I’m writing to encourage Emma Beddington to keep a diary (I’ve never kept a diary. But if I had, I’d want it destroyed when I die, 27 April). I have been writing mine for 40 years and my late mother kept one for decades before that. I’m now reading mine from 30 and 40 years ago, and my mum’s from 1965, to my husband every evening. Of course there’s lots of trivial stuff – the weather, housework and such, but they’re also a fascinating historical record and we both find them very interesting. Hearing the first cuckoo of the year, for instance – remember cuckoos?
And 60 years ago my father was abroad with the RAF, leaving Mum with four children, the eldest just starting to train as a nurse while the youngest was a toddler. No family within a hundred miles, no car and no phone, all communication by letter (the postal service was wonderful in those days). Little money either: she writes how she tried on some really nice shoes but then saw the price tag – 79/11d – so hurriedly put them back. I think she’d be very pleased, and probably very surprised, that we’re listening to her and sympathising with her all these years on.
Joy Webb
Penistone, South Yorkshire
