I am not buying a diary this year. I have stacks of them, from pink ones with a little lock (the key long since lost) to ones filled with gardening tips or inspirational quotes.
Each of these diaries have full pages in January, a few missing entries in February, half missing by March and very few have even a sentence written by June.
They all start with a list of new year’s resolutions that taunt me when I open it. No, I didn’t go to the gym this week, or track my spending, or even have a relaxing massage every month. Resolutions are going the same way as the diaries.
I know many who tell me they find keeping a journal a great way of writing daily, so I looked into this. Some of the suggested things I should do every day were:
Keep a daily log – well that’s a no for a start. Journal three things you’re grateful for every day (I’m now stressing – does it have to be only three and three different every day, or can I copy and paste?) .Journal your problems – some days there wouldn’t be enough pages! Journal your stress (journaling is my stress!).Answer this every night before bed: “What’s the best thing that happened today?” (as above, can it only be one thing or can I cheat and repeat? Do I write it before or after I brush my teeth?) So this year, I bought a lovely notebook (I do love lovely notebooks), and I’m going to write in it when I feel like it. What will I write and, importantly, who am I writing for? Do I write honestly with the intention of reading it back to myself some day? How many times have I read the stack of diaries I already have? Or do I write it thinking that someone else might read it?
When I’m gone and my children find my diaries, am I happy they might read them? There have been some wonderful finds of diaries from the past that give great insight into the era in which they lived.
Source of historical facts
They are often an important source of historical facts and, importantly, a record of our social history. But will anyone really care that I spent a week’s wages on three tickets to Chris de Burgh, or the row between two flatmates over whose turn it was to clean the bathrooms?
Who will care about the in-depth detail of my driving test, or the regular bullying at work by Helen?
Do my children want to know about my teenage crushes – or worse – my online dating adventures in recent years? I very much doubt it.
Maybe the answer is to write with no thought of who might read it and write across the cover: “To be destroyed – NOT READ – when I’m gone’. I’m laughing thinking that’s a bit like the scene in Father Ted where Dougal has been told not to touch the red button.
Calendar
While I’m giving up the diary, I’m still going to hang a proper calendar on 1 January. Yes, I know it’s on our phones, but it’s nice to see the month ahead, with birthdays and anniversaries clearly marked.
I love a nice calendar as much as I love a nice notebook. I’ve had lots of lovely gardening ones and beautiful depictions of art works. But in recent years, my daughters, Niamh and Aishling, have put quite a bit of effort into getting me a calendar that makes me smile.
I’ve had Daniel O’Donnell with a different jumper every month. Cliff Richard was in various stages of undress and, last year, I had the 12 poses of Kim Jong Un. This year, I’ll put away the 12 months of Norris from Corrie and wonder who I’ll be looking at for 2023.
Happy New Year!
Read more
Margaret Leahy: as good for the head as it is for the backside
Time to give thanks for friendships
I am not buying a diary this year. I have stacks of them, from pink ones with a little lock (the key long since lost) to ones filled with gardening tips or inspirational quotes.
Each of these diaries have full pages in January, a few missing entries in February, half missing by March and very few have even a sentence written by June.
They all start with a list of new year’s resolutions that taunt me when I open it. No, I didn’t go to the gym this week, or track my spending, or even have a relaxing massage every month. Resolutions are going the same way as the diaries.
I know many who tell me they find keeping a journal a great way of writing daily, so I looked into this. Some of the suggested things I should do every day were:
Keep a daily log – well that’s a no for a start. Journal three things you’re grateful for every day (I’m now stressing – does it have to be only three and three different every day, or can I copy and paste?) .Journal your problems – some days there wouldn’t be enough pages! Journal your stress (journaling is my stress!).Answer this every night before bed: “What’s the best thing that happened today?” (as above, can it only be one thing or can I cheat and repeat? Do I write it before or after I brush my teeth?) So this year, I bought a lovely notebook (I do love lovely notebooks), and I’m going to write in it when I feel like it. What will I write and, importantly, who am I writing for? Do I write honestly with the intention of reading it back to myself some day? How many times have I read the stack of diaries I already have? Or do I write it thinking that someone else might read it?
When I’m gone and my children find my diaries, am I happy they might read them? There have been some wonderful finds of diaries from the past that give great insight into the era in which they lived.
Source of historical facts
They are often an important source of historical facts and, importantly, a record of our social history. But will anyone really care that I spent a week’s wages on three tickets to Chris de Burgh, or the row between two flatmates over whose turn it was to clean the bathrooms?
Who will care about the in-depth detail of my driving test, or the regular bullying at work by Helen?
Do my children want to know about my teenage crushes – or worse – my online dating adventures in recent years? I very much doubt it.
Maybe the answer is to write with no thought of who might read it and write across the cover: “To be destroyed – NOT READ – when I’m gone’. I’m laughing thinking that’s a bit like the scene in Father Ted where Dougal has been told not to touch the red button.
Calendar
While I’m giving up the diary, I’m still going to hang a proper calendar on 1 January. Yes, I know it’s on our phones, but it’s nice to see the month ahead, with birthdays and anniversaries clearly marked.
I love a nice calendar as much as I love a nice notebook. I’ve had lots of lovely gardening ones and beautiful depictions of art works. But in recent years, my daughters, Niamh and Aishling, have put quite a bit of effort into getting me a calendar that makes me smile.
I’ve had Daniel O’Donnell with a different jumper every month. Cliff Richard was in various stages of undress and, last year, I had the 12 poses of Kim Jong Un. This year, I’ll put away the 12 months of Norris from Corrie and wonder who I’ll be looking at for 2023.
Happy New Year!
Read more
Margaret Leahy: as good for the head as it is for the backside
Time to give thanks for friendships
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