I have just decided to throw away all my old diaries. Not journals. Diaries. They say things such as:
March 12th 1978 Gerry Rafferty, the Hippodrome
March 16th 20s and 30s breakfast at David's
And so on. Why I have all my appointments' diaries in a pile and considered them important enough to move from Walmley to Chilwell to Mapperley to Chester-le-Street to Leamington Spa confounds me utterly.
But they are in a pile waiting to go to the tip now. And you know, it is the sort of thing that makes blogs really boring to the wandering journalist with a grudge against non-professionals. But it seemed important enough to say. And I'm glad I've done it. There. Gone.