Saturday, 24 March 2018

Dear Herod... the diary of a Banbury Man

I have kept a diary for 34 years.  It started with a New Year's Resolution and a Christmas present from my grandmother, I think because she had seen me reading my brother's copy of A Secret Diary of Adrian Mole.  As a sorely misunderstood teenager, surrounded by Philistines who comprehended little of the difficulties of my existence, such a diary appealed.  I wrote it keenly,  writing a whole A4 page every day for a few years.  While at university, I began to type my diary on Herod, my manual typewriter, seeing it as a way of practising my typing.  I began writing Dear Herod at the top, affecting the Dear Kitty of Anne Frank.  Sometime later, the diary began to be computer based, and now it is in the cloud.

I have confided my deepest secrets and fears to the diary.  I have told it of my anger and my anguish.  I have committed to it the vicissitudes of my spiritual struggles, my emotional life, my work worries.  It has formed a travel diary, a commentary on the life and character of those around me, a journal of my nation, and my thoughts on the latest news.  While I do not write every single day, believing it should be a diary that serves me, rather than masters me, I write on average five times a week, and never less than three times a week.

Over the next month, I intend to publish extracts from my live diary - edited by me, and with attempts to preserve the anonymity of those mentioned.  I doubt this will interest anyone, as my life is quite humdrum, but I like the idea of doing this, and entertain the grand notion that someone might be inspired to keep their own diary.  I am very glad I have kept mine - it has calmed and soothed me, helped me to process complex matters, and been a useful reminder.

Extracts will appear a day or two after written.  Prepare to be stultified.

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