My diary decade

Before I started this blog, I wrote a diary.  I started it at the beginning of 2003, when I was not quite 41.  At first I was fanciful enough to address my writing to a non-existent 13-year-old girl called Dinah.  After I saw GANGS OF NEW YORK, I wrote: "Dinah, I know you want to see anything with Leo di Caprio in it, but I can understand your mother not wanting you to see it." But such fancy can only go so far, and I soon reverted to a more conventional approach.

Every day I'd write down what I'd had for dinner, simply because it was a guarantee that I'd have SOMETHING to write about every day. (Now I understand why Samuel Pepys talked about food so much in his diary.) And I'd often write about my dreams.  My writing will show that I often dream about my old home in Sackville, New Brunswick.

In the early years I wrote quite a bit, as much as six pages a week.  But in more recent years I slowed down and wrote just a couple of pages weekly.  I originally started this blog back in 2007 and wrote it off and one for about a year, then let it lapse because I couldn't think of things to write about.  It was when I was visiting London last September that I decided to resume the blog, since I felt I had a lot to write about now.  But lately I've been worrying about repeating myself:  I've written so much that it's hard to remember whether or not I've already written on a specific subject.