…So we enter my last week at primary school.
I have just looked back using my diary to see
the sorts of thing I did in my class on a Monday.
There used to be a terrible maths test every Monday afternoon
which we called The Dreaded Yellow Sheet, remember?
Creative writing used to be every morning, after the Dinner Money Count.
It used to be the day of my first few piano lessons…

Oh dear. Here I am, having kept a diary for barely two years, already filling up space by looking back at stuff that had been and gone long ago, rather than bother to record any thoughts on stuff that was happening in the here and now (never mind yet to come).

I surmise a bit of displacement activity going on. After all, what other reason would someone have for churning out reams of prose about things they’d put in their diary years ago?