Earlier in the life of this blog, I spent some time typing up my 'old diaries' from the 80s. I did not do it specifically for the blog - sometime in the late 90s I thought it would be a splendid idea to digitise them. Not especially for archival purposes - paper has served archives well for hundreds of years - but because I imagined myself writing a best-selling novel based upon them.
That paragraph may actually sum up my entire life and personality. An obsession with archiving, an ability of genius proportions to imagine me successful, a disability of equally gargantuan proportions to put in the effort actually to achieve anything that approaches success, and a short attention span that means started projects rarely get finished.
But less of me, what about the 'old me'. Or the Young Me. The 1982 me. Fourteen years old, and just about to go into "Fourth Year", when various Boring Subjects are dropped in order to concentrate on O-Level Subjects. We had to do English Language (A), English Literature (A), Maths (A), French (A), Religious Studies (A) and PE (non-examined). In addition I did History (A), Music (A), Latin (B) and Home Economics: Cookery (B). Remember these were proper O-Levels. I additionally did Italian (C) in Sixth Form.
I spent a great deal of time writing diaries. At this stage they were written on paper salvaged from redundant exercise books from the previous school year. There are pages and pages of turgid detail; detail of celebrity birthdays, what was Number One in previous years, who I caught the bus with, what we did in lessons subject by subject, detailed chronology of football matches listened to on the radio. Very little of life and me. Very few anecdotes that capture the essence of being in 4P in 1982, no character sketches, few funny incidents, and a decided reluctance to do teenage angst. I have no doubt where the last omission comes from - an overwhelming awareness that what I wrote at 14 would come back to haunt when I became Prime Minister. I knew then that I had to deny my weaknesses for future electoral advantage. Not for nothing is my middle name 'Margaret'. Besides, in the spirit of Crossmann, Castle and Benn, my diaries were a narrative on the 'times' rather than the 'life'.
I am sure that my blog-readers don't need to know how many times I had toast and marmalade for breakfast.
But in following posts I will extract what seem to me to be the most interesting passages from 1982, 1987, 1992, 1997 (to the extent that it exists) and by the wonders of technology, I shall pull up the blog highlights from 2002.
Comments