…Bought Whizzer and Chips and also bought my new diary.
It is the same sort of design as this one, except it covers 1987/88 instead of
1986/87 – obviously…
I was to stick with academic year diaries for another five years. It’d be even longer before I stopped thinking of life as a sequence of 12-month periods beginning in September and ending in August.
…This afternoon I rode my bike, read some of the paper, watched some athletics
and made a family tree of The Archers…
Can I plead the first three in mitigation of the fourth?
…What a day to have the Zeebrugge ferry disaster memorial service:
the day on which in 1912 the unsinkable Titanic sank.
Coincidence you might say, and I hope that you are right…
Who is this “you” that I am addressing rather pompously? Up to now I hadn’t really treated my diary as something – or someone – with which a conversation could be held. The whole “dear diary” approach only kicks in when you’re a teenager – doesn’t it? Anyway, I’m not really sure what I’m up to here, aside from some po-faced moralising, which in an 11-year-old is never a good thing.
Although you have to concede I did have a point.
…The Budget was mostly a big surprise.
People had predicted the 2p fall in income tax [down from 29p to 27p].
But very few people had suspected that nothing was to be done about
cigarettes, alcohol and petrol.
On the contrary, I think they SHOULD have put more tax on them,
because smoking and drinking are very bad habits.
Well, that’s enough about the Budget…
Perhaps I should say that nobody in our house smoked, and my mum and dad only drank on Sundays, when they had one glass of sherry at lunchtime, and that was it.
I didn’t think anything unusual of this until I was older and realised the people who I’d seen going into the pub at the bottom of our road weren’t just students but GROWN-UPS: ordinary men and women, sometimes alone, often in couples, occasionally even with families.
I never once visited a pub with my family as a child. I was never offered alcohol at home, and I never asked for it. When I did discover it, I discovered I didn’t really like it, though I went on drinking anyway. But thankfully that’s another story, and mercifully one that is safely many years into the future.
…I have just been looking back over this diary and
it’s amazing how my writing has got smaller.
In about 20 years time when I’m looking back I will have to buy a microscope…
Not a microscope; instead, just really tired, squinty eyes. Isn’t progress marvellous?