Diary

When my Gran passed away last year, there was a small nice surprise for us in that we found her  diary from 1945.  My Gran had a really interesting life; I've written about it before.  She told us lots of things.  She always got the most excited when talking about her wartime experiences.  This was not because she condoned war, but because it changed her life - it got her away from home, away from working in the mills, and exposed her to a whole new range of people.

We thought we knew everything about her but the diary was something none of us had seen and has a range of snippets that we had never heard about, including two marriage proposals!  The down side is that it's one of those tiny diaries with half a page per day and there were many occasions when reading it where I was desperate for more, and wished I could call her up and ask her. On the other hand I bet she is laughing away up there at keeping us guessing.

Like most teenagers, I kept diaries in the past and threw them away after a few years when I found them embarassing.  Now that I'm settled down as a mother, I've often thought that nobody would be interested, it's certainly not 1945.  However, there may come a day when Isabella wants to know how things were when she was small and mummy and daddy were growing the family and setting up house.  And so, for a little over a week now, I've been keeping a diary.

I try to write as much detail as possible - who knows whether I'll be around to explain my musings, or be able to remember the context if I am around.  I find it therapeutic to write a page or so at the end of the day.  I wish I had started earlier - especially since Isabella changes so quickly and I want to record that too, but better late than never.

I bought a beautiful notebook to inspire me to write and I love it so far.