I'm usually useless at writing a diary........

I have never kept a diary. I am not good at committing to writing every day.

 I still remember the overwhelming feeling of dread when, aged about 11 years, I received a 5 year diary for Christmas. It was faux leather bound, red I think, and had a flimsy key to lock it up. To be honest, I felt like I was being locked up and the key chucked away. I felt doomed to five years of painful writing or disappointing the gift bearer. I can not even remember who gave me the diary. I dutifully managed a few painful entries and then the wretched thing languished in my dressing table drawer along with other unused items..... cheap scent so strong it was scary, packs of American Tan tights, boxed linen handkerchieves and my tiny silver but tarnished Christening bracelet.


Now some 45 years later we are beginning to come out of Covid 19 lockdown. During this time I have enjoyed reading other people's diaries of the simple daily round whether that be via contemporary blogs, the Mass Observation diaries of  Nella Last or the fictional daily doings of Miss Read's characters. I have enjoyed escaping into their worlds finding courage and calm in the everyday.

And so now, quite surprisingly, I find myself wanting to record my own simple days. I don't know why or even whether I shall be able to maintain this. But here I go, the adventure begins.