I’m doing a massive life laundry at the moment and one of the more interesting things that has surfaced is the diary of my 13-year-old self.
It is a Collins pocket diary with about two centimetres of space per day to record your innermost thoughts, but even with that minimal effort required, I still only managed to make entries up to the 8th of January, leaving Samuel Pepys’s (a contemporary) reputation untroubled.
The year began in promising style: “Wet. Did not awake until 3pm after Hogmanay. Went to Nana’s for a meal as usual. Had a rare old time that night with Dad. Aunt Mary stayed so it was even better. Didn’t get to bed until 1am.”
Changed days. I now make I sure I avoid a ‘rare old time’ at Hogmanay and aim to be in bed by half past midnight.
The weather remained ‘wet’ or ‘cold and cloudy’ or just ‘cloudy’ through to the 7th – this was the west of Scotland – at which point the diary records the following fever pitch of social frenzy: “Went back to school today. Alan came round to look at my microscope. Aunt Mary came too.”
Aunt Mary was a frequent visitor.
Bastard Settings 