Awww, you guys.
The reaction to my last blog really touched me. It was so sweet and illustrated two things.
Firstly, it shows me that people do actually read this drivel. I was at lunch with a friend the other day who said that she had read my blog and that she had started writing a blog a while ago but had stopped writing it because it had ‘become too much of a chore’. That’s no good we both agreed – writing a blog should be fun. And so it is. For me anyway. It’s a delightful, cathartic release of all the nonsense that is swimming around inside my head. A capturing of my daily thoughts. Well, my weekly or ten-daily thoughts. This mustn’t become a chore remember? It’s an account of the comings and goings; the musings and ruminations; the opinions and the folly. Basically, I’m letting you read my diary.
I have kept a diary ever since I learned to write. I still have them all. From the illustrated and very detailed descriptions of visits to my grandparents and camping trips aged five, to the slightly more inane ramblings of an almost forty year old.
Then I stopped. The diaries just come to an end. Like I’d died. Or run out of ink.
Of course what actually happened is the world went digital. It was around the same time as my second niece was born. My lovely, delightful, wonderful second niece who sits on my lap leafing through reams and reams of photo albums crammed with postcard sized images of her older sister in her pram, with her favourite teddy, with ice cream running down her chin, playing in the snow, and asks, “why haven’t you got any pictures of me Lala?”
“Oh, well, I have….I’ve got loads. It’s just, they’re on the computer.”
“Can we look at them?”
“Er, well, we can…but I’ll have to set it all up and the pictures of you are mixed in with all sorts of other pictures of other things that I’m sure you don’t want to see.”
“But can we look at some pictures of me?”
“Of course we can…at some point. I need to organise them into albums.”
“Like these albums? All nice like this?”
“No, not really sweetheart. Because they’re not printed up like these ones. Not on paper, in an album. They’re on the computer.”
“Not the same?”
“No. Not the same. You’re absolutely right. Not the same at all.”
Likewise, no more diaries. No more leatherbound books, tattered at the corners, worn from being thrown into a suitcase or an overnight bag. No more sitting up late on a Sunday night by the bedside lamp with a cup of tea recounting the events of the ’best weekend EVER’. No more pages locked with a tiny padlock containing the warning…”Private…do not read.” Then, on the next page…”I said, Do not read.” And on the next…”Can’t you read? I said, DO NOT READ.” Then “Put this diary down right now, this is PRIVATE.” Only to be followed by a book containing only blank pages because I wasn’t really exotic enough to have many secrets at age twelve.
I stopped writing with a pen and paper and started to type my thoughts on a keyboard and save them in documents titled dubiously ‘THAT night’, or ‘It happened AGAIN’. And in going digital, like so many others, I also went public.
And so this is what we do now. We blog. We tweet. We recount all our adventures, our nights out, our family gatherings and celebrations on facebook, on instagram, online. Cropped and captioned. Shared and airbrushed.
And because I’ve always kept a diary, I’m in. Because I enjoy writing and recounting and storytelling, this is right up my street. And because I then put it out there, people read it. You guys. Look. You’re reading it now. So, hey…thanks. Thanks for reading. I’d sort of forgotten you were there. But you are. So that’s the first thing I’ve learnt.
That you’re there. Reading my blog. Whatever it is or it is supposed to be. I know I’ve specified that it’s not going to be a blog solely about diets and drinking – and look at me today – I haven’t mentioned either. Fab.
The second thing I’ve learned is….is….oh. The second thing is about diets and drinking. Maybe I’ll leave it there for today.
After all, I wouldn’t want it to become too much of a chore.