how 'fit' I thought a particular girl was, or what my schoolmates were up to that day. But then some precious memories were documented about the day my younger sister and her friend dropped one of our ducklings and it died, and when our pet cat got run over on the road outside. Nice. And then I read about the day I sent a telex via my Dad's telex machine to Grundy Television in Australia for the attention of 'My Future Wife - Kylie Minogue'. I think I'd better leave it there before I embarrass myself any further.
Anyhow, during these few moments reminiscing in the loft, I began to realise that other than the memories recorded in this diary, I remember very little about my past - my memory is shocking. I would love to keep a diary again, if only to help my kids remember our shared experiences when they're in their 30's, too. I wonder if anyone else writes a diary, or if it was just one of those things you do at school?
