I have kept a handwritten diary for seven years now. I have written in it everyday. Everyday no matter how mundane or pointless the things that I have to write about have been, I have forced myself to scribble some sort of entry. Enoch Powell said that keeping a diary is like a dog returning to its vomit. I agree with him, (there is always a first time) but I have been driven by a fear that if I stopped writing it, then my world would come tumbling down. I felt that somehow by keeping this journal every day, by forcing myself to write something, I was exercising some sort of control over my life. I suppose it is the adult equivalent of not walking on the cracks in the pavement to stop the bad things happening.
Well I’ve stopped writing it everyday. It’s been a week. We shall see.