DIARIES
February 7, 2021 Leave a comment
DIARIES
I have been sorting out my somewhat sparse diary for 2020. Things were so depressing, I did not want to think about them, let alone write about it. And nothing was happening, we went nowhere so there was little to record.. But what there is of it is now in order, plus the blogs I wrote, and a small amount of correspondence. I wrote five eulogies, which is 5 too many.
I have written diaries all my life, but periodically I would destroy them. The present collection goes back to 1982, so I’ve kept it for almost 40 years. The first few years are hand written in a hard-backed notebook; the later ones are printed out from my computer and placed in a hard backed file year by year. I used to use it as the basis for letters to my mother, and now I send edited copies to my children.
I don’t know the habits of other diarists, but I almost NEVER read them once they are written. Although I feel my judgement is sound and I rarely change my opinion, I find it depressing how unkind and intolerant I am of others; and how I seem to expect other people to think like me, which I now realise hardly anyone does.
John has no interest in my diaries and I would be surprised if he has ever read them. I think if asked he would in truth prefer that I did not write them, although I always give him a good press. This should not be thought of as him being unsupportive for he has always been generous and prompt in providing me with the tools, desk space and equipment I’ve needed to function.
I presume the collection has some value in being a 40 year record written by an articulate woman with the time to do so. I have left my papers to Elisabeth, on the assumption that John would not wish to deal with them (and Elisabeth may be daunted by the size of what there is), and that she would act on behalf of her siblings and in consultation with them.
There are important things in my life that are never mentioned in the diaries. Also world events appear to affect me very little. Whereas John kept a scrapbook on articles about the Falklands war, it never appears in my diary until I am criticizing Margaret Thatcher for her unchristian attitude in not being prepared to pray for the Argentinian dead.
If anyone should read them and come across dates, disregard these completely: they are wholly unreliable.
So now I have 40 volumes of diary to read and redact any comments which might distress my relatives and were written in the heat of the moment.
I can’t list this task as one of the joys of my life.