_. New Moon.
|
Pepys. |
Why do I keep a journal? They say it's done for reasons of vanity, and so I certainly must be vain. I remember feeling such a thrill last August [1980 that is] when I returned from Ibiza to be told that Uncle Bert had stumbled upon my journal whilst staying at Pine Tops, and found it enjoyable reading. Most people would feel affronted or embarrassed to have had their journal discovered and read, but because Uncle Bert had found it interesting I felt quite the opposite. This is vanity. And of course I love wallowing in the past and what better way can one do this than by keeping a journal? I have undertaken a mathematical exercise. Selecting a typical day in July I counted all the words of the page and multiplied them by 365 and then multiplied that number by 9. It transpires that since January 1, 1973, I have have written approximately 1,235,160 words. Looking at the introduction of the Pepys Diary I see that in nine and a half years old Sam wrote approximately 1,250,000 words. I have spent nine years writing about nothing and Samuel Pepys had such great tales to tell. What have I had to offer? I repeat the same old complaints year after year, and tell the same tale of drudgery with increasing regularity.
Today the office was slightly more tolerable. Sarah slightly better. Took a brisk walk at lunch time. Traversing Park Square.
Home in one piece, which was almost not the case when two Bradford lasses started brawling on the upper deck of the bus. Handbags were flying. Some of these Bradford girls are like rugby prop forwards.
We had a stew and dumplings and watched 'Brideshead Revisited'. Read Baldwin.
Spoke to Mum at 8:30. Still no word from Lynn. Dad is marvellous about Jack Andrews and says he will go alone one afternoon.
The Prince and Princess of Wales are in Wales on a three day tour of the principality. The princess seemed overwhelmed. They had a tumultuous welcome, which included a visit to Carnarvon Castle and a meeting with Lord Snowdon.
Bed by 11.
-=-
No comments:
Post a Comment