Saturday 6 February 1988

…Ronald Reagan was 76 or 77 years old today.
And I was 12.
I got some clothes, £10, a notepad, a mini stationery set, two films for my camera,
a board game, a writing set and something else that I’ve forgotten.
I have a grand total of six cards.
I’m not having any sort of party, as I don’t want one,
and nobody would have come anyway.
But I’m writing this early in the evening, because there is a 007 film on in a bit.
It is one I haven’t seen: The Man With the Golden Gun.
I wonder if it will be any good…

____________________________________________________________________________

Today, exactly two years on from when I started this blog, seems a good time to bring things to a close.

Anyone looking in even semi-regularly will have felt the last few months’ extracts turn increasingly, not to say noxiously, adolescent. Despite my best efforts to undercut everything with latterday flippancy, there’s no disguising the hastening of great gales of self-obsession, sulks and, worse of all, self-pity.

I’ve also been omitting more and more bits of the original text, and sometimes not reproducing anything from the diary for days on end, which completely undermines the whole point of this blog.

So it’s time to throw a damp towel over proceedings before the smouldering gets too much to bear.

Thanks to everyone who has left comments and been in touch. It’s been nice to know some of what I’ve published has struck a chord or prompted other memories that people have been willing to share.

The newly-12-year-old me would continue his diary, starting with impressions of yet another keenly-anticipated James Bond film.

But that, and everything else to follow, is best left unsaid, on his behalf let alone that of everyone else.

Instead, let’s leave him here, in blissful ignorance at how the next few hours, along with the next few years, will turn out.

Happy birthday to me

12 years young

9 thoughts on “Saturday 6 February 1988

  1. Well, sniff, I’ll miss you! Thanks for sharing what you did though, I was never organised enough for a diary.

    P.S. Don’t know if something has happened there, but our IT dept now classify your Underground site as “Malicious”…

  2. I’ve said it before, many times, but I wish you’d reconsider stopping posting. The progression from child to adult is arguably more interesting, and even if you do come across as a bit of a little shit – who wasn’t as a teenager? And we all know you grew up to be a perfectly lovely person. Even if the posts are more infrequent to edit out the revelations about your first single being Bros or your first crush, it’s still interesting to hear the real-time life of a teenager. That we’re such similar ages (and have lead such bizarrely similar lives) only adds to the appeal.

    Also, how can you NOT tell us what your very first viewing of The Man With The Golden Gun was like?

  3. Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    Don’t go, it’s my favourite, and such an inspiration to me. Can we have one-off specials now and then? Don’t deprive us.

  4. Very sorry to see this finish as I have enjoyed reading the entries. Will I ever find out if your family ever caught up with the 80s – please say yes but if not thanks for an enjoyable read and original idea… am gonna miss it 😦

  5. Thanks for all the kind comments, folks. Glad that you’ve enjoyed what I’ve done these past couple of years. I’m afraid I haven’t changed my mind about calling things to a halt, but please note I never said I am bringing the blog to a close FOR GOOD. Once the Bedroom Years are out the way, I might feel brave enough to crank the handle once more. Although I fear that’s precisely what the next few volumes of my diary contains. By which I mean trying to feel brave, not cranking… Oh, never mind.

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